"Pleasantly Numb"

Author: Amy
Contact: Slvrbttn@aol.com
Notes: This is a bit complicated... But hopefully, easy to figure out. The story goes like this. Angel's pov, Buffy's, someone else, ect... For the first three parts. And then it's Angel's and Buffy's, and third person. ~ ~ ~ denotes a change in point of view, and * denotes a simple change in scene. It takes place in I Will Remember You, and then breaks off from there. Hope you like! :)

They watched her when she first arrived, when the two warriors shared their love by sharing a silent pain that could never be fully expressed. They watched the fight, watched her land on top of him and watched them lock eyes with a hidden passion that they could never speak of again.

It was clear and easy to come to the decision. Those without the wisdom of . They could never comprehend how easy it was, that decision. But, looking at the two of them look at each other, they decided.

And it was as simple as that.

It was the one thing missing from my day, the day I had with the Ring of Amara in my possession. I had always thought of that, hoped for it, but even when I finally had it, it didn't seem real to me. Like a dream, floating on the edge of my vision, or a word that one knows well but can't remember in the moment the word is needed most.

So I went into the sun, this time not marveling at the light on my face, but rather the light on hers. I saw her walk with her arms around herself in a lonely fashion, and I wanted to be the one holding her. I stepped out of the shadows and saw her turn as though she sensed me there; which she probably did. Her face held uncertainty, but also an unbelievable... wonder. Her eyes followed me as I approached, and then slid closed as I pulled her into my arms with a strength I would reserve only for her.

Our mouths met, and it was hungry and eager as it always had been, but the silent worry that we never talked about had disappeared in me. She seemed to understand that without saying words, and so she relaxed under my touch, my mouth, trusting me with everything she was. I continued to kiss her, relishing in the feel of her body molding to mine, the scent of her, the taste.

Like excited, hormonal teenagers, who are just discovering what love can do for them, we continued to touch and kiss in the middle of that courtyard by the sea. Her hands snaked up my chest and then up to my neck, locking there firmly as she nibbled on my lips. I groaned, pulling her even closer, and tasted her lips and tongue with a feeling of... revelation, like I had never kissed her before.

Finally she broke away with a soft cry, and pulled back. I sucked in some breath and placed my finger on her lips, wanting nothing more than to get her back to my apartment, to take her into my bed, to be as close to her as I possibly could be.

She nodded, kissing my fingertip softly, and didn't ask anything, though her eyes were full of questions. I would explain it all later.

For now, though, we needed to go someplace private.

Human. I looked at Angel with whole new eyes when he told me that. It was like every dream and wish I had ever kept a secret from him was coming true. Of course I wished he was human. And of course I never told him.

How much would it have hurt him if I had?

Instead, I had to be content with what I had in him; And I was. More than I can ever describe, I was content. I love him, and always will.

Which was why it was hard for me to listen to him offering me platitudes about waiting and being mature. In my fantasies, it was never like that. No, it started out with the kiss, which happened-- and beautifully, I might add-- and worked its way into bed, just me and him, laughing and talking and being together. Comfort. Certainty.

Finally he stopped talking about being mature and said, "I'm really sorry I kissed you like that."

That shocked me. I wanted to yell at him. "You are?"

"Oh, not for the kiss itself," he assured me quickly, and I could tell he was being honest.

I smiled, relieved. "Good. I- I mean because, as far as kisses go, I thought it was well above average."

He nodded. "It was incredible," he said, almost in awe. "I just... I think maybe we'd be asking for trouble rushing back into things. ...But, not that I don't want to... Rush. I do! Believe me."

I believed him. But it wasn't easy.

So we talked a little while longer, deciding to go ahead with the mature-plan and stay away from each other for a while, keeping in contact through the phone and mail and that sort of thing. And then I laid my hand over his, as a goodbye, and found myself in his arms again.

He crushed me to him, and I was filled with not-bad lusty thoughts. As he lifted me, against the refrigerator, I wound my legs around him tightly and heard him grunt in satisfaction as he hardened. Walking me back over to the table, he reached out one arm and swept the dishes onto the ground with a satisfying crash. Then he laid me on the table and climbed after me.

I worked at getting off his shirt without having to stop kissing him, and when that didn't work, we kissed through the material until he was bare-chested and I could lay my hand against his heart and feel it beating. He grinned hotly at me, lifting me up long enough to remove my shirt and bra, and then he littered kisses all over my body.

He lifted my hips up to help him take off my pants, and I helped him, unbuttoning his as he unbuttoned mine, frantically, almost desperately. We wanted to be close, so close, and these clothes were getting in the way. Finally, after struggling with his uncooperative zipper for a moment, I tore his pants down the hemline, and muttered a breathless, "Sorry," as they slid to the floor.

He smiled again, his eyes dark, managing to say, "If you hadn't done it, I would have," before his mouth was on mine again, licking and sucking and doing everything that a person with an oral fixation knows how to do.

The sight of him, swelled and ready, nearly made me blush, except that I was just as ready, and he could tell as he placed his fingers against me, making me tremble with excitement. My voice came out as a growl.

"Now, Angel."

He nodded, not wanting to wait either, and entered me with a force that made my mouth open in a silent scream. He stilled, worried, and I shook my head to him, letting him know that I was all right; better than all right. He smiled, and we began the rhythm that had made our first time the things that dreams are made of.

That smile. If I forget everything else about this moment, I'll always remember that.

And then I was inside of her, rocking back and forth, and it was ferocious and somehow gentle at the same time. She touched my hair, my lips, with her hand as beads of perspiration started on her brow, and I licked at her finger.

She squeezed me at the same time with her legs and her well-trained vaginal muscles, and I had to slow down again, grunting, "I'm not a vampire anymore, Buffy."

She looked a little hurt. "Did I hurt you?"

I watched her move beneath me, and was disappointed when she loosened her legs around my waist. "No," I assured her quickly, wanting to feel every part of her against me like I had a moment ago, "I just don't think I have as much... control... As I used to."

Her eyes became wide and delighted, that beautiful blue, and she placed her legs back around me, setting the soles of her feet on my back as I moved my hips back and forth. I reached down to play with the sensitive part of her, and watched in pleasure as she bucked under my hand, crying out. She reached up and bit my shoulder, and I could have laughed except that...

Well, it hurt.

But it was a good kind of pain.

I leaned down and kissed her breasts, her nipples, and felt them pucker underneath the attentions of my tongue. Buffy was wriggling back and forth, lifting up to smash our pelvises together in a way that I knew would bring both of us pleasure, and finally she arched her back, yelling. Her hands lifted my face from her breast and pulled me up to her, kissing me with such intensity that I couldn't keep control anymore than she could.

As she spasmed around me, I thrust into her, harder and faster, watching her eyes close and her brow furrow in pleasure and concentration.

I felt the creak, I didn't hear it.

As I was about to finish inside of her, the table toppled over, two of the legs breaking. We went down in an illicitly tangled heap, and I felt her gasp as falling off the table made me propel into her harder than I had meant to. A dreamy smile wandered over her face as I finished with that push, spilling inside of her.

We were still on the floor, wrapped in each other's arms. Sweaty and trembling, we were relaxed now but still unsatisfied. But Buffy kept looking at me as if in awe.

I laughed. "No, I can't do that again."

She gave a charming giggle that sounded like a sigh and waited as I gently pulled out of her and helped her stand up. Her panties were tangled around her right foot, and the rest of our clothes laid strewn about the kitchen. She looked around.

"Was the table expensive?" she finally asked, her eyes sparkling.

I grinned; it felt so good to smile. "I can replace it."

"We'll just break the next one, you know," she smiled.

I nodded; she was right.

Holding her little hand in my grip, we started for the bedroom. She yawned, stretching languidly as we fell onto the soft blankets, and I brushed her hair aside as her eyes found mine. "That was a new experience."

"Not so new," I joked gently.

"Well, the table thing," she compromised, and grinned when I nodded emphatically.

We laid in silence for a while, content to touch each other, to be so close as we were. Her hands wandered up and down my spine in a drifting fashion, feather light, and I stroked her hair, adoring the softness, the gold in it. Her body was pressed against mine, our arms around each other, and I felt that this was the best that things could get; I loved that moment, when we were chest to chest, hip to hip, and toe to toe. Every intimacy we had ever hoped for was now realized.

She giggled again as she heard my stomach growl. "Hungry?"

"We just burned a lot of calories," I defended playfully, nipping at her mouth.

She smiled. "Do you have anything besides blood in the fridge?"

"Lots of things. Cordelia got them. I haven't had a chance to really look through them yet," I told her, wondering myself what Cordelia had bought for me.

"Go check," she said, her eyes alight.

