Disclaimer: This story is B/A, it's ignoring C/A and B/S - so do you even have to ask?
Pairing: B/A - baby, did I ever write anything else?
Category: Angst, Romance, Future
Rating: PG
Distribution: my site (http://www.never-ending-love.de), ffnet, several lists including BA_Fluff, if you have any of my stuff, just take it, anybody else please tell me where it goes
Spoilers: everything up to "The Gift" and "No Place Like …"
Summary: Buffy tries to move on with her life.
Timeline: years into the future
Feedback: oh yes, please!!! send it to Connemara.Scarlets@t-online.de
Dedication: For Ally - because her comment at the babbleboard gave me the inspiration, and to Tango because she wrote the fic that initiated the comment - and because she's simply an awesome writer.
Note: My humblest thanks to everyone who sent feedback or left a review at the babbleboard. And I agree, "On My Grave" would work nicely on its own, but I just couldn't help it. Enjoy.

Me - and me alone.

I didn't want this to be a public place where people would stop at a grave and wonder what kind of fancy person called himself Angel. Besides - all the people who ever cared about him knew anyway.

The sun is up already, but tonight I didn't feel like going home. I came here around midnight and stayed. My visits here became less frequent after some time, and when I turned twenty-five, I decided that once a week was enough. My friends already thought I was a basket case, and there is no need to give them more ammunition. Willow is always trying to set me up with some guy. At one point she even tried a girl - to my utter horror - but nothing came of it. Xander tried next, then Dawn, but after years of gaining nothing they stopped.

It wasn't that none of them were nice. Some of them were, two or three even stayed for a while, but somehow it didn't happen. And I was past the point where second best was still good enough.

So I was still single and according to my friends lonely, when I entered the supermarket on the corner that one afternoon and bumped right into him. After silently cursing - I can't remember if over his or my own stupidity - I looked up (way, way up) and into the bluest pair of eyes I'd ever seen. For a split second I was reminded of Riley, but the idea vanished instantly. Riley's eyes never were that brilliant blue. He never was that blond. But he was equally tall.

I wondered why someone as short as I always fell for the tall ones, before the sweetest of smiles turned up his lips and a sparkle entered those blue eyes that left me momentarily breathless. "Hey, you okay?" He asked, reaching out to steady me. "I'd say I was sorry to have bumped into you, but that'd be a lie." There was a slightly southern accent to his voice and I wondered if he might be from Mississippi. I went there once with my dad when I was still young and this guy sounded a little like the people there had.

"Huh - what?" I wanted the earth to swallow me whole, so embarrassed was I because of my stuttering. Really great move, Buffy. Now the guy probably thinks you're demented. "I mean - I'm fine. It was my fault anyway."

"You new here?" He wanted to know. "I've never seen you before?"

It should have initiated a groan from me, I don't know how often I heard that kind of opening, but it didn't. Instead I felt my mouth go dry at that smile, felt my heart doing a funny little flip-flop. "No," I shook my head, "Lived here for almost ten years." What I didn't tell him was that I did most of my shopping at night. It was a good way to keep an eye on the shop owners. You wouldn't believe how many vamps try to find their food in all-night shops.

"I know this might sound weird to you," he started then, "Seeing that we've just met - well, kind of, but … how about a cup of coffee?"

To make a long story short, we went for that cup of coffee. I forgot about purchasing grocery, and had to face Dawn's wrath when she came in the evening for her vacation from college, and there was no chocolate in the fridge. But the afternoon was the best couple of hours I had spent for years. He told me his name was Marc Dubois and that he came from - Louisiana. Oh, well, it wasn't Mississippi after all, but who cares. He had moved to Sunnydale because his company had relocated and wanted him to follow. We chatted the whole afternoon, I told him about my life - letting out the vampires of course - and we made a date for some day during the week. Before we parted I convinced him to buy a cross and to wear it. I told him I thought it was sexy, and with a grin he promised to put it on.

