DISCLAIMER- I don't own anything.
SPOILERS- The Gift, among others.
RATING- NC-13
THEME- Angsty. Tissue Worthy Angsty.
FEEDBACK- I'd deeply appreciate it :o)
AUTHOR'S NOTES-

'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do:
Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?
Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile?
I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine?
To outface me with leaping in her grave?
Be buried quick with her, and so will I:
And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
I'll rant as well as thou.'
- Hamlet, Act V, Scene I.
Angst Warning: If you've got a hanky, you might want to keep it handy. I want to make you cry.
PLOT- Angel's POV. This is my obligatory fic about Buffy's death, where Angel mourns her passing.

I'm not really here. At least, I don't think I am. I haven't the energy to get out of my bed these days, let alone drive all the way to Sunnydale over a mere whim to see her grave. Does that sound selfish of me? Would you expect more from the man who once gave up mortality to protect his lover? Would it then surprise you to know that I haven't left my room in a month? Yes, I believe it would.

But this is where I am, nevertheless. I'm wandering aimlessly through the cemetery, searching for her grave. This was an impulse on my part. I was in such a rush to come here that I picked up the first crumpled clothes I could find on my bedroom floor- I'm even walking barefoot, which no doubt adds to the tragic appearance of a desperate man that I've created for myself. I have two bulging, manic eyes which scour the rows upon rows of gravestones in a futile attempt to locate her. This dead-man's home is saturated with her presence, I can feel myself become drenched with her aura with every step I take deeper into the cemetery.

The clouds in the blackened, aggressive sky spit on me, flogging me for the heartless lover that I am. I loved Buffy- I left her to give her a life! I was her millstone, I would have dragged her down to my level if I'd have stayed! I did everything, *everything*, for her, so why do I feel that my decision to leave directly led to her wretched death? I feel responsible, and nothing I'll see on this pilgrimage will convince me otherwise.

My thoughts are so fragmented that when I finally piece them back together I have already found her grave. Her name is the only thing that I'm drawn to, and it evokes such a reaction from the pit of my heart that I feel myself implode. My voice cracks in seven different places as I shout her name in perfect anguish. I attack the sky with my fists.

"This isn't over!" I holler at the Powers That Fuckin' Be, "It's NEVER over! You can't take my very soul away and not expect me to seek revenge for her!"

My threats having fallen on deaf ears and because I have used up the remains of what energy I had left, I slump to the floor in exhaustion. It's too late for words. It's too late for everything.

I cry. It's not the first time I've cried since her death, but seeing her grave has made it all feel like new news again. Images of our lost love flash through my mind in a prolonged cinematic -ice skating, fighting, reuniting, our one last day- but this only makes me sob harder. As time passes, my tears trail off into deep oxygen filled gulps of air, and, finally, I come to a halt.

I dry my wet eyelids with my arm. I stare at my hands, trivially wondering if my veins had always protruded in such a way, or whether they started doing that recently.

I summon the strength to crawl across my lovers resting bed to touch the granite gravestone. It feels rough against my skin, and by rhythmically rubbing my hand across it I draw blood. Realising my insanity, I pull myself back in horror.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper into the ground, ashamed with myself, "my head- it's all mixed up"

I stroke the grass tenderly. My head is almost lying on it. I can't understand how her body is deeply buried underneath me, where I can't reach her and she can't reach out. I can't understand how this is forever. Her grave is not transient, she will not return. Moreover, I can't understand how she is not in her body. Her resting place is here, but she's not. Not really. Her soul isn't grounded, and far be it for me to wish her such an eternal torment. But I do feel her presence, I can't hide from that truth. She has marked this place, whether she remains here or not. I sincerely pray that this place has not marked her.

I'm so tired. My desire for my bed overwhelms me- I suddenly long to be back in the comfort of my warm sheets, closed windows, locked door, with no lights to disturb me. Tired is all I feel now, as if my spirit has died like my lover has. It's surprised me that I came to visit her on this night, for I haven't left the hotel for many, many weeks.

I've given up fighting the enemy, given up helping the goddamn helpless. My lethargy has risen to new heights, and my friends have indulged me on my grief for so long that they've stopped telling me about Cordy's visions and about the demons which are causing havoc down town. They tell me about the people they save, but never about the ones they don't. Just a few hushed words about being too late to help them. Too late. They go out and fight their battles, then return to the hotel and give me sympathy. They haven't given up on me yet, which sincerely surprises me. They gave up on me last time. But then, I wasn't grieving for Buffy last time. I think they understand how much of a gap she has left in my life, so they're patiently giving me time to mend and recover.