I nodded and got up, not wanting to leave her for any length of time but knowing that I couldn't attach myself to her every waking hour. She smiled as I walked farther away from her, her hand slipping in my grasp.

I watched her as I left the room, watched her eyes slide over me, and I felt the stirring of desire again, the desire that would never be sated, as she sat up, completely oblivious to her glorious nudity and stretched again, like a cat.

I left to get food, knowing that if I didn't leave at that moment, she would never be able to kick me out of that bed.

She heard me open the refrigerator and called out, "Well?"

"We have..." I trailed off, trying to process all of the food now stored in my fridge. "A lot of things. Strawberries... I didn't think those were in season. And little chocolate bars. And ice cream. There's some sort of ice cream topping in here, too."

"Bring it all," she told me, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "Do you have any cookies, by any chance?"

I looked. "Yep. Oreos?"

"Bring 'em. And peanut butter! Preferably crunchy!"

I stuffed an Oreo in my mouth and nodded, though she couldn't see me. Chewing rapidly, I yelled a muffled, "Got it!" and finished loading the food in my arms.

Then I shut the refrigerator firmly. There was no way I was leaving the room again for at least a week.

I saw him walk into the room quickly, his arms loaded with food, and dump it all on in front of me as he hopped into bed. I saw he was disappointed, at least a little, with my having covered up in an old shirt of his, but I didn't want to explain right then that I had done it to be able to smell the scent of him while he was gone. And anyway, it wasn't buttoned. His eyes roamed tantalizingly down the front, and I smiled.

I looked in the food. Had Cordelia forgotten *anything??* I grinned. "Mmm. A perfect yum."

Angel spooned up some ice cream and held it in front of me like an offering, and I laughed, opening my mouth. He lifted the spoon just a little closer to me, making me scoot closer to him to catch the ice cream before it dripped off. I savored the taste for a moment, closing my eyes. "Mmm." I opened my eyes, met his gaze with a smile. "This is a dream. You're human for, like, a minute, and already there's cookie dough fudge mint chip in the fridge."

He smiled like a little boy. "God, I love food."

"Food is good," I agreed, smiling back, and dipped one of the little chocolate bars in some peanut butter, holding it up to him. He bit into it eagerly, and then smiled, leaning closer for a kiss, which I was all too happy to oblige him with.

When I pulled away, he looked at me curiously. "Why didn't you ever tell me about chocolate and peanut butter?"

I shifted until I was against the pillows, lying next to him again. I slid my knee between his thighs and he looked at me, with a dangerous smile. "Well, I figured that if your vamp taste buds couldn't really savor it," I explained, "Then it would only hurt you to know." I paused, running my fingers through his hair. "By the way? I'm over that whole needing-to-be-mature thing. That time you just spent in the kitchen? That was enough time apart."

He smiled softly. "Too much."

I kissed him, pawing at his face like a little girl, and just as he deepened the kiss, he pulled away with a laugh. "Oh! Okay. Mortal coordination leaving something to be desired."

I looked, saw that he had dripped cookie dough fudge mint chip ice cream on his chest. I shook my head. "Wrong. That's just right."

I leaned down, licking it off his chest, and savoring the taste of him as well. I heard his laugh and then he pinned his arms around me in an almost-tickle, and I laughed too, bringing my head up to kiss him. "If you think I loved food before," he informed me with solemnly, "Just wait and see what happens."

That remark intrigued me, and I let myself lay beneath him as he pushed aside his shirt and showered my breasts with fluttering sorts of kisses, licking and nibbling at whatever part of skin he paused on.

I touched the back of his hair, and he raised his eyes without raising his head. Our eyes met over my skin, and I saw his smile.

And then, I was too swept away for words.

They watched in respectful silence as the lovers played with each other, laughed together. Something like awe, if awe were possible for the Higher Beings, overtook them as they saw the ex-demon smile openly at his beloved and clutch her warmly, without any fear, in his arms.

The two humans teased and giggled and constantly touched each other, without regard for the past, for the past didn't matter anymore. It was simply something that had happened, and that was over, and that was inconsequential now that they had each other.

The Higher Beings smiled in disbelief and pleasure at what came next.

I lowered myself down the silken, golden skin of her body, until I reached the juncture of her thighs. Quickly lifting out a strawberry from its container, I dipped it in the melting ice cream, and kissed the bristly patch of hair between her legs before I proceeded. She was already shaking with anticipation, her eyes following my movements hotly.

I opened the folds of her and smiled, leaning forward to lash at her gently with my tongue. Buffy started underneath the feel of it, and I felt her skin warming up rapidly. I lifted the dripping strawberry up to her, and traced it down the delicate pink skin hidden there. After a moment, with only a moment of hesitation, I gently pushed the ripe fruit inside of her, holding onto the stem. She started again, as though surprised, and looked at me through lowered lashes as I brought the red, chocolate-y concoction back up to my mouth, placing it inside and chewing carefully.

The eroticism of the moment made both of us tremble as we gazed at each other. Finally, I swallowed, and then watched as she closed her eyes, resting her head back against the pillow, trusting whatever I was about to do. I leaned in closer, flicking her with a feather-light touch and tasting a brilliant mixture of the sweetness of the strawberry, the chocolate of the ice cream, and something so perfectly Buffy that I leaned even closer to take in more of it. My tongue lashed out again, loving the taste of her more than the taste of any of the food I'd sampled since I'd regained my humanity.

She began to moan and writhe under my loving lash. Again and again I toyed with the small button that contained her most sensitive nerves, suckling on it gently and then nipping it until her fingers were buried in my hair. One moment, she would pull away, claiming that the feeling was too great, and the next moment she would thrust herself back against me, begging for more.

I loved it.

I bit at her softly, with dull teeth, and sped up the rhythm of my tongue. She sighed and shook, her hands grasping weakly at my head, until the tremors took over her body and her back was arched. She came quickly and violently, arching off the mattress, and I eagerly lapped up her juices.

Finally she laid back again, limp, against the bed. Her hair was matted against her skull, and her eyes bright but tired as she watched me lift my head up and make a show of licking my lips.

A giggle found its way out of her mouth.

I scooted up to her and trailed my hands up her slick stomach, and between her breasts. With a predatory grin, she rolled over on top of me, straddling me expertly. She gave one quick thrust down, and then I was inside of her.

It was fast and animal, almost as vampiric as vampiric sex can be. She thrust down against me with little grunts, squeezing her vaginal muscles, and I groaned, reaching up to cup her breasts in my palms. The smell radiating off of us was amazing; it was me and her, wrapped around each other.

She bounced up and down, rubbing her pelvis against mine with an even, quick rhythm. My hands drifted down her body, never leaving contact with it, and settled on her hips, urging her on. She nodded, her eyes on me for a moment before she closed them tightly, concentrating on the feel of me inside of her and against her.

Buffy then groped at my hands, taking them harshly away from her hips, and threaded her fingers through mine. She clasped my hands tightly, rocking back and forth, and then let out a long cry, biting her lip. I arched up into her, finishing as she did, and then she collapsed on top of me, out of breath.

Her hair was covering my face, and it was also wrapped around my arm. I delighted in both feelings.

Slowly, she disengaged herself from me, and it was with no small sense of loss that I was released from the confines of her as she crawled to my side to cuddle there warmly. I smiled, turning, and kissed her gently on the mouth.

I don't know how long we slept; I wasn't aware that I was falling asleep at all, but when I looked at the clock, I saw that it was at least over an hour past the time I had last looked, when she had been nestled in my arms, awake. Buffy then woke, barely seconds after I did, and looked at me with those large and clear, lovely blue eyes, her lips beautifully swollen, her face flushed with sleep.

Her arm slid around my waist, then underneath the blanket with a gentle mischievousness. She didn't have to grope in darkness for long, because even the thought of her trying to touch me gave me an erection so quickly that I'm surprised I didn't kneel over with the pain of it. Her eyes widened and her hands slid up and down me, grasping me more firmly in her palm as she took the chance to throw off the blanket with her free hand.

I stayed silent with her inspection, and watched as something like fascination passed over her face. I realized then that we had never really gotten this before; to explore each other, to watch each other's reactions so closely. The first time, it was beautiful and everything I could have dreamed, but it also seemed like a dream, with a hazy edge around it. This was wide-awake, very real life, and so I looked at her with warmth as she watched the effect her hands had on me.

Her nail slid down the underside of my shaft, gently, scraping but without any pain, and she watched with surprised amusement as I twitched in her hand. As eager as I was growing to be inside of her again, as deliciously ticklish I was feeling, I wouldn't deny her this, for the look of wonderment and pleasure on her face was all I would have ever asked for it I had one wish in the world.

