Would you look at that? A new story. I'm just as amazed as you are. Anyway, it's been a very long time since I wrote anything, but I finally got some ideas and here it is.
DISCLAIMER: I own not. Joss owns the characters. U2 owns the song, Wild Honey.
DISTRIBUTION: BA_Fluff, B/A Coalition, Leonie, Cathy, and anyone else, just ask.
DEDICATION: To my cousin who said that I actually was really very good at this.
SUMMARY: Completely AU, no vampires, slayers, demons, etc. This is just a Buffy/Angel story I started writing and the whole premise of the show just didn't fit, so it's this way.
RATING: PG-13 at the very most, if even that.
FEEDBACK: I need to know if you want me to keep writing this. Tell me
what you think.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't know anything about anything medical, I'm sorry
if throughout the course of this story if I get it horribly wrong. I know it will be wrong, but I'm hoping that 6 years of ER pays off a little. Also, memories should be in italics, but because this email won't so italics, this, ~ ~ will denote memories.
AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: Happy Holidays, whatever holiday it is that you may celebrate.
Part One
Liam Angelus smirked at the pretty blond girl sitting next to him. She turned, seeing the smirk, and whacked him on the arm. "Angel?" she asked indignantly.
"Hmmm?" he replied innocently.
"Don't look at me like that," she scolded.
"Like what?"
"Like I have food stuck in my teeth!" she laughed, swatting him on the arm again. He laughed at her, momentarily taking his eyes off the road.
"Would you want me to tell you if you had food stuck in your teeth?" he grinned mischievously.
"I do have food in my teeth, don't I?" she cried.
"Buffy, my love, you are perfect," he replied.
"I have food in my teeth," she huffed, pulling out a compact from her purse.
"No, you don't. I just like to see you laugh," he answered.
She smiled and leaned over to kiss him gently on the cheek.
"You know, you really shouldn't do that when I'm driving," he said softly.
"You're just so kissable," she replied as she kissed his earlobe gently.
"I try," he laughed as she kissed him again.
**
Her blood was everywhere. All he could see was her blood, she was covered in it.
"Buffy!" he cried, tears pouring down his own blood-stained face, "Please, Buffy, please!" His legs were wedged in between the seat and the dashboard, he couldn't move. All he could see of Buffy was her blood covering her face, the passenger's side of the dash was covering the rest of her body. And the blood was everywhere. He looked at her again through the haze of unconsciousness that was overcoming him, whispering, begging that she stay with him. He heard sirens before he slipped into darkness.
**
"What happened?" the EMT asked as the ambulance pulled up to the scene.
"Drunk driver," his partner, answered, "The other car didn't even see what was happening until the kid hit them." The kid was pretty new to the field and as he watched the police officers saw through the mass of metal that was formerly a car, he noticed the young couple sitting in the front seats.
"Buffy... ," the young man began to moan.
"He's been in and out of consciousness the whole time, keeps crying out for her," his partner told him, watching the young kid watch the scene unfold and adding quietly, "If she makes it, it'll be an absolute miracle."
"What about the other driver?" the kid asked.
"He's standing over there. Not a scratch," the older guy said, shaking his head, "I think he's finally sober, too." As he spoke, the last piece of the car was lifted off the couple, the officers motioned quickly to them.
"Let's go, we've got to get her to the helicopter," he yelled as the Life Flight helicopter landed behind them. They moved quickly to the car.
"Her spine, it's pretty bad," the kid said. His partner nodded.
"On three, move her whole body," he instructed, "One, two, three." They lifted her onto the stretcher being careful not to do any more damage to her spinal cord.
"We've got her," the helicopter EMT yelled, "Get the guy." They nodded, turning away as the girl was wheeled away.
"Buffy... ," the young man started moaning again. They moved to help him as his eyes fluttered open until the rested on the EMTs.
"Sir, you've been in an accident. Can you tell me your name?"
"Angel," he coughed, "Full name's Liam Angelus."
"Well, Angel, you're a lucky guy," the kid said.
"Where's Buffy?" he moaned.
"She's being flown to the hospital, Angel. Can you tell me if you can move your toes?" Angel moved, grimacing in pain.
"I can move them, but it hurts like hell. Please, is she going to be okay?"
"We'll let you know as soon as we do, okay?" He nodded and slipped back into unconsciousness.
"How do tell someone that only a miracle can save their girlfriend?" the kid asked his partner as he watched Angel slip away before lifting him onto the stretcher.
"No one ever has an answer for that, kid," his partner replied as they loaded the stretcher and climbed in before shutting the doors and speeding away.
