"It may not always be so, and I say that if your lips,
Which I have loved, should touch another's,
And your dear strong fingers clutch his heart,
As mine in time not far away;
If on another's face your sweet hair lay
In such a silence as I know,
Or such great writhing words, as uttering overmuch,
Stand helplessly before the spririt at bay.
If this should be, I say, if this should be--
You of my heart, send me a little word,
That I may go unto him, and take his hands, saying,
Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall I turn my face,
And hear one bird sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
- e.e. cummings, "It May Not Always Be So"
"Hi." The words were accompanied by a abrupt wave and an extended hand. "You must be Angel."
"Yeah." The darker man's intense gaze never wavered.
"I'm Riley."
"Would never have guessed." The expression matched the caustic voice.
"You know, that's alright. I shouldn't have come. I'll just-" he began, backing away.
"No," Angel interrupted, "don't go. I'm...I'm sorry. That was rude." It cost him much to say the words, and the other man could see it.
"Don't be sorry. You're twice the man I am for even coming to meet me." He smiled briefly before pulling out the chair opposite and sitting down. A silence settled over the table. The noises of the restaurant went on around them, leaving their little sphere untouched. Riley cleared his throat. His fingers traced the grain of wood in the table. Someplace nearby, a clock ticked.
"Why did you ask me here?" The vampire's voice was pained, and looking up, Riley saw the emotions that he tried so hard to keep hidden spill from his eyes.
"I wanted to know... why. Buffy and I talked before about your relationship with her. I mean, she's told me everything that happened between the two of you. I just didn't get why you left her. You...," he paused, rubbed his eyes, "You broke her heart in a way I won't ever be able to mend."
Angel looked down at his hands and back up, quickly. Riley suddenly grew wary. The vampire's voice was deep, gravelly when he spoke.
"Did she tell you how she got that scar on her neck?"
Opaque obsidian stared into translucent blue. The soldier blinked first.
"She got it fighting. She said a Master got too close one time. That Xander revived her."
The vampire made a gutteral noise, neither in confirmation nor denial.
"What? What are you saying?" His mind refused to acknowledge the idea that niggled and wormed its way to the forefront.
"What would you do if I told you that I gave her that scar? That I drained her to the point of death and was barely able to save her? That I had to take her to the hospital, knowing that I could've just killed the only person I've ever truly loved?"
It was Riley's turn to be silent.
"I loved her, more than you could ever comprehend, boy. I still do. She is the reason that I keep myself alive. She is the reason that I get up every night and try to do something good. And I almost killed her. Why do you think I left?"
Riley looked down at the table, at his hands that were tightly clenched together, fingers working against the skin. He tried not to let go. Letting go meant losing control, and that wasn't an option. Letting go meant jumping over the heavy wooden restaurant table and pummeling the man in front of him to a bloody pulp. And yet... and yet, a small, unwilling part of him understood. Not on any level that he wanted to acknowledge, but it was there. And it was that small part that kept him in his seat.
Angel watched the boy in front of him with detached interest. He knew from the way his muscles periodically tensed that he wanted, more than anything, to launch himself over the table. He didn't, though, and the restraint surprised the vampire. Not much surprised him anymore, and his estimation of the boy rose a small amount. Perhaps he wasn't as much of a boy as Angel had first surmised.
"I..." Riley stopped. He cleared his throat and clenched his hands harder. "I need to ask you if you'll ever be back. I'm going to ask her to marry me, and I need to be sure that you won't ruin it." His eyes met Angel's squarely. "You're not welcome in our life."
No, this soldier wasn't a boy anymore. Enough experience marked his face, etching lines across his forehead, down his cheeks, around his mouth. Angel looked at him calmly. His voice was cold and detached as he answered, and all traces of the passion that had been there just moments before had gone.
"I know I'm not welcome in your life, and I never will be in hers. Try to understand, though, that she will never completely let me go. She will wake up in the middle of the night, and sometimes, on the bad nights, it will be my name that she calls out. It won't be yours. Can you understand that? Accept it?"
The black obsidian was back, and the light seemed to drown itself in it. His eyes seemed to Riley to have no shine at all. No soul. Riley's voice shook the slightest bit as he answered, "I accepted it the last ten times it happened."
He moved his chair back and stood up. His shoulders slumped a little bit, and Angel saw new lines appear around his eyes.
"Thank you," he murmured, and moved slowly away from the table. A part of the older vampire felt bad for him, and for his disillusionment. The other part... the other part was filled with an unholy glee, and Angel's demon danced within him at the emotional turmoil that he had caused.
The End