Finally, wordlessly, she let go of me, and rolled onto her back, pulling me to her with unbelievable strength. Maybe it was my imagination, or just that I was filled with so much love for her in that moment, but our kisses seemed more ardent, more passionate, and more sacred than they ever had before. She reverently touched my face, my cheeks, and my mouth, and I kissed her with equal reverence, as she was someone Holy in my sight.

She spread her legs for me, and I noticed with a strange detachment to all that surrounded us, that we were awash in silence. Only Buffy's whispering sigh as I entered her could have assured me that this perfect, perfect moment was in fact real, and not one of those dreams that I've had where I can see and touch her, but not hear her voice.

We began making love a third time, and I slowly rocked in and out of her, trying to not break the contact of our mouths the entire time. When it didn't work, at least not entirely before I would go back to kissing her, I would open my eyes and look at her as she moved beneath me.

She was all beauty; everything that I had ever seen or imagined as beautiful in the world was made real to me through her eyes. Her blue eyes met mine and I felt the shock of our souls connecting, even more than they ever had been before, making the already unbreakable bond between us complete.

I saw the tears leak out of her eyes and I stopped moving, still inside of her. "Did I hurt you?" I whispered, the noise almost surprising after such a hush had been between us.

The crystalline tears wetted the sides of her face, dripping down to her ears, and finally she shook her head, placing her hand against the small of my back, telling me to go on.

I watched her for another moment carefully, and then, convinced that it was true and she wasn't in any physical pain, resumed my slow strokes in and out of her.

Her mouth opened silently, and I smiled tenderly as the flush came to her face again.

There was no way that I could have told him what I was feeling right then without ruining the mood (if it was possible to ruin *any* mood between us), that had settled over our lovemaking. This time, it was almost somber, and I knew that any talking would take that feeling, that cool quiet, away. So instead, I placed my hand on the small of his back and wrapped my legs around him tighter, urging him to go on, to continue. He rocked in and out of me with a soft smile, and I felt that it would be a curse against us to break the quiet with sounds that weren't needed. I felt like we were in a blue room, a room where everything is calm and serene and beautiful.

Which it was. Except without the blue.

I placed the heels of my feet flat against his back and felt him move back and forth, inside of me. It was... The only word I can think of to describe it was lovely. I closed my eyes, feeling the tears run down the sides of my face, but I knew that the bond that we had created while looking at each other earlier hadn't been erased when I broke contact with his gaze.

My hands slid up his arms and gripped him on the shoulders as I felt his pace increase. In and out, slow and steady, like cool blue waves on a cool blue night. He leaned down and kissed me on the mouth, and then on the scar he had given me, and I opened my eyes in time to see him start with recognition and realization of what was on my neck. He paused for a moment, and then, at my smile, increased his movements even more, thrusting his hips quickly. My stomach felt hot and my mind cool, and all of me felt liquified.

I started shaking like a leaf, pushing my hips up in rhythm with his thrusts, shutting my eyes again, tightly. ~This is love~ I thought absently as I felt him fill me up. I tossed my head to the side, the pleasure being too much for me to take, and saw Angel grip the sheets tightly. Looking back at him, I locked eyes, lost myself in his eyes, and let myself go.

Angel, feeling me orgasm around him, bore down, and impaled me with one last, hard push, and I felt him spill inside me.

It was all in silence.

Finally, after a moment of laying locked together like that, he pulled out of me and laid on his side. He brushed my hair aside, to look closer at my scar, and then leaned forward, kissing the tears that were still matted on my eyelashes.

He asked, "Why?" softly, and I knew immediately what he was referring to.

I smiled, touching his lips.

"It was beautiful, wasn't it?" I whispered, taking my hand away and leaning up to kiss him.

He nodded. "Was that the only reason?"

After hesitating for a second, I shook my head. "I just... I know that neither of us have really said it, yet. And while we were making love just now, I knew that it would be impossible for me not to. And that's why I was crying. I've never... It was beautiful..." I swallowed, gathering my courage, falling into his eyes. "I love you, Angel."

He leaned his head closer to me, touching his lips tenderly to my scar, and then bringing his head up to kiss my mouth. He tasted like my tears, or possibly his, because somewhere in the middle of what I was saying, he began crying too. The kiss was long and drawn out, sweet, a promise of so many things.

"I love you too," he said huskily, his hand under my chin. "I love you so much that I can barely breathe... And now it's something that's necessary for me to do."

I laughed. "Do you like it?"

"What, breathing?"

"Needing to breathe," I corrected. "Being alive. I mean, I know it must be a lot different, but..."

"I like it," he interrupted, quietly. "It *is* different. But it's worth a lot to me that I *can* do it, so the difference matters less to me than it probably should."

"I like it too," I said, as he adjusted his position until he was laying on his back. I set my head against his chest. "That's a good sound. Thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump..."

He chuckled softly. "It feels pretty amazing."

"I'm *so* glad we didn't logic ourselves out of this," I admitted. I looked up at him. "We'll make it work, right?"

He squeezed my arm. "We will."

I yawned. "I'm so sleepy. But I still want..."

"What?" Angel asked, jokingly deadpanned. "You couldn't possibly. Not that I wouldn't..." he began to offer with a grin.

"Noo," I assured him, laughing. "I'm spent. Pleasantly numb, even. You?"

He paused, thoughtfully. "For now."

"No, I want to stay awake," I clarified softly. "So this day can keep happening."

"Sleep," he whispered roughly, kissing the top of my head. I shivered at how warm his lips were. "We'll make another one like it tomorrow."

"Angel? This is the first time I've ever felt this way."

"What way?" he asked curiously, stroking my arm.

"Like I've always wanted," I explained. "Like a normal girl... Falling asleep in the arms of her normal boyfriend. It's perfect."

I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of him and me entangled like that, and smiled as he kissed my forehead again, tenderly... There was so much tenderness between us.

And now, there always would be.

My heart exploded in my chest as she said that, as she claimed that I made her feel like she's never felt before. Everything was finally in place, everything had finally come full circle. She took my heart at first sight, and now she was giving it back to me, entirely, filled with new and wonderful feelings that I never thought I'd get to experience. Especially not with her.

But things have changed. In an instant. Being with her, making love to her, even having her fall asleep in my arms, comfortable against me, has changed me forever. It's not simply the humanity. Becoming a human would mean nothing to me if not for her. She's every source of light to me, every drop of hope.

Hope that I have, finally, for the future. Hope that I never had before.

My life seemed all sort of empty before these moments. This time, where I can laugh and play with her, where I can see her in the sunlight next to a beach where children are playing. Where I can, potentially, *give* her children one day. Happily ever after wasn't something I believed in.

It is now.

They watched as the love filtered around the room, shining, sparkling and tangible in a way that only the Higher Beings could see. One of Them reached out to touch it gently, touch a strand that floated by, and then pulled back immediately, burned and dazzled by the stinging emotions.

And They watched as the lovers fell asleep in each other's embrace, trusting that the other be there when they woke up. Knowing that even if one of them *was* gone, the love would still be there, and waiting, when they got back.

It was a stunning sight.

The two humans, exhausted from love-making, glowed a faint gold, wrapped in each other's arms. One of the Higher Beings smiled beatifically.

And They watched for more.

I closed my eyes for a moment, but they wouldn't stay closed. Finally, I opened them back up to look at her, to memorize her every sleeping feature, to drink in the curve of her neck and cheekbone. I inhaled, smelling the subtle scent of her vanilla perfume, and then I kissed her sleep-warmed mouth. Buffy let out a small sigh, a contented murmur, snuggling against my side, and then was quiet.

I smiled, brushing aside her hair, tracing my fingers in a light dance upon her skin. They dipped under the covers and trailed along the warmth of her stomach, the crevice in her breasts, her collarbone. Everything about her, every nuance, was precious to me. And I was in awe that she was mine.

I don't know how long we laid like that together-- hours, days, minutes and years all seemed to melt into each other when I was with her. Time had no meaning. Nothing had any meaning. Nothing but the feel of her in my arms.

Sometime later, a lot later, I heard someone open and close the door to my apartment. I gently extracted myself from her arms, careful not to wake her, and slid on my boxers before going out the door to check who it was.

It was Doyle. With bad news.

He explained to me that the Mohra demon had revived itself. I nodded, understanding, and threw on my shirt and some pants before heading for the door. His hand on my arm, though, gave me pause.

"Don't you think we need somebody a little... Supernatural?" he asked hesitantly.

I simply stared at him a moment, not understanding what he wanted me to do.

He jerked his head toward my bedroom door. "Don't you want to wake the girl?" he clarified.

I looked through the crack in my door to see Buffy, her face as relaxed and angelic as I've ever seen it, a small smile edged around her lips, her hair tousled and beautiful. I whispered my answer, overcome with love for her.