Part Two
"Mr. Summers?" the doctor asked.
"Yes. Is she okay? What happened? They wouldn't tell me anything, please, is she okay?" Hank Summers cried.
"Your daughter sustained multiple injuries: head trauma, internal damage, and a spinal injury. She's stable now, but I don't know how long she'll stay that way," the doctor informed him quietly.
"What about Angel?" he asked. The doctor looked at him, confused.
"Angel, sir?" he questioned.
"Her boyfriend. They were driving to San Diego for the weekend, he was driving," he answered.
"You might try information. See if they have anything on him," the doctor answered. Hank nodded. "We'll keep you updated on your daughter's condition and as soon as possible, you can see her." He sat back down in the chair and began to wait again.
"Mr. Summers?" he turned as he heard his name called and saw some of Buffy's friends.
"Xander, Willow. She'll be so glad you came," he said, embracing the two.
"How is she?" Xander asked.
"She's stable, but her injuries... ," he couldn't finish. Willow shook her head as tears began streaming down her face again.
"She'll be okay," Xander said quietly, "She's Buffy, she'll be okay."
**
Angel lay still in the hospital bed, listening to the monotonous bleeping of the machines he was hooked up to. He waited for the doctor to come to talk to him about his injuries. All that they had told him was that he was pretty lucky.
"Hello Angel. How are we feeling?" the doctor asked as she walked into the room.
"How am I supposed to feel?" he asked quietly.
"Alive?" she suggested.
"Look, Dr. Jacks, I feel like I've been split in half and to top it all off, you won't tell me anything about Buffy," he answered.
"We're trying to find out about Ms. Summers. Unfortunately, she was taken to another hospital. It's difficult to find out these things," she answered him as she checked his vitals.
"I don't care. Find out," he demanded.
"We're working on it and as soon as I know, you'll know," she responded. She looked at him sadly before walking out.
"Angel!" Cordelia screeched as she ran into the room, "You're okay!"
"I guess," he sighed.
"We were worried about you," she scolded as Wesley nodded.
"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.
"They won't tell me about Buffy," he answered as the two nodded in understanding.
"Can we help?" Cordy asked.
"Check all the hospitals?" he asked meekly.
"Done," she grinned. He smiled weakly back.
"I hate to interrupt," a voice came from the doorway, "but visiting hours are over and Mr. Angelus needs his rest." Wesley and Cordelia smiled at him before leaving as the nurse had instructed. Soon, he had fallen asleep thanks to the drugs they had given him.
**
She couldn't move. She could see Angel standing in the distance before her, but she couldn't get to him. Her legs wouldn't move. When she looked down she saw they were bloody and bruised. She looked up at him and back down, they were bandaged.
"Angel!" she cried, tears streaming down her face, "I can't move, I can't move." He watched her sadly, tears running down his own face.
He blinked and looked up at her and turned.
"Goodbye," she heard him whisper as he turned away and began to walk.
"Angel!" she screamed.
Her eyes fluttered open. Agonizing pain searing through her body, except her legs, she couldn't feel her legs. She looked down through the groggy mess that was her head and saw that they were bandaged tightly, tubes draining the blood from them.
"Buffy?" a voice asked from her side. She blinked and turned her head unsteadily, wishing that she was dead as her head pounded, clouding her vision. She moaned in answer before the voice and face registered.
"Dad?" she asked though it sounded more like a dry rasp as her throat was dry and hurting.
"Hey baby," her father replied, stroking her forehead. She noticed the bandage wrapped around her head then.
"Angel?" she choked.
"Oh, honey, he's not here," her father answered, "but Willow and Xander and everyone else is all outside waiting." She shook her head, tears began to fall.
"Angel."
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry, but... Angel's dead."
Part Three
"She's at Cedar Sinai, Angel," Cordelia informed him as soon as she walked in. He looked up at her from his green jell-o and grinned.
"You're the best," he replied.
"I know," she answered, smiling at him.
"Hello Cordelia," Dr. Jacks said as she walked in.
"Hey Doc. I was just wondering, when can he go home? He's already tried to escape twice," Cordy asked.
"We're releasing him today. We can't keep him any longer, the whole staff won't stop complaining," she grinned. Angel laughed.
"I won't stay any longer," he declared, "I have to go find her."
"Okay, okay, just sign here and here and you can go," Dr. Jacks laughed. He obliged and signed.
"Did you bring my clothes?" he asked Cordelia. She lifted up a bag in answer. He grabbed it and changed.