After that we met regularly. For dinner, for lunch, we went to strolls through the park. I learned a lot more about his parents who had died five years ago. He was a single child, and so when his company moved he didn't have real bonds to hold him in Louisiana. And from a selfish point of view I can't say I feel bad about it. I never thought I could feel like that again, that a person could love twice like this in her life, but I did. I fell head over heels, totally and irrevocably, in love with him. I caught myself grinning the whole day when I knew I was supposed to have dinner with him that night, and I even sang in the shower.

When my friends found out we were dating they put him through the third degree, but instead of shying away, he took it stoically, even grinned at Dawn when she asked him if he had honest intentions, while I wanted once again for the earth to swallow me. After that family dinner we stood in front of the door for a while, ignoring all the flattened noses at the window - the downside of having friends, they always want to know everything - and simply stared into each others eyes.

After another minute, he reached out and tucked a stray hair behind my ear, "What are you doing next weekend?" he asked.

I shrugged, thought about what I had planned with Dawn. Ever since she went away to college we don't get to see each other very often, so we make sure to at least spend a weekend together now and then. But when I stared into Marc's eyes all I could think of was - there will be another weekend with Dawn.

"A friend of mine … he works in a resort not far away. He could get me a special rate for a cabin next weekend, and I thought …," he paused, a little bit embarrassed, then smiled, "Well, how about you and I going there? We could have long walks, and we could rent a boat, or just go swimming or-," he broke off at my giggle. "What?"

"Nothing," I shook my head, "But to answer your question, yeah, I'd like to go with you. In fact, I'd love to." My head was already spinning with images of making wild, passionate love with him. I felt dizzy and so deliriously happy I couldn't believe it.

And we went.

We spent a whole weekend together. We talked. We rented a boat. We went swimming. And then we sat there, together in front of the fire, even though it had more than 60 degrees outside, but it was all about romance I guess. We leaned back against the sofa, his arm casually draped around my shoulders, when I couldn't stand it anymore. I turned around and kissed him. And after a moment he kissed me back.

Now, we had kissed before. Long kisses. Short kisses. Hard and soft ones. And as far as kisses went, his were way above the average. In fact they reminded me a little of - and instantly I viciously stomped the thought down. Instead I put everything I had into the kiss, and only seconds later, we were already groping each other, trying to get our clothes off. His hands were a little clumsy as if he couldn't quite steady himself, and that only fired my own passion. We were whispering words none of us could comprehend, but it didn't matter. I reached out with my hands and tried to open the buttons of his shirt and when it didn't work, I simply ripped them off…

and froze.

My gaze was as if transfixed on the object I saw dangling from a chain around his neck, right next to the cross I had made him wear. Strangely that I never noticed it before. But the chain is long and was hidden underneath his shirts all the time.

I felt him kissing my neck behind my earlobe, but I could only stare at the Claddagh Ring on the chain around his neck.

He must have noticed the lack of response from me, because he stopped kissing me, straightened. "Buffy?"

I heard his voice, but I was still as if caught in a dream. I don't even know why I reacted that way. True, I did before, when Scott Hope tried to give me one as a gesture of friendship. But it's been more than four years that Angel died - long enough for me to get over it - over him.

"Buffy, are you okay?"

Only then I managed to shake off the trance and looked up, to find Marc gazing down at me with concern. "What?"

"You, like, zonked out on me. Buffy, is something wrong? Did I do anything you didn't like?"

I shook my head, laughed a little. "No, God, no. I loved what you did to me." When I saw the doubt in his eyes, I added, "I really did. But this," I pointed at the ring, "kind of freaked me out."

"No shit," he replied, "I thought you were going to faint." He followed my gaze then, and touched the ring. "This," he looked at me, his brows raised in question, "The ring freaked you out?"

I nodded, embarrassed now at my own stupid reaction, but unlike other guys who might have been annoyed, he reached out gently and took my hand, "Do you want to tell me?"

No, I really didn't. I hadn't even told him about me being a Slayer. So how was I supposed to tell him about the vampire I loved. "Maybe one day," I said evasively. I saw a little disappointment flicker through his eyes, but it was soon gone.

"Okay," he replied simply.