"Not for the world."

I didn't really go to sleep when Angel told me to. Instead I just laid there, enjoying the feeling of his arms around me, the smell of him, the warmth. My head was on his chest, and I was having a good time feeling the rise and fall of steady breath in him, hearing his heart thud beneath the skin.

He leaned down and kissed me softly, as softly as he's kissed me in my dreams, and I let out a sigh, snuggling against his warm frame.

It was wonderful. He let his slip through my hair, tenderly touching my scalp, then down past the blanket, slowly gliding to my stomach and breasts. I felt a small, warm flutter in my heart. He wasn't going to leave me this time. It *was* possible to attain and keep a true love. We were living (I smiled to myself at that-- Living. Angel was *living*.) proof of just that.

I finally *did* fall asleep, though I don't know how. Maybe it was the rhythmic thumping in his chest, or his breathing, or the heat coming from his skin that relaxed me so much that I could.

When I woke up, though, he was gone.

I smiled to myself, thinking that he was upstairs. I stretched luxuriously, reveling in the feeling that being in his bed gave me. Just then, moments after I woke up, his clock radio came on. I looked at it, trying to be annoyed but failing to feel anything but happy, and reached out to slam my hand down on the off button when the lyrics caught my ear.

"I can feel the magic floating in the air;
Being with you gets me that way.
I watch the sunlight dance across your face,
And I've - never been this swept away.

"All my thoughts just seem to settle on the breeze,
When I'm lyin' wrapped up in your arms.
The whole world just fades away; the only thing
I hear... is the beating of your heart.

"'Cause I can feel you breathe, It washes over me,
And suddenly I'm melting into you.
There's nothing left to prove,
Baby all we need is just to be -
Caught up in the touch,
Slow and steady rush...
Baby isn't that the way that love's supposed to be?
I can feel you breathe...
Just breathe!

"In a way I know my heart is waking up,
As all the walls come tumbling down.
Closer than I've ever felt before,
And I know, and you know;
There's no need for words right now.

"'Cause I can feel you breathe,
It washes over me,
And suddenly I'm melting into you.
There's nothing left to prove,
Baby all we need is just to be -
Caught up in the touch,
Slow and steady rush...
Baby isn't that the way that love's supposed to be?
I can feel you breathe...
Just breathe!

"Caught up in the touch,
Slow and steady rush...
Baby isn't that the way that love's supposed to be?
I can feel you breathe...
Just breathe!

"I can feel the magic floating in the air;
Being with you gets me that way."

"That was Faith Hill with 'Breathe," the announcer informed me, and suddenly, without knowing why, I was crying again. My shoulders shook, and I was filled with such gratefulness, that I was only sad that Angel wasn't there to share it with me.

I wiped my eyes and slipped on my clothes before heading upstairs to look for Angel.

Maybe I did it to prove that I could still take care of myself and Buffy, human or not. I suppose it was a pretty striking blow to my ego to find out differently, to learn that fingers that got broken while hitting someone didn't heal in an hour, and that taking a fall of more than ten feet could very well break my neck. And having Buffy come save me, as proud as I was of her in that moment, also made me angry because *I* was the one who *she* had leaned on, one of the only people who could save *her* when she needed to be saved.

I wasn't angry at her, you see.

I was simply angry at the human body that had given me so much pleasure. Which might be one of the reasons it was taken away from me. Perhaps I didn't deserve it, and never have. The reasons are inconsequential now, anyway. They don't matter, like nothing matters, now that the Fate has been decided.

I wondered a long time ago, when I first got my soul back, if I would ever be allowed to feel again. I had been so secluded from emotion for so long, that I thought I was numb to it. And then it came back to me in shocking waves; grief and remorse, pain over the pain I had cause others.

And then I saw Buffy. And the other feelings came.

I wasn't really numb after all. I was just... waiting for the right feelings, I guess.

But none of this matters, either. It's just talk. Talking to myself never prepared me for anything I had to do, so I don't know why I bother to do it anyway. The grief will show in her eyes when I tell her what the Oracles said, what they granted me, and why I asked for what I did. I'll see sorrow and anger, but especially hurt, which I would rather die than to cause her.

So I told her, and we argued about what my reasons were, and then her face crumpled, and I my heart crumpled with it. Every hope, gone. Every dream, vanished. Everything that was attainable to us in the last twenty-four hours is no longer so, and it's all my fault. We both knew it.

So I pulled her into my arms and cradled her head against my chest, feeling her tears soak through my sweater and burn my skin. I wanted to let her know that for every tear that I've made her cry, I've cried a hundred more in regret, and for every hope that I've made her forget, a thousand dreams that could never be weighed heavily on my mind. But I didn't. I just held her.

We whispered words to each other, an explanation from me, a denial from her, and then she simply stared at me, and touched my chest longingly.

"I felt your heart beat," she whispered with infinite sadness, and I wanted to die a thousand deaths at the break in her voice when she said that.

We kissed, aching and hungry for something that would never be. Her hands slipped up to my shoulders, and she pressed herself closer to me, her breasts crushed against my chest, and I hugged her waist tightly, wanting the moment to last forever.

But of course, like all moments, it was just that. And it wasn't going to last.

The next thing I knew, our promises and secrets and happiness were broken by a blinding light, and my arms were empty of her. And a cold chill settled over my heart.

I wouldn't fight this one, I decided.

I would let myself feel nothing.

I suddenly wanted to cry as I looked at him, reading his face as well as I did. He was keeping something from me, I could see it, but I refused to ask what it was, though he probably wanted me to. Instead, I finished the speech I had carefully prepared, and stared at him evenly, *wanting* to feel nothing, but not quite accomplishing that.

I should have known. None of the things I want are ever really accomplished.

That's just the way things are.

Seeing Angel, even for only the five minutes I had, I felt warm and cold inside, at the same time, like I had been touched in a way that I couldn't fathom. We hadn't kissed, or even grazed each other as we passed, but there was something that I was missing, and I had a feeling that he knew what it was.

But, again, I wasn't going to ask. Get in, tell him what you need to say, and get out as quickly as possible, or else you might lose your heart, were my rules for going to see him. And I knew that I had to stick to them because as much as I didn't want anything to happen, I wanted *everything* to happen, and wanting everything never panned out well for me. I always ended up getting hurt in the long run.

So I started to leave, and we got attacked my a demon, and for a split second I felt déjà vu, and amazement, and familiarity as I watched Angel kill him. Like old times, right? Remember that sort of thing with fondness? I bet it would be a lot easier to do that, if the simple act of remembering didn't hurt my heart like hell.

And then I left.

Maybe I stared at him for a little longer than I should have. Maybe I let him say one too many words before I ran out of the room, or maybe it was just that I loved him too much to remind myself of him in any way and not be affected.

As it was, I felt the tears start as soon as I left.

But I hoped they would leave soon.

I planned on being good and numb by the time I got home.

The Higher Beings witnessed this all in awe of the anguish that existed between the two of them. One of Them touched Her cheek, shocked to feel a length of water running down Her cheek. "Water?" She asked in amazement.

The Other was looking at her, quite surprised as well. "A tear, I believe, holy and rare. You should keep it," Her Brother said with a smile. "Crystallize it. Tears come so little to Us that they are priceless," He explained.

She smiled at him. Their minds connected swiftly, and in an instant, the Fates were again decided.

It wasn't their fault that the Vampire was more noble than they had anticipated. They, even in Their infinite wisdom, didn't have the insight to see into people's hearts, to read their minds. So They decided to work it out. This time, it would work. And the Slayer would be contented, and the Vampire's love sated with her.

That is, if everything went according to the plan.

Four Years Later

Willow sidled up next to Buffy, casually chewing on a piece of celery. "Was that Angel's voice I heard?"

Buffy's mouth was open, but she was silent. She touched the answering machine carefully, with a trembling hand, tracing over the speaker lightly. After a moment, she answered with a whispered, "Yes."

Willow looked at her in concern. "And we're not happy about that?"

Buffy finally looked up. "Oh. No, it's not... I'm not *unhappy* about it. Not really. I just... I didn't expect..."

Willow laid a hand on her shoulder, her eyebrows knitted. "Expect him to call, right? How long has it been, Buffy? I know you haven't forgotten him."

"It's been... A little over four years, I think. Since I saw him for those few minutes in LA." Her eyes were bright, shimmering with tears. Her voice shook. "I thought, maybe, that I was... You know, over him. I didn't think I would feel like this, and all I did was hear his voice."

She turned to Willow, who frowned, in anguish. Willow studied her for a moment. "What did the message say?"

Buffy cracked a tense smile. "What else? Big trouble. Naturally. I guess too big for him to just come to Sunnydale and watch over me in the dark..." She trailed off.