**
He walked through the corridors of Cedar Sinai hospital, looking for her room. As he approached he saw a figure sitting in a chair, exhausted.
"Hank?" he asked softly. He had never really liked him. He looked up, his eyes tired and then wide with shock.
"Angel?" he asked. He smiled at him.
"Is she okay? Can I see her?"
"No," the man answered. He looked up at him, surprised.
"Why?"
"She hates you, Angel. You put her in a wheelchair. She never wants to see you again."
**
Buffy was aroused by a tingling through her body, like the tingling she always felt when he was near... But he wasn't near, he was dead.
Tears started welling in her eyes again and she sobbed.
* * * **
His whole world was crashing down on him. She hated him. She was in a wheelchair. He stared at Hank in shock as he explained the injuries that had shook Buffy's tiny frame. He hadn't heard much since he said that Buffy never wanted to see him again.
"I'm taking her to New York, Angel. There's a doctor there that may be able to repair her spine. This is her only chance to ever walk again. And for a new life," Hank said, "Stay away from her. Don't try to call her or talk to her. She doesn't want you to."
He nodded blindly before standing up. He turned and walked down the hospital corridor in a daze, her words crazing him. When he got to the hospital entrance he ran, ran until he couldn't run anymore.
When he finally stopped, he looked up, noticing where he was. Their cliff at the beach. Where they had gone on their first date, where they'd had their first kiss, where he told her he loved her.
Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair and then buried his head in his hands as he fell to the ground. He wanted to die, how he wished he had died.
"Let me die," he cried, "Let me die. She hates me. She hates me." Tears fell incoherently until the sun set when he staggered to his feet and looked at the ocean waves crashing at the rocks below him.
**
"Buffy, honey, we need to go," her father said quietly. Her wheelchair was sitting on their cliff as she watched the waves. Her hair was blowing in the breeze and tears were falling.
"I love you, Angel. Wherever you are, I know you can hear me. I love you," she whispered.
Part Four
"Hello, Ms. Summers," the doctor said as she was wheeled into his office.
"Hi," she replied softly, she looked up at him and tried to smile, but she couldn't, it wasn't in her.
"Mr. Summers," he nodded to her father.
"Hello, Dr. Brown," she replied.
"I just wanted to ask Buffy a few questions and then we'll discuss the procedure," he said.
"I'll just leave you two alone then," Hank responded. He nodded at Buffy and walked out of the office, shutting the door behind her. "How are you, Buffy?" he asked gently.
"I've been better," she answered.
"I understand that you lost someone?" She nodded.
"My boyfriend. He was killed," she whispered, tears welling.
"I'm very sorry," he said, his eyes friendly. Buffy nodded again, wiping her tears, "There are some problems that this may present and I need to know something before we even begin to discuss the surgery and other treatment."
"I understand," she replied.
"Can you do it, Buffy? This isn't going to be easy. Physically, emotionally, mentally. Will you be able to do it?" he asked gently. Buffy looked up at him, trembling.
"Never give up, Buffy. Do it for me," Angel had once told her. She'd gone to him sobbing that she couldn't handle it anymore, there was just too much and he just held her.
"Angel wouldn't want me to give up. Yes, I can do it," she answered even though somewhere, everywhere, inside her said that she couldn't. Not without him.
"I'm always here for you. Remember that," he had said. She looked back at the doctor.
"Good," he nodded, pressing a button on his phone, "Could you send Mr. Summers back in here please?"
"Right away, doctor," a voice answered and then the door opened, her father walked in.
**
"Okay, Buffy," Dr. Brown said as she was wheeled into the operating room, "Are you ready?"
"As ever," she whispered. She was rolled onto her stomach as the anesthetic started taking affect.
"Alright, Buffy. We'll see you in a few hours," Dr. Brown said as she slipped into a heavy sleep.
**
Buffy woke up hours later, bandaged from her surgery. She still couldn't feel her legs. Even though Dr. Brown had explained to her that she wouldn't be able to feel them for quite a long time, a part of her had believed that she would. She would still be in a wheelchair and her therapy would be grueling, but hopefully she would walk again.
"Hey Sleepyhead," her father's voice came. She opened her eyes a little more, still groggy from the drugs. She smiled sleepily as he sat down next to her.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Tired," she groaned quietly.
"Dr. Brown said that the surgery was a success," he told her as he took her hand. She smiled again, "I'm going to find a nurse or doctor or someone." She nodded. He left the room and she closed her eyes again.