They don't understand that I'm never *going* to recover.

I brace myself to leave. As I take one last look at Buffy's grave, I have a sudden, fiery desire to place a token of my love on it, to let her know. I came. But naturally, I'd even fuck a simple thing like this up and bring nothing at all.

"You brought yourself, though, and that means more."

I freeze.

Truly, nothing could have prepared me for hearing my beloved's voice again. It was so clear, so concise, so elegant...everything that had once made her voice music to my ears had returned in full force.

I feel my face grapple to determine the meaning of what I'd heard. It wrinkles up in confusion as I turn around to face the voice. With a mixture of trepidation and ecstasy, I raise my heavy eyes to hers.

It's Buffy.

It's my Goddess!

My stomach suddenly tightens and I stumble backwards, as if I've been hit by a battering ram. I open my mouth to speak, but can only verbalise gurgles.

It's my Buffy, standing not two feet away from me, clothed serenely in a simple white dress and brown sandals. Her poker straight blond hair falls sharply down her back.

"You're dead!" I manage to stutter, unaware of the flippant tone of my voice. But I don't care. All I know is that my lover has returned to me, and with her returns my hope. I feel elated, replenished. This vision has breathed life back into my soul, and I know now more than ever that I can't live on this earth without her, and that if this apparition leaves me, I'm going to leave with it. Even if it leads me into hell.

My darling simply smiles at me and nods.

"I know" she says, "and I am."

She lifts out her hand and beckons to me.

I grin and begin to advance towards her, almost like a predator in my ascent. I'm a haggard, rain-soaked heap, whereas her white dress accentuates her glowing beauty. The vampire in me wonders if dawn is approaching, but the man in me doesn't dare to lift my head to the sky to check, for I daren't look away from my Buffy's face in case she disappears before I look back again.

I've reached her now. She seems to be a physical manifestation, but it takes me some time to reach for her hand to find out. I don't want to grab air. I don't want this image to be broken.

But despite her being dead, a ghost, the Buffy in front of me is definitely flesh and blood. My skin touches her skin. My hand holds her hand.

"I must be dreaming" I murmur, and lift my pupils from our interlocked hands to her large, blue eyes. She's already looking at me, and as we hold each other's gaze, we read each other's minds through our eyes. Her eyes show an ever burning innocence, whereas I know she sees something altogether more sinister in mine, for they upset her enough to blink and turn her head away, breaking the connection.

I sigh, and turn my attention back to our hands. She follows my gaze as I unclench them and softly stroke the palm of her hand with my tip of my finger. As I become more daring, I trace my finger up her arm and to her neck, where I unsuccessfully attempt to check for a pulse. I touch a strand of her strawberry hair, following it from root to tip. I close my eyes. My mouth is set in suffering, and I let myself cry wet tears.

She gently casts her arms around my waist and draws me to her. She kisses my hair and sighs my name.

*Angel*

As I possessively clutch her with both hands, it feels natural to glide my mouth along her shoulder blade, across her neck and up to her face, where I kiss her full on the lips. A quick, comforting peck quickly turns into a more passionate one, much like it did when we were underneath that oak tree half a year ago. She responds, letting our diverging passions embrace in this one expression of love. I'm still crying - do I ever stop? - but why the hell do tears matter when I'm in the arms of my one true love, and when her tongue is caressing mine?

Neither of us have a biological need to breathe now, but we break apart to gulp down air anyway. A few moments of peaceful silence pass up by in the interim, and Buffy softly puts a finger to her wet lips, which are still tingling from my kiss.

"You see?" she whispers, placing the same finger on mine, "Now we're both cold."

And we embrace once more. As the emotion behind the act strengthens, and as we become entangled in each other's arms, we both fall to the ground in ecstasy.

I fall to the ground alone.

I moan and look up with questioning eyes. She's standing beside me. Her hair is still poker straight and her dress is uncreased. There are no signs on her to reveal our indiscretion, and I idly wonder if there are rules against that kind of thing in heaven. But although her clothes give nothing away, her face is a sea of despair. For a brief moment, our eyes collide, and I immediately realise what is wrong. It's us, our reunion. It's making her unhappy.

"It's not that" she tells me, without my saying a word.