"Did he say what *kind* of trouble?" Willow pressed.

"No. Just to get Giles-- Angel couldn't reach him-- and everyone, and to come to LA as soon as possible. And that we should pack to be there for at least a week," Buffy explained, calming. Her smile this time was a little more relaxed. "He really loves going all Cryptinator on us, doesn't he?"

Willow laughed. "He always has," she agreed. Then she tugged on Buffy's hand. "Come on. We need to pack, get Giles... You know, assemble the troops."

Buffy nodded, took one last lingering look at the answering machine, and then followed Willow to the closet.

"I had taken some cold medication!" Giles protested for the umpteenth time. "How was I supposed to know that it would make me sleep so heavily?"

"You weren't." Xander smiled. "That's why people read the labels on the bottles before they take it. If not, we'd all walk around in a coma."

Giles grumbled something under his breath, falling silent when they reached the sign that read that LA was less than twenty minutes away. He took a sidelong glance at Buffy, his eyes worried. "Are you doing all right?"

She bit her lip. "Yeah. A... little nervous, I think. I'm pretty different, it's been a long time. But overall, I'm fine. At least, I'm pretty sure that I'm fine."

Xander reached over the seat to rub her shoulders for a moment, calming her. She threw a smile behind her shoulder in thanks, and he pulled his hands away, looking at her contemplatively. "You're not *that* different, you know."

"Please," she muttered. "Even I see it."

"Buff, your hair is longer and you're thinner, but that's all," he pointed out.

Willow shook her head. "No, I can see it, too," she said softly. "I don't think that's what she means. It's... something inside of you, right? Something older?"

Buffy nodded. "Right. Sort of like I'm not who I was, who I've always been. I've changed a lot in that respect. I've been planning on meeting him again someday, you know, when I was all pulled together and could control myself... And now I don't know if that'll be possible." She gave a tight laugh. "Look at me. The Slayer afraid of a vampire. Who *isn't* even evil," she added. "It's just weird."

Giles smiled compassionately. "Well, perhaps this is just nerves talking. You never know; you may see him and be completely at ease with the relationship you two once shared. It *has* been a long time."

Buffy straightened her spine, sitting up. She nodded again, decisively. "You're right. I shouldn't stress. I should just... Take things as they come, and live with whatever happens," she said resolutely.

The only problem was, she didn't believe her words.

They slowed and halted in front of Angel's detective agency. The group piled out, but Buffy remained seated for a moment, gathering her courage, banishing the thoughts and dreams of him that had haunted her in the four years they had been separated. It wouldn't do any good to think of those things now. All it would do was bring heartache. And she figured that she'd had enough heartache in her life.

Willow glanced at her as she, Giles, and Xander made their way up the steps. She nodded in Buffy's direction, but as Giles and Xander turned to go back, Willow shook her head, indicating that they should go on in. After hesitating for a moment, they nodded their heads back, and went inside.

Willow hopped down the steps and approached the car. She knelt down, opening the door. "Come on out," she encouraged quietly.

"Are you sure I can't just stay in here and come out when it's time to fight?" Buffy asked in a small voice.

"Buffy." Willow became stern. "You're twenty-two years old. You're the strongest Slayer in history. If Angel gets saucy, I'll stake him for you, okay?"

A smile flickered around Buffy's lips. "He *does* like to get saucy," she agreed. "But he does it in a subtle way, so that you're not sure if he's joking or not. Are you sure you'll be able to tell?"

"I have a saucy meter. It'll range his sauciness. Come on." Willow extended her hand, and Buffy took it, stepping out of the vehicle and closing the door behind her firmly.

"All right. But beware of the backhanded insult to Xander. Wouldn't want to stake Angel when you think he's being saucy and really he's just putting Xander in his place," Buffy laughed.

She took a deep breath, and looked over at Willow, who smiled.

They started up the stairs.

When they got there, the two men and one dark vampire were sitting in awkward silence. It had only taken Giles a moment to realize that he had nothing to say to Angel, unless he was talking about Buffy, and that Buffy wouldn't appreciate him talking behind her back when he had barely been forgiven for concealing Angel's presence at Thanksgiving all those years ago.

And Xander, well, he left Angel alone, recognizing the sadness in his eyes. Xander had finally matured enough to see that they had a lot in common, each loving women who were out of their reach. Each loving a woman who was perfect in their sights, but someone they didn't dare try to have. Xander saw something else in his eyes, too, some deeper memory buried there, but he chose not to comment on it.

And Angel... Well, he was barely able to keep from screaming in the anticipation of Buffy's arrival.

He smelled her before he saw her. That light and airy scent of vanilla and roses, as if on a breeze, floated into his office, and he looked up, stunned with her beauty.

She smiled hesitantly, her eyes large and sad. The blue was darker, touched by a longing that he, too, was feeling. He stood when she stepped into the room, accompanied by Willow, and felt his heart tighten as her smile grew. "Hi," she murmured, almost shyly.

He cleared his throat. "Hi. It's... Good to see you," he lied gently, knowing that he couldn't tell her of the hope and joy that shot through his heart at setting his eyes upon her fresh face. She was like the sun to him, something else that he wasn't allowed to be around. Love filled his throat, and it tightened, and he paused, not knowing what to say next.

Buffy threw a glance to Willow, who was looking at her cautiously, and seemed to find strength in her friend's concern. She stepped forward, embracing Angel with a quick, over-too-soon, maddeningly warm hug.

Angel started in surprise, then folded his arms around her for a moment before she pulled away. He could hear her heartbeat beating rapidly, could smell the blood that was now racing through her veins. He took a small-- very small-- comfort in knowing that he still had some effect on her life.

After the hug, she looked at him seriously. "So," she said without any preamble. "What was it that you needed us to come up here for?"

Angel nodded, regaining his wits, and turned away from the appeal of simply gazing at her. "I didn't want to waste time explaining this over the phone," he apologized. "But, apparently, Buffy and I killed a demon last week, at the same moment... At least, that's what I'm assuming." He turned his eyes on her, pierced her with his gaze. "Did you meet a Kantchra demon last week?"

She nodded, confused. "Yes."

"Do you remember when you killed it?"

"Thursday night," she told him. "Midnight, I think."

Angel sighed, and lowered himself into a chair. "It's was done necessarily. Don't get me wrong. And when one is about to die, the other-- it's mate-- feels it and finds death on itself. I'm guessing that that's why the other found me. They mate once in their life, to reproduce-- Which is interesting, considering that not many demons reproduce through the act of sex... I mean, sexual acts, yes, but not the actual--" he broke off when he realized everyone was staring at him. Angel gave an embarrassed smile. "Anyway. So I kill the demon, you kill the demon, at the same time, and the world as we know it falls apart."

Giles leaned forward, taking off his glasses. "What do you mean, falls apart?" he asked seriously.

"I mean," Angel said slowly, "That the humans of this world become food for Kantchra demons. All of them." He hesitated. "With the exception of the Slayer."

"What happens to me?" Buffy asked against her will, not really concerned with her life but instead with the lives of her friends. "How can I stop it?"

"I'm still working on that," he told her gently. "But you...." He trailed off, the words caught in his throat, causing him pain.

"What??" Willow stepped forward, her eyes bright with tears.

"The Slayer will die on the first night of battle," he whispered, tears closing his throat, "And become one of them when the sun sets on the next night."

"You must be mistaken, Angel," Giles spoke up, his voice hard. "Not only have we refuted prophesies like this many times, but I haven't read anything like this in the books in which I studied the Kantchra demon."

"Well, I'm not mistaken," Angel said certainly, "But I'm *hoping* that this one can be fought down. That's why I brought you here." He paused for a moment, flipping through the old text that lay in front of him. "You didn't read anything unusual, Giles? Because, though it's not strange for such prophesies to have been recorded only once, it *is* a little odd that there was nothing strange about what you did read..."

Xander broke into the conversation. "So what does this mean? We'll wander around, being mindless fodder for them? Like, we won't fight, or anything?"

"No," Willow said in a small voice. "That's what the Kantchra demon does, remember? We studied it last month, Xander."

"Oh." He sat back, pursed his lips in worry. "They're the ones that can control the minds of their prey, right? Great. I love these sorts of fights." He turned to Buffy curiously, "How was it they didn't control your mind?"

"I'm the Slayer," she said softly, as if that explained everything. Her mouth turned down.

It *did* explain everything.

"Ah," he muttered, then closed his eyes tiredly.

Giles stood, with a burst of energy. "Now that I think of it, Angel, yes. There was something in the Atramentous Scripture. It mentions a fight to the death in the end times, where the blood-- the death-- of the Holy is all that will be able to save the world." He frowned. "I can't believe I'd forgotten that. It was something that had leapt out at me from the page."