"Glad to see that you're awake, Buffy," Dr. Brown's voice said.
She opened her eyes and nodded at the doctor. "Dad says that everything went well," she managed.
"I couldn't have asked for better conditions," he replied. "The surgery went smoothly. We repaired your spine and there was no real damage to the spinal cord. It's all up to you now."
"When do I start physical therapy?" she asked, taking a sip of water.
"In about a month. Your body needs to heal before we can start working it," he answered.
"When can I go home? To California, I mean," she asked. Dr. Brown looked at her father.
"Honey, right now, we need to stay in New York. Dr. Brown wants to monitor your progress and the best physical therapy program is here. Until Dr. Brown says so, we're pretty much here," her father answered.
"But everyone's in LA. I want to go home," she cried softly.
"Buffy, while you're in therapy, you really need to be here," the doctor replied. Defeated, she nodded.
"How long you're here really depends on you, Buffy," the doctor continued, "I've seen patients with the best chances give up and never walk again while those who have very little chances of ever walking are walking and living like they never had an accident. It's all you."
**
"Mr. Summers, I really recommend that you get her in to see a psychologist as soon as you can. She'll need to talk to someone about the accident and the loss of Angel. If she doesn't heal mentally, she can't heal physically," Dr. Brown explained to Hank as they talked in the hall outside Buffy's hospital room.
"Is there anyone you recommend?" he asked.
"A colleague of mine, Dr. Rupert Giles, is excellent. I'll call him immediately and set her up an appointment," he answered.
"Thank you," he replied before walking back into the room to find Buffy quietly crying.
Part Five
In the days
When we were swinging from the trees
I was a monkey
Stealing honey from a swarm of bees
I could taste
I could taste you even then
And I would chase you down the wind.
You could go there if you please
Wild honey
And if you go there, go with me
Wild honey
It was a dream, that he knew. It was a dream because everywhere but here, she hated him. Here, they were lovers again. She would run through the grass barefoot and laugh as he chased her. Her hair flew behind her, the color of wild honey. She even smelled of honeysuckle.
He caught her and kissed her as her hair blew around them.
"Wild honey," he murmured, moving it out of her face. She grinned.
"Does it taste as good?"
"Better," he smiled.
Did I know you?
Did I know you even then?
Before the clocks kept time
Before the world was made
From the cruel sun
You were my shelter
You were my shelter and my shade
"Can I just stay here forever?" she asked as he fed her strawberries.
"I wouldn't object," he answered. She smiled at him before feeding him a strawberry. She laid down on the grass, watching the sun, the clouds.
"Are you going to leave me?" she asked absentmindedly. He was surprised.
"Why would I leave you?"
"Hearts tangle and then dance. Why does the sun set?" she answered.
He looked at her confused. He looked up at the sun and back at her.
She was covered in blood
"Because it has to," she whispered before disappearing.
If you go there with me
Wild honey
You can do just what you please
Wild honey
Yeah, just blowing in the breeze
Wild honey
Wild, wild, wild
I'm still standing, I'm still standing
Where you left me
Are you still growing wild
With everything tame around you?
I send you flowers
Cut flowers for your hall
I know your garden's full
But is there sweetness at all
oh oh oh
Angel woke with a start, the memory of her so vivid. The heartache in her eyes as he watched her. There was nothing he could do. She hated him.
If you go there with me
Wild honey
Won't you take me, take me please
Wild honey
Yeah, swinging through the trees
Wild honey
Wild, wild, wild
But he still loved her. He would always love her.
Part Six
"Hello, Buffy," a man's voice said as he walked into her hospital room. Dr. Brown had made an appointment for her to see a psychologist.
"Hi," she said softly.
"I'm Dr. Giles, but please, call me Giles," he replied in a thick British accent.
"Sure," she said softly.
"How are you?" She turned to face him, the sadness in her eyes very apparent.
"How do you think I am?"
"I understand you lost someone?" he asked.
"Everyone keeps asking me that, it makes me want to scream," she said angrily, "Yes, I lost someone. Not just someone, the love of my life. How would that make you feel?"
"Like dying," he said gently. Buffy looked at him, questioningly.
"Basically," she replied.
"Buffy, I understand that you feel like nothing could ever hurt worse, like your heart has been shattered and nothing except that one person who is gone can repair it, but it does get better," the man replied.
"How do you know? Your fancy piece of paper that says you're a doctor tell you that?" she said icily.
"No," he answered quietly, meeting her eyes, "A number of years ago, my girlfriend was murdered." She looked at him, her eyes gentler.
