Disclaimer: Hmm, wonder who owns them sure isn't me!
Distribution: You actually want this?! Be my guest, it's yours. Just tell me where it's going please.
Summary: Buffy finds closure at the end of S3.
Spoilers: I'd say the whole B/A canon up to season 3 is fair game. It's a tad angsty, so beware.
Pairings: B/A
Rating: PGish I guess, I'm really not good at these.
Dedication: Okay, well Doc, I think you were expecting you're delayed birthday fic to be just a bit fluffier, but well when I went to type my original story, this just happened. So, well here you go, Happy belated Birthday! < g > (I think this rid me of my writer's block though!)
Feedback: Um, well I'm really not sure about this fic and am pretty hesitant on sending it, so please feedback, let me know what you thought of it!

// I couldn't see your leaving coming; it took me by surprise,
Even now still seems like a dream, but I know I can't be dreaming,
Cause as I lay down each night, the pains so great that it won't let me sleep //

The summer's sun shone through the large open window, radiating heat and light. Giving off a cheerful iridescent feeling, animating the pictures that hung on walls or were perched on tops of various surfaces. Each picture contained at least one or more smiling faces.

Vigilantly reaching out, she skimmed her fingers over the frame, finally grasping it in her hand and bringing it to rest on her lap. The picture had been taken a few nights before her prom- before her life collapsed on her.

**You deserve more. You deserve something outside of demons and darkness. You should be with someone who can take you into the light. Someone who can make love to you.**

She traced his chiseled body, his defined jaw line, and his perfect lips. They were sitting on her front steps; Buffy perched neatly in his lap, surrounded by Angel's strong arms. Life was simple then. Both people were smiling broadly in the picture, having not a care in the world, unless you took in consideration of that fact that one had a sacred duty and the other was a two-hundred-plus souled vampire.

Taking in a deep breath, Buffy was attacked by the aroma uniquely summer, if she were to break the scent apart it would include fresh cut grass, morning dew, and a floral compilation. The smell was innocent, light, and buoyant. Buffy hated it.

Flopping back onto her bed, the picture falling neatly to the floor, giving off a gentle thud. Straining her ears she listened over a lawn mower buzzing nosily outside the open window from the neighboring lawn, she could her the sounds of children playing, laughter, neighbors socializing, and general merriment. A feeling that was lost on Buffy.

A blonde head poked its way inside her room; Buffy shut her eyes, hoping her mother would leave. Buffy knew her mother was worried, she poked her head into the room occasionally, but Buffy would find some way to avoid her, not ready to talk just yet. The other night she heard her mother on the phone, with who, she wasn't sure. Joyce had been talking about Buffy's strange behavior, even questioned if she should be concerned of suicide attempts.

Buffy felt bad, she really did. She had not meant to burden her mother so but she couldn't muster up the strength to tell her mother she was fine, that s he would be okay, that all she needed was some time. For the simple truth was, she didn't know if she was fine, she really didn't know if she'd ever be fine. Angel was, a very special part of her- her first love. When he left, he took a part of her.

**I think horrible is still coming. Right now, it's worse. Right now, I'm just trying to keep from dying. **

She had to wonder what was he doing? Had he moved on? Was he feeling the same pain as she? Did he even love her? He was the one who had called their love a freak show. A freak show. That comment cut below the belt, hearing those words was like a dagger cutting through her gut, felt as if someone was squeezing the life from her, stung Buffy more then she'd like to admit.

Had all their precious times really mean nothing more than some circus act? No, she knew it was more. She could see the hurt, the pain in his eyes as he let the words roll off from his tongue.

Lately she began to wonder if her life would have been better had he never entered it. It would be easier that was for sure, she would never had to have experienced this gut wrenching agony. She would not have spent so many summer nights lying awake in her bed, wishing he were with her, wishing she did not feel this pain. She would not have wasted so many tears over the man she loved.

Had he not come in to her life, she would never have to choose between sending the man you love to hell or saving the world. She wouldn't have to feel so guilty for loving her mortal enemy, the creature she was trained to kill. She would not have to spent months trying to convince herself that she did not still love him, that they could in fact just be friends. She wouldn't have to worry what her friends would say when she told them the man she loved, the man who killed Jenny Calendar, the man who tortured them for months, was back. She wouldn't have had to face their looks of shame. She wouldn't have had to face the monster that wore her lovers face, not knowing if she'd truly be able to kill.