Willow patted his arm sympathetically. "We've all been there, Giles."

"Been where?"

"Off our game," she informed him.

He smirked at her. "Well, thank you, Willow."

She nodded, pleased she could help.

"The blood of the Holy," Angel muttered, standing as well, and walking over to his filing cabinet. "Do you think that means...?"

An uneasy silence fell, and everyone tried to keep their eyes from turning to Buffy.

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, people. Not looking at me isn't going to make this untrue, either way." Her voice became unnaturally quiet. "And, anyway... I've always known that Slayers die to save the world... It's what we've always done, what we'll always do. Right?"

"Not you," Giles swore softly. "You're to be the exception."

"There are always exceptions to exceptions," she said, her eyes glassy. "Angel, do you have a bathroom, anywhere?"

He looked at her, anguish written on his face.

Buffy smile awkwardly. "Long car ride," she explained.

He forced a smile for her benefit. "Yeah. Um, two doors down the hall. On your right."

Once she had left the room, Angel turned to Giles. "Did you happen to bring the Atramentous Scriptures with you? They could help, possibly."

Giles nodded. "Yes. I wasn't certain whether or not you would need my books-- I brought a wide array of them. The Codex, the Black Chronicles, the Atramentous Scriptures, the--"

"Giles," Angel interrupted, looking at the Watcher seriously.

"Oh, right." He nodded. "They're in my car."

Angel graced him with a smile. "Thank you."

I just needed to be away from him for a minute. He was suffocating me, the mere presence of him... Not in a bad way. Just... I realized suddenly, in that room, that I could fall in love with him all over again, fast and furiously, and I wouldn't even know it until later, when my heart was broken again.

This way... This way I was in love with him in the way that I always had been, with my head above water, knowing that I had things under control, even if they hurt. I couldn't be with him, I couldn't have him. Angel wasn't for me, he was for the world like I was, and we couldn't belong to each other in a situation like that.

I paused, that thought reminding me of something, though I couldn't grasp what. It sounded like something he had said to me once, but after searching my mind, I couldn't figure when or why.

Finally, I shook off the feeling, wiped the stray tears that had slipped out from under my lashes, and squared my shoulders. There were things to be done.

Dying for the world, for one. Oh yeah. That was on the top of my list.

Just great.

Buffy was back in the office by the time Giles bounded back up the stairs, out of breath. He smiled triumphantly, gripping the book in his hand. "Here it is."

"Do you remember what passage you read it in, Giles?" Angel asked.

"Of course." Giles opened the text and began reading aloud, translating the Latin text quickly. "The end years pass and fade, and on the night after the last sunrise during the final battle, a Holy one will spill the blood in themselves and perish. The blood marks the end of the demon race, and the death marks a new beginning for the life of humanity." His brow furrowed in confusion, still looking at the page.

Buffy touched his hand lightly. "What is it, Giles?"

"I just... I'm not sure I understand what follows," he muttered, his mind working furiously. "It must be an unfinished sentence."

"What does it say?" she persisted.

"The torn wing is able."

"And?" she asked.

"And nothing." His eyes held hers. "That's all it says. I'm sorry, Buffy."

She broke contact with his gaze. Her voice was hoarse, and she cleared it, trying to look confident and strong, trying to look like the formidable Slayer that she was. "It's okay. Like you've said, I've defeated a lot of these prophesies. It'll be fine. I'm sure I'll make it through the night..."

Suddenly, she turned to Angel. "What night?"

He looked surprised. "Excuse me?"

"When?" she asked again. "What night are we talking about?"

He shuffled through his papers, and began reading. "The full moon after the fourth year of the second millennium, the people will lose their consciousness and prepare for knowing loss of themselves. In the final battle, it shall come to pass that the Holy Chosen one shall die and be reborn as the death that claims them."

He shoved the book away, closing it decisively, in disgust.

"Angel," Buffy whispered, her throat closing up.

He stood and leaned against his desk for a moment, closing his eyes. "It's not going to happen to you, Buffy. I promise."

Terror seized her. "What do you mean?"

He opened his eyes and caught the amazing blue of her gaze with them. "I'm going after them." Then he walked over to her, very quickly. His eyes bore into hers, and his thumb gently slid over the smooth skin of her jaw down to her chin, tilting it up. "Stay here. Promise me."

"I can't, Angel--" she began to protest.

He kissed her. Softly, sadly. She tasted the salt of his pent-up tears, and wanted to cry. "Please," he whispered. "I know I haven't done much to make you happy, Buffy, and I know that it's been a long time... But please let me do this and not have to worry about you getting hurt. Because I couldn't take that. It would kill me."

"I'll promise to stay here if you promise to come back," she said softly, drinking in his gaze, oblivious to her friends, who were looking at the two of them in concern.

"I promise to try," he swore, and she believed him.

Finally, he looked away, to Giles and Willow. "Just take the elevator downstairs to my apartment. You should be relatively safe there. And, Giles?"

Giles patted his book. "I'll continue to search."

He smiled. "Thanks."

After taking one last look around, he was out the door, his black coat swishing behind him as he left.

And Buffy watched, a sinking feeling in her heart.

I kissed her once, knowing that I probably wouldn't come back. And I didn't reveal that I had learned where the Master demon's lair was, because I knew for sure that she would come after me. But that didn't matter. I knew she might anyway, might follow and make sure I couldn't feel her presence.

And I made the promise because... That was the only thing that I could do. I hated lying to my beloved, hated that there was yet another secret between us, but I wanted to remember her that way if I *was* going to be the one to die. I didn't want her to be, so it would *have* to be me. I didn't want to have to see her lying broken and bloody in my arms, and have that memory haunt me for the rest of my nights.

Instead, I chose to look at her and remember her for what she was at that moment. A scared woman, a beautiful woman who loved me and saw the danger and told me of her feelings with a response to my kiss.

Losing me may be hard for her to accept right now, but losing her wasn't something I was willing to deal with.

Not ever.

A heavy silence had settled over the whole group, who were sitting downstairs in Angel's apartment. Giles, Willow and Xander were leafing through ancient texts and prophesies with some hope for a different take on what was happening, and Buffy was merely sitting in shell-shocked silence, staring at a book but not bothering to read it while she bit her nails.

"I can't believe I just let him go like that," she murmured.

Giles looked up. "Pardon?"

"I can't believe I just let him go like that," she repeated, furiously this time. "I mean, I'm the Slayer! I don't take orders from anyone, not even you, Giles. Is it because I haven't seen him in so long, because he was so concerned about me? Because of the stupid prophesy??" She stood. "I'm going after him."

"But you don't know where he went, Buff," Xander interjected.

"I know," she said quietly, certainly.

Willow approached her slowly. "You do?"

"Well..." Her eyes dropped, and then raised again, her voice only for Willow. "I will. I can follow my senses... Especially when it comes to Angel. You know how I feel about him, Will. I have to do this. He would have done-- he *is* doing-- the same thing for me... Why does there have to be a double standard? He's been gone almost all night. The sun rises in two hours. I have to find him."

"Buffy..." Willow trailed off, her eyes glassy.

"Please don't ask me to stay," Buffy whispered seriously.

Willow nodded, and embraced her friend quickly, then watched as Buffy moved over to Xander. She ruffled his dark hair, a soft smile covering her face. "I'll be back, Xand," she murmured.

He stood also, kissed her cheek. "You'd better keep that promise," he commanded warmly. "And come back to us a.s.a.p."

Buffy bobbed her head obediently as she walked over to Giles, who was still sitting, a horrified look on his face. She kneeled down before him. "The full moon isn't until tomorrow night, Giles," she reminded him, touching his cheek. "I don't know why everyone is so worried."

"We always worry about you," he reminded her back, a small smile lifting his lips.

She hugged him. "I love you, Watcher Man," she whispered in his ear.

Giles swallowed hard, his arms encircling her. "And I, you, Chosen One," he said softly, fondly.

Buffy pulled away from him and looked around the room at her friends, brushing away a few stray tears. And then she turned and was gone.

The fight was over quickly. I came in, killed a few minions, and then went after the Master demon. But he had been expecting me. A poisoned metal dart through my heart and his laughter echoing through his chamber told me everything that I had done wrong. Still, I had managed to pull the dart from my chest and stab him through the throat with it.

Apparently, it was much slower-working on vampires.

Which was why I was laying in the pool of my own blood, waiting to die.

The pain reminded me of the last time I had been pinned with a poison dart, all those years ago. Except I knew without doubt that this time, no blood would be able to save me. Not even Buffy's. Which I suppose relieved me a little, knowing that I would be able to refuse her if she offered herself to me again in that way. I knew that if I *had* been required to drink from her again to save my life, I wouldn't be able to, because it would cause a stronger connection than there was now, a stronger and more painful connection, with the knowledge that we couldn't be together anymore.

