Disclaimer: Not mine, never have been, never will be. Did you honestly think I'm that evil? OK, so maybe I am, but still :P
Distribution: Want, Take, Have. But I'm still on the want part. Why would anyone want this?
Summary: About 20 years from now, after the End of Days. Angel's human.
Feedback: Would be very much loved :P And don't you just love feeling loved? :P
AN: If you wanna check the colors(just in case you don't know), check your 96 color Crayola crayons set :P And I am not dead, I am just in the middle of midterms, they will be over on Friday(I think I will feel very much like saying TGI Friday :P), and I will send out some short fics, and I will try to write some more of Talking and STNC. And thanx bunches to Daze(who always makes me feel good enough to send these) and everybody who ever feedbacked me :P

I don't know when I started, but somehow, I grew to love taking walks in the morning. Well, more like the crack of dawn, before the sun rises. When I was younger, I used to run. But these days I walk. It's not that I can't run. I maybe quite a bit over 40, but I still have some Slayer strength and stamina left in me. Not quite at its peak, but it's there. It's just. running is about you. It's your heart that's pounding, it's your breath that's rough, and it's the sound of your feet falling rhythmically on the ground. It's your exhilaration at exerting your body to the limit. But walking is about the stuff around you. The man you meet everyday because he jogs at that early hour as well. You smile and nod in greeting, he does the same. The quiet, normal houses holding happy families still sound in their beds. The smell of the trees, the cool morning air, the sound of nature waking up far before humans. The shade of the sky changing slowly from midnight blue, to navy blue, then a deep cerulean, a beautiful light sky blue, than an almost white-ish periwinkle. And watching the rising sun, in all its yellow, orange, and red glory. It's quiet and peaceful. I used to hate being alone, and I never really loved peace and quiet, but I guess I'm getting old. I enjoy quiet solitude and reflection now.

Walking also gives you time to think. Running is about your body, walking is about your mind. I usually like to listen to music as I walk, too. None of the loud techno noise kids call music these days(and I sound exactly like my mom.) but soft, quiet oldies. Like Sarah McLachlan and Secret Garden and stuff. It's not really the words, it's about the music itself. I don't know when I became such a music fan.

I think about many things, but mostly, it's memories. I'm not *that* old, but my grandmother always said that youth lives on dreams, and old age on memories. I think it's true. I think of my family, my friends, my old Slayer days when life seemed so simple. The typical day of my sixteen year old life was sleep in class, hang with my friends at the Bronze, patrol with Angel, with some smoochies in between, then go to sleep late, and start all over again. I didn't have to think much, and everything was so simple. There were the good guys and the bad guys, and all I had to do was fight. I look up at the sky and sigh. It's cerulean now. 5 minutes ago, it was a dark, navy blue-y color. Sometimes it seems like time is passing by as the speed of light, and I feel so powerless to stop it.

There are a lot of things I regret. I think about it more these days. And the biggest thing that stands out in my mind is, of course, Angel. I meet him occasionally on my early morning walks. We stop and stare at each other for a while, but we usually just finish with a nod. Then we continue out separate ways. We always want to talk, that's why we always stop. But we never do. It's been almost 10 years since that End of Days crap, when Angel turned human. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to jump him right then and there. But I was whisked away by Willow, Xander, Spike, and Dawn, while Cordelia, Wesley, and Gunn fussed over Angel. And after that neither of us called the other. Too scared, maybe.

There he is. He looks as beautiful as ever. The years have been kind to him. He's walking too. Sometimes he runs, sometimes he jogs, and sometimes he walks. All depending on his mood. Despite the fact that we've been apart for over 20 years, I can still read him like a book. Today he's thinking of old times, old memories. He sees me and stops. I take a few more steps to get closer to him and stop also. He searches my face for several long moments, with something akin to hope in his eyes, but he shuts it away quickly. He nods and looks away. I've always let him leave that, but somehow today. I can't.

"Angel." He stops, startled. I'm startled myself. I can't believe I just did that. He looks at me with that penetrating gaze that has never changed and probably will never change. I decide that since I've already done one stupid thing, I should continue. "This is stupid." In so very many more ways than one. He still doesn't say anything. "We've known each other for over 20 years, don't you think we should be able to talk to each other?" I don't know where this kind of blind courage is coming from, and now I'm babbling inside my head. God, why does he always have this effect on me?

"But I don't want to." His reply is so soft I almost don't hear it, but I do, and my heart sinks. "If we talk, I'll want more, and it'll hurt for me, it'll be annoying for you, and. It's better this way. Watching can't hurt you. Or your husband." He continues quietly, never taking his eyes off me. Under such circumstances, when I'm having trouble concentrating on anything but his eyes, it takes me a while to process what he just said. "My WHAT?" In the early morning quiet, my cry seems much louder than it should. He looks at me, confused. "Did you just say my husband?" I ask, a trifle softer than before. He nods mutely. "Where in God's name did you hear I was married?" I demand. "I." He's floundering helplessly, a new look for Angel. "Cordelia said." Oh, I am so going to kill Cordelia. "I am not, and have never been, married." My heart is back in its normal place by now. The look in his eyes does mean he still cares for me, right? Please say it does. It does? Good, it does.

Angel looks awkward, as if he doesn't know what to say now. Finally, he takes a deep breath. "Um. do you, um. you wanna do dinner? Sometime. If you want." I have a strange feeling of déjà vu, but I can't quite place it. I don't care. Angel just asked me out to dinner. "Sure." I reply hurriedly, afraid he'll change his mind. He smiles softly. "Great. I'll call you. Sometime." I nod and he continues on his way with a smile. I continue on mine with a piano on my face. I pick up pace and pretty soon I'm running. When I get home, Nicky, Dawn's husband, greets me, surprised. "Is something wrong?" I pant and laugh. "No, I was just thinking of taking up running again."

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