Disclaimer: If I owned Buffy and Angel they would be where they deserve.... in each others arms. They’re Joss’s, Fury’s, etc.
Rating: Light R, if there’s such thing.
Spoilers: None.
Timeline: After Sanctuary in AtS, and The Yoko Factor on BtVS
Couplings: B/A
Brief summary: Buffy reflects on her /bitch/ behaviour at LA.
Feedback: Please send it to BAalways@msn.com

As I lay down on my bed, a part of the old Buffy still wants to cry. I can feel the need to let it all out boiling but I’m afraid if I start I won’t be able to stop. So I lay here trying not to think that I’m back to a place I no longer consider home.

I can’t believe I stood there, watching his eyes slowly watering and saying the most hurtful things I could come up with. Less than a year ago I was terrified he would die, I was willing to give my life for his. As I lay there, beneath him, I accepted my death. Today I would die to just feel love in his arms one last time. It’s hard to believe the Buffy that said those vile words to him is the same that almost two years ago was living in shreds because she had killed him, sent him to Hell; the one that wanted to die if that meant saving him; the one that finally died when he walked away from the smoke. God, I want to scream.

He hit me. It still hurts. He pretended to be Angelus and kissed her, in front of me. She betrayed us. She poisoned him. He almost died. She switched bodies with me, held my mom, and screwed my boyfriend (that didn’t even realized it wasn’t me)... God knows what else, and he defended her. The cold part of me rejoiced in his pain. I liked seeing him flinch, adverting his eyes so I wouldn’t see his pain. I didn’t need to. I still feel it, as if it was my own. Bastard. I hated him. In that moment I hated him for so many things. I hated him for choosing her. I hated him for not loving me as much as he did. I hated him for not being my old Angel and held me while I wept. I hated him for not coming back. I hated him for all the minutes of the day I still feel like I’m dying inside without him. I hated him for leaving.

I wish I hated him. I don’t. I still love him as much as I did a year ago. I still dream about him. That’s the best part of the day, the easiest one. I dreamed that he whispers in my ear or shouts in the middle of the street “I love you”. I dream of falling asleep in his arms knowing he will be there in the morning. I always wake up with a smile. In the next second, my world shatters as I realize he’s gone, he’s been gone for a year and he’s not coming back. All day long I keep trying to hold on to the hope that invaded me when I opened my eyes in the morning. I never can. It’s all gone. There’s’ nothing good left inside of me.

Except my love for him.

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