"What is it, then?" I ask, extremely concerned. I outstretch my hand and wait for Buffy to pull me up, falling back into the old ways from when we once dated. But to my surprise she doesn't, I don't know why, and it pains me. I sigh and clumsily scramble to my feet.

She steps away from me and leans on a gravestone.

"I'm very happy, but I'm also very sad" she sighs with her voice full of tragic undertones.

Before I can ask her to tell me more, she shakes her head to indicate that she doesn't want to. Her attempt at changing the subject is like jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

"I've been waiting for you. I didn't realise it'd take so long for you to pay respects to your dead ex-girlfriend" her words were played for light reprimand rather than accusation, but they chill me nevertheless.

I don't know what to say. I want to give her my reason, that I hadn't the energy to leave my room, come here and confront a tombstone, but I feel ashamed and embarrassed.

"I wanted to, but...my depression...it was too hard"

"I think I understand. Grief takes different forms for different people."

I think about Cordelia, who had tried to coax me out of bed only this morning, to receive a very definitive cold shoulder. I remember turning on my side to face the wall, wrapping my bed covers around me and staring blankly at it as thoughts of *her* haunted my thoughts.

Sometimes I don't even turn over.

"I've become tired." I say, "I can't explain why. I just have"

She stares at me and absorbs my ragged appearance.

"You look it" she notes.

I uncomfortably shift from foot to foot. Should I say something about her?

"Well...you look...healthy"

I can't believe that's the best I can do. How about 'beautiful'? 'like a goddess'? Even 'good' would have been an upgrade from 'healthy'. But health I said, and health I'll have to live by.

Unfortunately, I seem to have struck a nerve.

"That's ironic. In reality, I'm a decaying corpse" she sourly replies, gazing blankly across the cemetery.

Although it's her saying this, it upsets me to hear tell of my lover in such crude terms.

"Don't say that!" I exclaim. "You're not a corpse, you're Buffy! Always Buffy-"

The anger within me rises and distorts itself into something else entirely. I suddenly feel hatred for her, for leaving this hole in my life, for ruining everything I had planned, had hoped for. We were meant to have a happy ending, and now that was never to be.

Without enough words in the universe to use against her, I push her aside and storm away. Naturally surprised by my irrational and sudden departure, she follows.

"Angel!"

I ignore her.

"Angel!"

I turn around. Her white clothes make her look like a human angel. Her face is pierced with frustration.

"You're blaming me for dying?!" she growls, "Gee, sorry, but I didn't have much choice!"

"No, you're wrong. I'm blaming you for leaving me behind! Don't you know how hard it is to live in this world without you? God, god I want to die!"

I stick my finger in my chest, then I point at her grave.

"...that should be *me* in the ground, with the grass growing over *me* and pushing *me* further and further into the earth and away from the world... I can't sleep, Buffy! Christ, I can't even think without seeing your face. It hurts so much, I can't go on without you!"

"So that's it, then?" she sarcastically replies, "I've spent my eternal slumbers begging the PTB to let me come here to visit you, and you waste our special time together in some depressive suicidal rant?!"

"Aren't I entitled to that?"

"No! You're not! You know what? Go home. Go back to your bed, lie in it and waste your immortality by never getting back out. Hide away and brood like you always do. Leave your friends to their own devices, let them fight your fight, let them *die* trying to help someone because you're so self destructive and...and selfish... that you won't even try to survive in a world without me. Fuck it. Fuck them, fuck your agency, and fuck your shanshu!"

I lower my head in despair.

"My shanshu is worthless now." I explain in pathetic tones, "I might as well be dead. It only meant something when I thought I would share it with you."

"And when was that going to happen?" she replies, lowering her voice, "Ten years from now? One hundred years from now? You don't know! God, I didn't even know about it! If I did, I might have done things differently, I might have-"

She stops to take a deep look at me. Her attempt to shock me out of my depression hasn't worked. She immediately softens at my distress and continues to talk, but using kinder, gentler words.

"But that's not the point, is it? My point is, things never work out how we expect them to, and we just have to roll with whatever's thrown at us. We have to be realistic. I'm dead. You're not. You have a shanshu to look forward to, and although it'll be without me, it'll still be everything you could desire."

Her voice shakes, it is full of regret. And suddenly, I know that she wanted to share this with me as much as I did.

Missed opportunities. Mistakes to haunt me for the rest of my life.

She runs up to me, grabs my head and forces me to look at her.