"Why are you telling me that?"
"Because Buffy, people survive everyday. People live everyday. You lost someone very dear to your heart very suddenly and very unexpected, nothing can change that, but you can keep going, you can survive," he answered.
"Oh," she said, "I'm sorry. About your girlfriend." He smiled at her.
"I'm very sorry about... ,"
"Angel," she supplied, "his name was Angel."
**
"Angel?" Cordelia's voice cut through the hallway of his apartment. He didn't answer. He just sat, watching the rain from the balcony.
"Angel?" Wesley's voice follows.
"I know you're here, Angel! Answer me!" Cordy cried. Angel ignored the voices, hoping that they wouldn't find him. It was an unrealistic hope. They found him sitting against the wall in the bedroom shortly.
"Angel," Wesley said quietly. He didn't look up. "Angel." Finally the young man looked up, despair very apparent in his eyes.
"Please go away," he replied.
"No way, Angel. We want to help," Cordy said. He looked up at her, tears brimming in his brown eyes.
"There's nothing you can do," he whispered, "nothing."
"Angel, I know this is difficult, but it's been almost four months and you still haven't done anything. Please, we want to help you," Cordy said as tears started to fall from her own eyes. It killed her to see one of her best friends in this condition.
"And do you suggest I do, Cordy? What?" he yelled through his tears.
"We made an appointment to go see a psychiatrist this afternoon. Please go. Just talk to her," Wesley supplied.
**
Angel walked into the office of the psychiatrist that he had an appointment with, Darla Williams. He stopped at the receptionist's desk and told her he was there. She called her boss and told him to go on in. He stepped up to the door and walked in as it was opened for him.
"I don't think I can do this," he said quietly.
"Why?" she asked.
"I don't know what you know about my 'case' but my ex-girlfriend, who I still love, hates me," he began.
"And that you're getting over a tragic accident," Darla interjected.
"No, you look too much like her," he whispered, "Except the eyes. Her eyes were green." Darla looked at him, feeling his pain.
"Angel, I promise that once you get to know me, all that I have in common with her is probably hair color," she said gently.
"No. She was small and blond. Beautiful. It's just too close...," he whispered.
"Maybe I'm exactly what you need," she said gently, "I'm not her, Angel and even though it may take a very long time, you need to get past this. That's what I'm here for. Just give me a chance." He looked at her doubtfully, but nodded.
"There are a lot of things that we need to get through, Angel, so let's start at the beginning," she said, sitting in her chair. He didn't know where to begin, but he closed his eyes and started to tell her about Buffy.
~ ~ It was the night before graduation. Buffy looked up at him, smiling as they danced slowly around the candle lit room.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You deserve all of it," he replied.
"I can't believe that I'm graduating tomorrow. College is over. It's time to go out into the world," she said.
"The world can't wait for you," he grinned.
"This is so perfect. And San Diego tomorrow. I love it all."
"I love you."
"I love you, too," she replied. She kissed him softly on the lips and then deeper until they weren't even dancing anymore. He lifted her up with his arms around his waist and she wrapped her legs around him. He moved over the bed and laid her gently on it. ~ ~Part Seven
Buffy was laying on her bed, writing, letting her thoughts go through her through the pen. Giles, her therapist had told her to find an outlet. Writing, painting, anything that would allow her to release her heart. So when she got home that day she grabbed some paper and started writing. Painting, she hadn't told him Angel painted yet.
"Buffy?" her father's voice called.
"In here, dad," she replied, lifting herself up with her arms. The door to her room opened and her father stood in the doorway.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Very tired. Therapy was really grueling," she answered.
"How was Giles today?"
"As good as can be. He told me to find a way to let go, just let it all go," she answered.
"And what did you decide to do?" he asked.
"Write. I just started writing everything down. So far, it's really not helping, but I think it will," she replied honestly.
"Give it time, honey. You'll still always miss Angel, but one day it won't hurt so much." She nodded as the tears started to pool in her eyes. She smiled a bittersweet smile at him as he left the room, closing the door.
"I don't want it to stop hurting... if it stops hurting it means I stopped loving you," she whispered, looking at her picture board, scattered with happier memories. She wiped her eyes and pulled herself into her wheelchair, rolling over to pick out a particular picture, their first trip to San Diego
~ ~ "So, you guys from out of town?" one the surfers in front of them asked
"Yeah," Buffy replied, grinning at Angel as they walked down the steep and rocky path they had taken as a shortcut to the beach
"Why'd you choose this beach?" the other surfer asked.
