Nearly forty-five minutes had passed since Buffy turned the light out and laid down in bed. On the floor beside her bed, Angel lay awake. It wasn't bedtime for him, so he stared at the ceiling, lulled only by the sound of Buffy's breathing. Slow and effortless, it sounded like sweet music to Angel's ears.

With Buffy asleep, at least he was pretty sure she was asleep, he sat up. He turned his head to the right to look at his sleeping hostess. The blankets lay around her waist, leaving her arms bare. The night was chilly, though it didn't bother Angel. Thinking that perhaps Buffy might be cold, he stood up and covered her arms. As he pulled the blankets to her shoulders in a effort to keep her warm, he caressed those arms. He was correct, they were cold.

Angel stared at her face, so serene and peaceful in its state of slumber. It occurred to him that she had no idea of the danger that lurked nearby; closer than she could ever imagine. He resisted the urge to kiss her. Holding back with as much restraint as he could muster, Angel stroked her blonde hair. She groaned softly, and he feared she would wake up and see him standing there. But she returned to sleep without ever opening her eyes.

Sighing, Angel continued stroking her hair. He leaned over to smell, inhaling the sweet scent. It smelled like a garden of lilacs, just as fragrant as he imagined it would. He found himself lost within himself, back to a place he had long-forgotten, with a charming lady who had long been dead.

He watched her for what seemed like hours. The artist within him wished he had paper and a pencil with him. Capturing Buffy's peaceful beauty while she slept would make a perfect drawing to add to his collection. He didn't consider himself a great artist, not by far, but he had talent enough to draw the beautiful and make it look even more rare and precious.Throughout his life, Angel had spent much of his free time drawing. His favorite portraits were of unsuspecting people sleeping. The pictures seemed to capture them at their most vulnerable. That was how Angel used to operate as well.

He had been searching, waiting for the perfect time to tell Buffy. Knowing how she would react kept him from divulging his secret. Not that he minded too much. Her reaction wouldn't come as a shock to him. He was ready for the outcome. Ever since the first time he'd seen her - on the steps of Hemery High in 1996 - he thought of nothing but her, day and night. Buffy Summers consumed his head, his thoughts, and most importantly, his heart.

Angel loved her. There was no doubt in his mind. Never in his long life had he felt such strong feelings for a woman. Usually, his track record consisted of meeting, eating and dumping. He swore to himself that wouldn't happen this time around. With Buffy, he would love her eternally.He was going to tell her, no matter what the consequences. Even if it meant loving her with his last fleeting thought, he had to tell Buffy. When the time was right.

The End

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