"Where did you get it?" I asked.

He laughed slightly, "My grand-mother gave it to me."

"Your grand-mother?" He never mentioned one. Of course I thought he had one. Everybody does. Still, he never talked about her.

"She died a few months after my parents," he told me, "I … don't like to talk about it. It … hurts. She was the last of my family … "

I nodded, understanding him completely. I never talk about Angel. Or my mom. "So she gave it to you."

"Yeah. She said it was something from my past." He looked up at me, "Sounds strange I know. I think she meant it was some heirloom. You know a ring given from one ancestor the next. It's Irish - well, originally. At college a lot of people wore it. But this one is special. It's even got an inscription. Do you want to see?"

As much as a slimy demon, but he looked so eager, I didn't want to disappoint him. "Sure," I said without much enthusiasm.

For a moment he fingered at the clasp of the chain, then simply pulled it over his head, and handed me the ring. I held it in my hand, well, cradled it really, a sad smile playing around my lips. It seems Claddagh rings are going to haunt me all through my life. I gently touched the outside, the crown, the hands, the heart - I can still hear Angel saying the words, explaining me the meaning of the ring - that night at the docks when everything still seemed possible. Before our impossible hopes and dreams were shattered by reality.

"You can read the inscription if you want. My grand-mother gave it to me and said I should give it to the girl I wanted to spend my life with. Sounds corny, I know-"

"No," I interrupted him, turning the ring slightly, to read what was writing inside…

… and felt the world shift around me.

//Always//

My breath quickened, my palms started to sweat, my heart pounded in my throat. Now you might think it was a little overboard because of a simple word, but maybe you need to know that exactly the same word was engraved in the ring Angel once gave me. Of course I know that probably a lot of people use that word. But I would've recognized this everywhere.

Angel had a jeweller copy his handwriting - he later told me - and engrave it especially. And that's what I was looking at. I was not looking at some random Claddagh ring. I was looking at *my* ring. The ring Angel once gave me. The one I put on the floor of the mansion, and never saw again.

Until now.

My head snapped up, my fingers almost crushing the ring between them. "Where did you get that?"

Taken aback by the sharpness of my voice, he frowned, "As I told you, my grand-mother gave it to me."

As strange as it sounded, I believed him. And then my thoughts started to race. My breath coming in short gasps, I got up, the ring still firmly clutched in my hand, the chain and cross dangling from my fingers, I started to pace. I remembered Cordy's words about Shanshu, remembered Wesley's sad eyes that Angel wouldn't get his reward now. To hear that Angel was supposed to become human, that he …

I stopped.

Turned.

And stared at Marc who was still sitting on the ground, watching me with concern and confusion.

Angel was supposed to turn human. But after he killed himself none of us ever thought about what that could've meant. What would the Powers do, give him life, with a snap of their fingers. Just turn his body human, the way the Mohra Blood had. Yeah, I recovered the memory of that day with a little help of Willow-magic. After I knew Angel was dead I was eager to hold on to each memory I could get.

Angel was supposed to become human.

But whoever said he had to be human in his own body. Or remember his past. Looking at it more closely it would've been very cruel to let him live with all the horror of his past.

Could it be …

"Buffy, you are scaring me."

Once again I looked at him.

Blond.

Blue eyes.

That certainly didn't match.

The height could be the same. But it was the only thing. Well, besides the instant attraction, the dreams, the dry mouth, the hammering heart. And hadn't his kiss reminded me of …

"Angel."

I hadn't even realised I uttered the word, when he stood up and walked over to where I was standing, "No, sorry," he joked, but he reached out and touched me very gently, "Still only human."

Suddenly needing to touch him badly, I wrapped my hands around his neck and held him for what seemed like an eternity, then let him go, turned and walked out of the cabin.

*

We drove back that night. I asked him to drive me home but didn't ask him to come in. I know I left him confused, maybe even a little hurt, but I couldn't care. I needed answers - and I needed them now.

