"Issues"
Author: DH Artemis
Email: dhartemis@hotmail.com
". . . and then Mom said that since things had been so quiet lately I ought to come home earlier and study, and so I'm back to sneaking in the window. Gee, it's just like old times," Buffy concluded cheerfully, though a tinge of sarcasm touched her voice as well. She tossed a broken stake she'd been playing with into the fire. Angel smiled ruefully, wondering briefly if Buffy's mother knew as little about how much time they spent together now as she had before she discovered her daughter's identity as the slayer. Even though they were no longer really a couple, he doubted Joyce would approve of all the time they spent together training or just talking.
"Still, it is getting late," he pointed out regretfully. "You should probably go soon."
"Yeah, I have a chem test tomorrow and a high probability of failing miserably. Maybe I could catch up a little before I fall asleep." Buffy stood, stretched, and reached down to grab her backpack. "Oh, wait, I almost forgot. I brought you something." She began rummaging around in her bag. "It's a surprise -- close your eyes."
She glanced down to see if he was peeking as her grasping fingers found the rare book Giles had lent her. But his eyes were open, and looked unseeing into the garden. Noticing the faraway look on his face, she stopped fumbling with her bag and focused on the tight, pained look behind his eyes. Realization slowly dawned, as she recognized the three words she had just uttered from a very different conversation they had had in this very room. Her backpack fell to the ground. "Oh. Oh, God. Angel . . . "
She shut her own eyes against the wave of pain that crashed over her as she relived the nightmare scene of Acathla's awakening for the thousandth time. She heard her own voice telling him to close his eyes, and saw the shock, confusion, and pain mingle on his face when she kissed him and ran him through with Kendra's sword. Though the memory flashed through her mind in an instant, several lifetimes seemed to pass before she could summon the courage to open her eyes and look at him again. He continued to stare blindly into the garden where their duel had taken place, his face blank of any emotion. Only the tightness visible in his shoulders and around his eyes betrayed that he, too, was lost in excruciating memories of the past.
Visibly forcing himself to return to the present, he glanced up at her and their eyes met briefly. Buffy blinked against the burning feeling of tears gathering beneath her eyelids. Aside from their brief confrontation on Christmas morning, they had never discussed anything that had happened from the night of her seventeenth birthday to the day Angel inexplicably returned from hell. Unable to hold his gaze any longer, Buffy dropped heavily to the ground in front of him and buried her head in her hands.
"God, Angel, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to say that -- I wasn't thinking." He didn't respond, and she let out a shaky breath, determined to finally apologize for everything she had done, but unable to face him as she did so. "I know we never talk about it, and I don't expect you to ever really forgive me, but I want you to know that I am sorry. And I'm sorry that I've been too much of a coward to say it before." The pain of her own betrayal was overwhelming, and hot tears leaked from her eyes as she stared at her own guilty hands. Had she been able to bring herself to look at him, she would have seen that his expression had changed to one of complete shock.
"Buffy . . . " Angel seemed at a loss for words as he knelt in front of her and gently lifted her chin so he could see her face. "You did the right thing. You saved the world. You don't need to apologize for that."
"I killed you. You had no idea what was happening, and I betrayed you. I could never apologize enough," she whispered.
Angel was silent for a moment, as if he was mentally running through all the arguments in the world and discarding each as unsatisfactory. The hand that had been resting under her chin dropped back down to his side, and his voice was low and intense. "You should have killed me. I tortured your friends and tried to end the world. I terrorized you and your family and mocked your love for me. I tried to destroy the only person I ever truly loved. I deserved to die. And it was the only way."
"Angel, that wasn't you." He shook his head slowly, knowing that no matter how many times those words were repeated he would never completely believe them.
"It's the same thing, Buffy," he interrupted hollowly, when she tried to speak again. "The same voice that taunted you, the same hands that struck you." He stared at the hands in his lap as if they were foreign to him. "Me. My fault."
"Everything Angelus did was my fault," Buffy continued as if he hadn't spoken at all. "I am just as responsible for creating that demon last year as Darla was two hundred years ago. It was my decision. My fault," she repeated softly.
"No." The force of his rebuttal startled Buffy into looking up at him, and his hand again reached out slowly to caress her face. His voice softened as he continued, "I love you, and I wanted you -- more than anything. The only reason I said we shouldn't was because I didn't want to push, or take advantage of you."
Angel stopped briefly, trying to remember everything he had wanted to tell her since he had regained his soul. The memory of Angelus leaving her crying in his apartment had haunted him for too long.
"I will never stop regretting what happened after that night, but I won't ever regret the love and trust and peace I felt in your arms. I wish more than anything that I could have still been there, holding you, when you woke up so I could tell you that. But you couldn't have known what would happen. We couldn't have known."
Fresh tears slipped down Buffy's face as Angel pulled her onto his lap and into his arms, offering her the most relief from her guilt she had felt in months. And Angel held her tightly, allowing himself the comfort of holding her and feeling the torment of his remorse ebb slightly with the knowledge that she didn't blame him for any of it, even if he blamed himself. "I love you," he whispered, his cheek resting on top of her head. "I know we can't ever . . . " his voice trailed off as he realized that tonight he didn't want to focus on what they were denied, only on what they could have. ". . . but I love you." She turned her head to speak again, but he interrupted her before she began. "And I forgive you for anything you still think was your fault," he finished quickly.
Buffy sighed softly, amazed at how well he knew her. "And I forgive you for everything Angelus did that you feel responsible for," she replied, but couldn't resist adding, " . . . even though it still wasn't you." She looked up at him and grinned, and he mirrored her wry smile. "I love you, too," she whispered softly. His hand found hers, and they leaned in for a short, tender kiss.
When they parted, Buffy handed him the ancient book she had dropped. "It's a book of Irish legends," she explained, a little shyly. "Giles thought you would like it."
"And that I could let him know which ones are myths and which he might have to worry about?" Angel questioned wryly.
"Well, he is the undefeated champion of research. I doubt he would mind that," she admitted cheerfully as she struggled to her feet. "I better go." Buffy turned back for a response, but Angel was already lost in the pages. She picked up her backpack and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "Good-bye."
He glanced up briefly, and she smiled at the question in his eyes.
"I'll come back soon."
The End