I was slipping in and out of consciousness, and I knew suddenly what the prophesy had really been saying. It hadn't been talking about Buffy.

It had been talking about me.

Though I don't know why in the world I should be called Holy. Perhaps Giles had mistranslated a word that meant my name.

But I was ready and willing to die for the word, for Buffy. There was no greater honor than dying so that the person you loved with your whole heart wouldn't have to.

Giles looked up from his book. "Of course!" he muttered angrily.

Xander and Willow pinned him with their gazes. "What?" they asked in unison.

"This is new," he mumbled, still to himself. He finally looked up and glanced at them. "This doesn't translate as merely 'holy,' but 'holy angel.' I cannot believe I didn't see it." He flipped the page frantically. "And this... This changes the entire prophesy."

"What?!" they demanded.

"It says that the battle was to have been fought tonight... And the death is the night of the full moon," he explained. "The death that will save humanity. ...Angel's death, I believe."

"Oh, God," Xander said, his mouth dry.

Willow's forehead creased, fearing for her friend's heart. "Buffy."

As soon as I was out of the apartment, out of the building, I was following him. I don't know how I knew I was doing so-- I just did. I could feel the way he walked, the direction. I could practically see Angel in front of me, his distinctive step showing me the way to go. I smiled, my heart hopeful for the first time since he had left.

And maybe I wouldn't come back. But it would have been worth it, to save his life.

We couldn't be together, I knew. But we couldn't be apart-- not *really* apart, where death was involved-- either, and still stay alive. Not without knowing that the other was still in the world, waiting.

I found myself in a small, dank alley, about five miles from Angel's building. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, not sure when I had begun running. Angel was near, I could sense him.

As soon as I caught my breath, I made my way to the end of the alley, and then down some clanging metal stairs. I reached the bottom, and the floor looked like cement, but I could feel that it wasn't, and could feel that Angel was just beyond. I kicked in the ground, and it crumbled beneath my feet.

Looking down, I could see that there had been a massive fight. Tables were overturned, chairs had been busted apart, and broken glass practically covered the floor. I hopped down neatly, landing on my feet, and carefully made my way through the rooms, noticing that each of them had been demolished.

And then I felt Angel, felt his pain, and fear, and love for me.

I could always feel his love for me.

I looked around the room, but couldn't see him, so I called out. "Angel?"

"Buffy," he breathed.

I ran over to him. He was lying underneath some papers and books that had been knocked over. I quickly brushed them off of him, and tried to help him up, and then I noticed that he was covered in blood.

My heart seemed to stop in my chest.

The blood was his.

"Oh, Angel," she wept, pulling his head into her lap.

"It was me," he informed her with a thin smile.

"It's not for another night!" Buffy protested, her tears falling onto his face.

Angel reached up and brushed them off her cheeks tenderly, his hands lingering on the silk of her skin. "I don't know... But I know that it wasn't you who was supposed to die. Thank God."

"No!" Buffy took a couple of deep breaths and shook her head, slightly calmer. "No. You have to be wrong. I was thinking about this.... Angel, please..."

He smiled again, sadly, and held out his arms. "Help me up? I'm a little... weak."

"What was it?" she asked fearfully.

"Poison."

"Can I...?" she started to offer hoarsely.

"There's no cure," Angel interrupted. Buffy pulled on his hands until he was standing, and he put his arm around her shoulders, leaning on her. She carefully led him through the lair and up to the street, and didn't allow him to speak again.

Because she didn't know what he would say.

And she didn't know what she would say back.

A fine sheen of sweat beaded Buffy's brow as she helped Angel through the door and down to his apartment. Even the Slayer would a little bit of trouble practically carrying a grown man for miles, she justified silently. Not that she minded. In fact, loathe though she was to admit it, she liked the closeness of holding him, of supporting him, her arms threaded around his waist, his arm slung over her shoulder. It was almost... intimate.

She distantly heard the shocked gasps that greeted their arrival, and merely grunted in response, carrying Angel directly to his bedroom, helping him onto his bed. He fell on it tiredly, his eyes focusing on her and then falling away, as if she was too bright to stare directly at. Buffy blinked back some tears and hefted his legs onto the bed, pulling at his shoes, then peeling off his socks.

"Buffy?" Willow's voice was hesitant.

"Help me get his shirt off," Buffy said, wasting no time, lifting Angel into an upright position for a moment. Willow nodded and scurried to her side, pulling Angel's shirt up over his head, revealing a pale chest with a gaping, bleeding wound. Buffy cursed when she saw the injury. "What did they shoot him with, a cannonball?"

"Oh..." Willow's sharp intake of breath belied her worried smile to Buffy. "Um. I'm sure we'll be able to fix this up in no time."

"Can't..." Angel's voice was ragged; he was getting weaker with every minute that passed. "It won't..."

"Will," Buffy begged, her eyes meeting Willow's over the Angel's shaking form, "Can you try to find something?"

"Yeah," Willow mumbled, ahead of her, already leaning forward to dab at Angel's wound with a tissue. She saw Buffy's confused look. "Blood sample. Not as good as if I had taken it with a needle, but we need to see what was done to him... Anyway." She nodded to herself and then fled from the room, no doubt in search of books.

Buffy snatched up some of the tissues Willow had left behind. She touched the bloody area slightly, wincing when Angel flinched, but made herself finish cleaning it, at least as well as she could with a few pieces of Kleenex. She climbed onto the bed next to Angel, folding her legs underneath her and taking his hand tightly in her grip. He stirred slightly, a gentle smile slipping onto his face when his eyes fluttered open and rested on her.

Giles cleared his throat from the doorway. "I'm sorry, Buffy," he murmured, his voice laced with tension and concern.

"You figured it out," she stated, not looking up.

"Yes. Almost as soon as you had gone," he admitted, as if confessing to some hideous crime. He approached the pair slowly, then stopped when he reached the side of the bed. "I wish that there was something we could do..."

"Oh, because you'd just miss him *so* much, wouldn't you?" she spat out bitterly.

Giles gazed at her in shock, and pain.

Buffy's shoulders slumped. Her words seemed to echo through the room, endlessly hurting. "I'm sorry," she finally choked out, holding back a scream, a sob, a wail of grief. Anything that would release all the pain she was holding in. "You didn't deserve... I know that you've been... You've been good, Giles, and..." Her voice became a whisper, and then nothing, as she tried to get herself under control.

Giles stepped forward and placed his palm on her back.

And the Slayer broke down.

Huge, gulping sobs tore out of her throat. It sounded like gasping, like wheezing, like real crying always does. Giles calmly rubbed his hand against her spine, waiting out the tears. "It's all right, Buffy," he soothed. "It will be all right, in time."

"It won't," she gasped. "I just... Am I supposed to spend my life losing him, Giles?"

"No," Angel broke in, his words soft and quiet. "No, Ciat. I don't think it was meant to be this way."

Giles silently took this in, and nodded at Angel over Buffy's shoulder. He gave a tight smile, then left the room, as quietly as he had entered, leaving his Slayer and her vampire alone, together.

"Angel," Buffy whimpered, leaning down to kiss him softly, a simple caress of her lips on his. His hand loosely tangled through her hair and with the small amount of strength he still possessed, he pulled her down until she was lying next to him, her cheek against his chest. Buffy sniffled, sighed, and molded her body to the shape of his.

"I love you, Buffy."

I felt her quick intakes of breath, saw her frightened eyes for what they were-- The gaze of someone who loved me, really loved me, and felt completely helpless in what was happening. Not just someone, though. Buffy. It was always her. Even before I met her, centuries before she was born, before even I was born. It was me for her and her for me, though I don't know what I ever did to deserve that sort of a blessing in my life.

I wanted to tell her all of this, to say the things that I had only once allowed myself to say, the things that she would never remember, but I opened my mouth and all that came out was a simple, "I love you, Buffy."

She lifted her head from my chest, those soft blue eyes glittering with unshed tears, glowing into mine, and nodded. Touched my chest tenderly, careful not to accidentally touch my wound. Her lower lip trembled, her chin crumpling. "I love you too, Angel."

"It's been too long since I've said that," I murmured. "To you, anyway."

"It's been too long since I've heard it," she countered, sniffling. Then she gave me a shaky smile. "But it sure is nice to hear."

I have to admit, that felt good.

"I don't understand any of this!" Willow looked up plaintively, silently asking for help. Giles and Xander stood and walked over to her, standing behind her as she flipped frantically through her book.

Xander touched her shoulder lightly. "What is it, Willow?"

"It's just..." She sighed angrily. "It makes no sense."