So I called Wesley in L.A. - he stayed there after Angel died, and married the girl they brought back from Pylea. He thought I had finally gone insane at first, but when I continued, the ring still firmly in my hand, he started to listen and then promised to research. Then I called Giles in London where he spent his holidays and he promised the same.

I sat at home then, glad that Dawn had gone with Xander, Anya and the kids for the weekend, watched the telephone as if it might come alive any moment, my mind still spinning with the possibilities. What if Angel had truly come back to me? What if…

I rubbed my hands over my face, the ring between my fingers scratching the skin - when the telephone finally rang.

"Yes," I didn't even wait until the first ringing had ended.

"Buffy," Giles' voice was slightly amused, "Did you sleep with the phone under your head?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose, "What's sleep?"

He chuckled at the other end.

"So, did you get anything?" I asked.

"Quentin Travers says you owe him one. I pulled him out of his sleep with whoever he was with, and forced him to come with me to the council's headquarters. They have the best collections, the best resources … and after going through files for hours … we finally found something."

"You did?" I tried to keep the hope from my voice, tried to steady my shaking hands.

"Buffy, …," Giles began and I heard the hesitation.

Oh God, I was wrong. I chuckled bitterly. Of course I was. Whenever did the Powers something to make my life better. They only knew how to screw it up the worst possible way.

"… is Angel."

I snapped back to attention, "Huh? What?"

"I just said, from what we found, it's very likely that your young man is indeed Angel. Or rather the reincarnation of his soul."

"H-how l-likely?" I stammered.

"It's certain." He replied, "Marc is indeed Angel. We cross-referenced. I even called Wesley. After all he's the one who translated the original prophecy. And we … uh … contacted some unusually sources, so to speak. He confirmed what we already highly suspected."

"He?" I needed to know if this was hundred percent.

"His name is of no consequence to you, Buffy. But it's sufficient to say that he's absolutely trustworthy. So, this young man is Angel. There is no doubt. I suppose that his memories, his parents, were all made up. You of all people should know how easily this can be done."

I thought about Dawn and nodded. "Yeah," I said, realising Giles couldn't see me.

"The old woman, however, we assume it's the grand-mother he mentioned. She is a highly praised sorceress. She is a messenger for the Powers That Be."

*

After I finished the call, I sat there for more than an hour, alternately staring at the ring or into space. Eventually I jumped up and raced from the house, running the distance to Marc's apartment in full Slayer speed. When I finally stood in front of his door, my heart was pounding wildly, and my hands were shaking so badly I could hardly ring the bell.

He opened and from the look of him he hadn't gotten much sleep either. "Buffy?"

He said my name like a question and it was so much like the way Angel always had, I could do nothing but throw my arms around his neck, and cry. "I love you," I told him. "I love you," over and over again.

His arms came around me after a moment, and I heard him whisper, "I don't understand any of this, but I love you, too."

*

And now I'm sitting here, on my grave, finally coming full circle in my life. I look at the headstone, and smile. Maybe I should've put Angel's name on it. Next to mine. Because we both died and came back. We both survived. And more importantly we are together. After all we've been through, we made it.

I get up, when the sun creeps up behind the trees, bathing the grave in bright light. I smile up at the sun. I always wished I would marry on such a day. I need to get going. Dawn has set up everything.

Oh, didn't I tell you? Marc and I are going to get married in three hours. I need to get my hair done, and Willow and Tara are waiting with my dress. This is the happiest day in my life. I'm finally getting married to Angel. It sometimes still kind of freaks me out to see the blue eyes and the blond hair but it doesn't really matter. I have learned to see through all this and right into his soul and there he is unchanged. He never remembered what was before, and we never tried to do anything about it.

Giles, Wesley and I decided not to tell the others. They had mourned him, and there was no real need to tell them he had come back. We were too afraid of them might slip some day. And what we wanted above all, was to spare him the pain of remembering.

The night before he asked me to become his wife I told Marc about Angel. He listened. Then he took me in his arms and kissed me. And I think if he had dark hair and dark eyes, I couldn't have loved him more.

Liked? Or not? Anyways, thanks for reading. Please send feedback to Connemara.Scarlets@t-online.de

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