"Listen, honey! Our time is not now, but that doesn't mean it's not going to come. I'm here, and I'm waiting for you, but we'll only be reunited when the time is right. When we're ready. Don't you understand that? Fight for the cause, shanshu, live your life and die. It's the *only* way"

My voice has completely broken, and my nose and cheeks are red.

"But it's so hard..."

Deep inside, Buffy knows that reasoning isn't going to work, that I'm only going to look at the facts- she's gone, and I'm still here.

Still holding my head, she glances at the sky, then back to me. Her eyes cloud- so much so that I can no longer read her thoughts- and all I know is that she is experiencing some sort of inner turmoil of her own. But then her eyes clear again, and I know she's settled things in her mind.

She smiles thinly.

"It's nearly sunrise"

She leans in and kisses me. It's different this time, it makes me feel cold inside, perhaps because I know that this one is our last on mortal ground. As we indulge in our one final moment of heaven, she reaches for my hands and holds them in her own.

And then she pulls her face away from mine, and her eyes dullen.

Her grip on my hands tighten. I'm so numb that I don't realise it at first, not until the pain kicks in. I can only stare at her in horror as she squeezes my hands further still. It truly hurts, and I'm already so weak that my knees buckle with the added pain. I don't have the strength to pull away. Her face is frozen, she watches me as she tortures me, just two eyes staring into mine.

Her vice like grip strengthens as I plead with her to let go, and ask her why, why she is doing this. I try to explain that I can't take the pain, but she laughs my words away. After all, she says, I'm a Vampire. I have a higher pain threshold than the average man. But she forgets that she's a Slayer, and it is only a slayer who can make a vampire gasp in pain.

But Buffy doesn't listen to my cries. Her mind is set on something else.

"I think you're right about us" she tells me, "we must be together. Now. We can't be apart any longer"

I blink, unable to comprehend her meaning.

"Do you truly want to die?" she asks.

I nod my head, then shake it. Yes-no-yes-I don't know, why?

"You want to commit suicide? Leave all your depression and pain behind you?"

I don't know!

She points at the sky, and my tear-stained eyes follow as fingers of sunlight begin to creep across it like forks in a road. Through my hazy mind, I manage to piece together what's happening to me. I'm knee deep in earth and any second now, the cemetery will be filled with sunlight, and I will be dust.

She's trying to kill me.

"I'm not leaving without you. Not again" she whispers. Her hair is caught in a strong breeze, and it billows around us like extra arms that are lashing at me.

I grapple with her, trying to escape her grip, but to no avail.

"Don't do this" I beg her, "Not like this. I didn't mean like *this*!"

The sun has bathed half the cemetery in light, and the shadows around me are beginning to disperse. There's not much time left.

My hands are still securely held by my lover. I can't move.

"No? I thought you wanted us together!" she shouts out, her words are aimed more at the sky than at me.

The light approaches us.

"Of course I do! I love you more than life itself, but if I don't seek redemption before I die, I'll be thrown back into hell as soon as I turn into dust, and then I'll never be able to reunite with you! I'm supposed to be helping people, I'm Angel, I fight evil, it's who I am!"

And suddenly I realise, it truly is who I am. I have a reason to stay on this earth, and I can't leave until I'm ready. Until it's time. The advice Buffy first gave me was right. We will be together...but only when it's our time.

And that time is not now.

Buffy holds me from behind and rests her head on my shoulder as we watch the ever approaching light fill the cemetery. Her resilient eyes catch on the rising sun with glee.

"Me and you forever, lover."

Inside my mind, I scream- my epiphany has come too late.

And at the last possible second, as the sunlight barely touches my feet, she pushes me across the cemetery into a mausoleum with the strength of twenty slayers- so much so that I break through the door and hit my back against the stony wall.

I groan, and slowly pull myself up. I stagger to the doorway and squint out into the cemetery, which has now completely been doused in sunlight.

And I see her. She's far away from me, standing solemnly at the foot of her grave. She turns to face me, blows a kiss, and then departs, gradually fading into air. As I watch her shimmery figure disappear, I hear her parting voice.

"Live your life, Angel. Live it, for me. And when you're done, I'll be waiting for you. Our time will come. Always, my love."

I smile, but do not move. I wince at the pain that is shooting through my body, and my hands are kind of limp. But those scars will heal, and I now know that the scars inside me will heal too. Given time.

"Always" I whisper to my girl, knowing that she hears me.

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