"Then there *is* no cure?" Giles pressed gently.

"Well, it says that there *is* one," Willow explained, licking her lips slowly, in confusion. "But I don't get it."

"Well, what's the cure?" Xander looked at her expectantly.

Willow looked back down at the text, her brow knitted in bewilderment, in worry. Then she looked back up and locked eyes, first with Giles, and then with Xander. Her voice was hushed, serious, and as she spoke, she sent a nervous glance in the direction of Angel's bedroom, fearful that Buffy might overhear.

"It says that the cure, the only cure," she whispered, "Is death."

The day passed fairly quietly. Willow, Xander and Giles stayed out of Angel's room, and Buffy stayed in his arms, as content as she ever was-- ever could be again. The night began to fall, and Angel's spasms were getting worse. He would start violently, shuddering, tossing his head back and forth. Buffy crooned softly to him, brushed back the hair that was sticking to his forehead, and set loving kisses on his mouth.

She didn't know what else to do.

After hours of silence, Buffy rose and pulled herself away from Angel for a moment, though she knew full well that one moment away from him was one moment too long. She stepped out of his room, closing the door softly behind her, and wrapped her arms around herself. "Guys?" she asked. "Anything?"

They looked up from around the table where they had been sitting. Their eyes were wide. Trapped. Buffy stepped forward.

"What?" Her eyes narrowed. "I almost think it's worse than there not being a cure..."

"Buff..." Xander's voice broke, and he looked down. "Angel's going to... It's what's going to happen. It's been written."

She simply stared at them all for a few minutes and then nodded, closing her eyes, swallowing her tears. "Okay," she whispered hollowly. Shivers wracked her body and she rubbed her arms, fighting back more tears, more tears than she had shed in a lifetime.

Quietly, she let herself back into his room, and shut the door. "Buffy?" Angel called, his back arching, jerking off the bed, in pain.

She ran to his side, folded him in her arms. "Angel, Angel, Angel," she chanted, as if in prayer.

He smiled, sleepily. "Ceisd mo chridhe," he murmured. "Ta gra agam ort."

Tears sprung into her eyes before she could force them back. The language, his language, she knew, was lovely. "What does that mean?" she asked, tenderly stroking his face, touching his eyelashes. His eyes blinked open in confusion, and then he smiled again when he realized he hadn't been speaking in English.

"Darling of my heart," he translated softly. "I love you. Oh, Buffy, how I love you."

Her tears splashed onto his face, a warm and gentle, salty rain. "I wish that I knew something to say to you, like that, that showed you how much you mean to me," she whispered. "I wish it could be beautiful and mean the world to you... I wish we never parted."

"Everything you say means the world to me," he admonished gently. His jaw tightened in pain, he felt it rip through his chest, hot and burning, melting everything away from him. Finally it lessened, and he knew he didn't have much time. He looked up into her lost, lonely eyes. "But now isn't the time for wishing, Beloved."

Buffy leaned closer to hear him, her eyes never leaving his. Angel continued.

"It's not the time for wishes we could have made in the past," he managed. "Now is the time for you to kiss me."

Buffy blinked, surprised.

"Kiss me once," he murmured, "And say goodbye."

I couldn't do much more than shake my head... I rationalized that if I *didn't* kiss him, that if I didn't say goodbye, he wouldn't leave me. And there had been so much lost time, so many years of dreaming and wishing and loving him from afar. How could I lose him now, when we were finally close again?

He saw me shake my head-- His eyes looked so blurry, so distant that it scared me-- and reached up, touching my hair. He let it slip through his fingers, and I closed my eyes at the feel of his fingers on my scalp. So many things, I would miss. "Do you love me, Buffy?" he asked bluntly.

"You know I do, I've said I do!" I wept, unable to hold the tears back.

"Then that won't change, after I'm gone. And it won't change that I love you," he said reasonably, his voice shaking. "That's what love does. It fills you up. In time, you won't even remember the bad things. Only the good."

I stared at him blankly, hearing his words as a farewell.

He continued. His voice was getting fainter, his eyes fluttered closed. "Tell me you remember, Buffy..."

"Remember?" I managed.

"Yes..." A smile curved his lips, the smile that only I had ever seen. "Even if it's a lie. I know it's a lie, but tell me you remember anyway. Tell me that you love me for that day, that night."

"I love you for all the days, all the nights!" I whispered, almost feverishly.

"No, tell me it was *that* day... With my heartbeat," he said insistently, his eyes fully closed. A tear slipped down the side of his face, falling onto his earlobe. I watched it trickle there, almost dazedly. "Tell me. Please."

His heartbeat. Angel's heartbeat. I felt something stir in my chest, some painful recognition, and though I didn't remember what was pulling at my mind and heart, whatever was hanging in front of my eyes, I knew that what he was saying was true.

"I love you for that day," I whispered. I touched the wetness of the tear from his cheek, then stared at my fingertips. "I'll always love you for that day, Angel, for giving me that day... That night. What you gave to me." The words flowed directly from my heart to my mouth. I had no time to think of them, or even what they meant, but I was speaking simple statements of truth and love. I would think later. I would tell him now. "It was perfect. It's always been perfect, just being with you, but that's what I love you most for... I'll always love you, Angel."

And then I kissed him, slowly. My mouth touched his and it was as sweet as ever. His fingers touched the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and I obliged. The kiss wasn't passionate, just simple and sweet and full of the love that we would never get to share again. I knew it, felt it, as surely as I was breathing.

Then his hand fell away from me.

I opened my eyes, my tears falling into his dark hair, and looked at him.

For a long time, I was quiet. And then small, choked noises forced their way out of my throat.

Angel-- My Angel-- had died.

They watched the grief form on her face. Watched the tragic tears slide down her cheeks. Watched her eyes fade as she realized that the one she loved most was gone. Heard her ragged gasps, the chokes emitting from her mouth, the sobs that she was trying so hard to reign in.

And They smiled. For her emotion, for the love that-- after minutes and years-- would always hang in the room. Light and bright and beautiful and shining. Always there. When the two of them were together, it was stronger, more brilliant, dazzling. One of Them turned to the Other and nodded. The Other smiled and shook His head. "Not yet," He whispered to Her. "Not yet."

The anguish was almost tangible. His eyes were closed-- she would never again get to see the way they darkened when they rested on her. His face was slack-- she would never again get to see him smile when they looked at each other. His lips were eerily relaxed-- she would never again get to feel them on her own, get to heat them up with her warmth, get to have the taste of him against her mouth.

Buffy sobbed against his chest, her hands stroking his face blindly, her tears cleansing both of their souls.

For a long, long time she rested like that, holding him, touching him. Finally her weeping slowed and quieted, and she was still. Sucking her breath in and then exhaling. In, out. In, out. Her mind cleared slowly, the clouds around her thoughts slowly moving away.

She lifted up her head, stared at him. Paused.

Then she got up from the bed and walked to the door, letting herself out. Willow, Xander, and Giles's heads jerked up in anticipation. A chill whipped through her body, but Buffy controlled it and centered herself. "He's dead," she said at length.

"Oh, Buff..." Xander replied.

"Buffy..." Willow's eyes were sad, compassionate.

Giles didn't say anything, watching her carefully.

"But he's not gone," Buffy finished. She hesitated, then nodded. "I mean, he's a vampire. Why isn't he gone?"

"Well, are you sure that he's dead, and not merely weak or...?" Giles trailed off. He cocked his head to the side, looking at her.

Buffy lifted her shoulders, feeling helpless. "I'm sure. I know." There were tears in her voice with her next words, barely whispered, but she managed to contain them. "Even if I hadn't been here, I would have known..."

Giles nodded sympathetically, and Willow rushed over to her, her own tears leaking out. She embraced Buffy firmly, and Buffy allowed herself the small comfort, winding her arms around her friend gratefully. Xander stood, his eyes glittering as well, and joined them in the hug, his arms enfolding them both tightly. Buffy sniffled a little, but did not break. She wouldn't.

Couldn't.

Giles's mouth turned down sadly, watching them, his children, in that sad union of arms and hearts and pain. He saw them break away from each other, saw Buffy look down, away from them, saw her close herself off from receiving love. The deeper you loved, he knew, the deeper it hurt when you lost them.

Buffy cleared her throat, moving away from them.

"Giles? Why isn't he... Dust?"

He nodded to his books. "I don't know yet, but will find out as soon as I can," he promised.

"I'll help," came from Xander.

"Me too." Willow's voice.

Buffy heard it all distantly. As if she was there but wasn't, was a part of everything that was going on, but separated at the same time. Her limbs felt numb. Her heart, heavy. She closed her eyes and nodded, then turned back to the room.

The would understand why she needed to be with him right now.

Even if she didn't.

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