Yet at the same time, she would not know what it felt like to be loved. She wouldn't know what it was like to love someone so much it hurt. She wouldn't even begin to fantasize about the possibility of being more then willing to sacrifice your own life, just so your lover would not have to face an ounce of pain. She would not have experienced that natural high of thinking of your loved one, she wouldn't have felt that spark of electricity that ran through her spine, that made her body hum at a simple touch. She wouldn't get to stare into those soul filled brown eyes, to run her finger through the brown spiked hair, or over his large body, loving the way his muscles would ripple at her touch.

It all reminded Buffy of that one quote, something about how it was better to have loved and lost, then to have never have loved at all. For, had Buffy known this was how it would end, had she known all the pain, all the tears she would cry, Buffy would have still loved Angel with all her heart and soul, she would have loved him with every fiber in her body, had she been given the chance to again.

**I'm leaving. After the Ascension, after it's finished with the Mayor and Faith. If we survive, I'll go. **

Graduation had come and gone, as promised Angel left. He hadn't even said good-bye. Or maybe in his own special way he had. Through the gray smoke and the black afternoon sky, he left. She could tell he was struggling just as she was to stay away. She could almost see his inner battle raging, trying to suppress the urge to ignore all sense of logic and claim his mate.

She wanted the same. She wanted nothing more then to run to him, throw herself in his arms and beg him not to go, she would be willing to get down on her hands and kneed and plead. She wanted to yell at him, to bang her fist into his chest and yell at him until he came to his senses. Mostly though she wanted to run to his arms and to never leave them again. To tell them they could make their relationship work.

He said they could never have children, but she didn't want children, not if they weren't Angel's. There would be no afternoon walks in the park, but sunlight was highly overrated in her opinion. They couldn't make love, but without Angel; all there would be was sex. Sex Buffy could live without. He could not give her a normal life, he said. Yet somehow Buffy figured she'd never have a normal life, no not with slaying as her job occupation.

So he left her. He was gone, somewhere off on his own. As quickly as he came into her life he disappeared. Vanished through the smoke.

** But he's right. I mean, I think, maybe in the long run, that he's right. **

As much as it pained Buffy to admit it, she knew he was right. He had done the right thing by leaving. Had he stayed he'd be holding her back. Back from her own potential. There was so much she didn't know about herself, about the world and where she could fit in. If Angel was there, she'd never venture off, she would not be able to "find herself" and grow.

Sitting up once more Buffy rubbed her tired, tear stained eyes. She knew it was time to move on, to open a new chapter in her life, to let go of the past. There was only one way Buffy knew how to do that, she needed one more night, one more night of comfort. She needed to be wrapped up with the presence of Angel; she knew just how to do that too. With a determined sigh , she slipped on a pair of jogging shoes and slipped out her bedroom window. She couldn't face her mother, not yet.

Buffy knew she looked like hell, having not showered for a couple of days, her hair thrown up in a messy ponytail, her skin was oily, and her clothes were ragged and wrinkled, but she didn't care. She didn't have the strength to care. She picked up her pace, walking the familiar steps to the large mansion on Crawford Street.

She would say good-bye to the love she once knew. She would always carry him and their memories in a special part of her heart, but it was time to move on, and she was finally ready to too.

With a renewed determination she walked into the dark musky house where she was immediately eloped with the smell of Angel, her body began to tingle, her veins hummed at the familiar sensations.

Each item in the house was a reminder of Angel, each room holding their own memories of happier times.

** It is never over! I won't let you die. Drink! **

She walked over to the leather couch, lightly tracing the scar he had left,his mark, showing everyone who she belonged to, making her way to the shattered coffee table. Finally she came to a halt in front of his bedroom, a place that used to be her safe haven, a place where the two would take short naps after a nights patrol. Slowly she crawled into the bed, warily pulling the covers over her fragile body. He smelled of aftershave, and almost what she would consider pine, all mixed in with a crisp clean smell, a smell Buffy could spends forever enjoying. She pulled the covers over her neck resting further into the pillow.

"Good-bye my Angel." Was the soft muffled sound that came out of her lips as she drifted off to sleep, a fresh batch of tears springing from her eyes, tracing the curve of her face, resting neatly on the cotton pillow.

** You still my girl? **

"Always."

// Wish I were the tin man, you could hurt me all you wanted
And I'd never even know, and I'd give anything
Just to be the tin man, and I wouldn't have a heart
And I wouldn't need a soul, I'd give anything,
Just to be the tin man, and I wouldn't have a heart,
And I wouldn't miss you so//

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