"It sorta chose us," she laughed. "We just kept driving and this was the one we ran into."
"Ah. 'Cause this is a nude beach," the guy answered. Angel stopped and laughed.
"Really?" Buffy questioned.
"Well, if you go past the mountain point it is, but this part isn't," he replied.
"I think we'll be staying on this side," Angel laughed. They got to the bottom of the path and walked down to the beach, finding an open spot near the water.
"I love the beach," Buffy said as Angel rubbed tanning oil on her back.
"I love you," he answered. She turned to face him, grabbing his hand.
"I love you, too," she replied, smiling at him. It was the first time they said they loved the other. Later in the day, Buffy stopped a passing surfer, asking if he could take a picture of her and Angel. She walked up to Angel, kissing him softly on the lips and told him to smile for the camera. When she got the roll developed, she found that the surfer had taken two pictures, the posed and smiling one and one of her kissing him. ~ ~
She sighed at the memory of Angel's soft lips on her own, tasting the salt of the ocean they had been in after she kissed him.
She put the picture back on the board and wheeled herself back over to the bed. She lifted herself out of the chair and onto the bed and picked up her pen again. She knew exactly what she was going to write this time.
**
The short story she had intended to write ended up being not so short. There were pages and pages scattered through her room, waiting to be copied on her computer where pages and pages were already saved. She had written the end earlier that afternoon, the happy couple who had survived a devastating car crash had finally made their way back to each other, they were happy again.
Unfortunately, she was not. It had been over a year since the accident and everyday was still a struggle to get out of bed, physically and emotionally. She still woke up, stretching her arms out to the absent lover of her past. Then she got angry with herself, Angel was dead and this didn't make it better. And then she cried, cried for the love she lost.
Part Eight
"I don't want to go out again," he said exasperated.
"Angel, it's been a year and a half. You've got to move on," Darla said.
"I don't have time. With the new gallery opening and the wedding, I just...."
"I understand that it's hard. I understand that it was a difficult break up, but it comes to a point where you just have to let go." He looked at her sadly, remembering, before standing up and walking to the door.
~ ~ She was finally asleep. After coughing for a half an hour, she finally drifted away thanks to the Benadryl he had given her just a little while before. He had come home to find her wrapped up in blankets, surrounded by tissue and cough medicine.
"Hey baby. What's wrong?"
"I feel icky," she complained as he sat next to her, feeling her head as she leaned into his arms.
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Is there anything you want?"
"Soup?" she asked weakly as she started to cough.
"Right away," he answered as he laid her down on the couch and moved to make her some soup. When it was done, he brought it over to her on a tray with some crackers. She struggled to sit up.
"No, let me help." He lifted her up so she was sitting up against the arm of their big soft couch. He sat the tray on the coffee table and sat down on the couch and began to feed her the soup. After it was gone, he pulled her into his arms.
"Let me go. You'll get sick," she said as she tried to get away.
"I don't care. I never want to let go." She smiled weakly as she cuddled back into his arms. ~ ~
"I don't know if I want to let go."
**
"You're bringing a date to the wedding, right?" Cordelia asked over the phone the night before her wedding. He sighed into the receiver.
"No," he replied.
"Angel!"
"It's not time, Cor, it's just not time," he told her for the millionth time.
"It's been over a year and a half, almost two years, Angel. You have to start dating again."
"I know that I should be moved on and dating again, but I just don't feel like it. I'm just not in date mode."
"Maybe you need to date to get into date mode," she suggested.
"I promise that I will date again Cordelia, but right now I am as happy as I can be. I'm fine being single, okay?"
"Okay," she said, accepting defeat for the time being.
**
"Hey," he said softly as he walked into the living room, seeing Cordelia sitting on the couch, holding her new baby, Hunter.
"Hi!" she replied as Gunn followed Angel into the room.
"How's my girl?" Gunn asked, kissing his wife gently on the cheek.
"And boy, we're fine," she replied. Angel sat down on the couch, next to his old friend and placed the flowers he had bought on the table.
"Can I hold him?"
"Of course you can, God-daddy," she replied, smiling at him.
He grinned, taking the infant from her. "He's so perfect," he said softly.
"I know. You could have one, you know," she said. He rolled his eyes.
"Let's not start. I'm still getting used to this gallery owning thing."
"It's been three years, Angel," she said quietly.
"I know and I know it's time. Just give me a little more time to get settled and then we'll talk," he promised. She nearly squealed with joy.
"About time!" He laughed.
Part Nine
It had been three years since the accident and Buffy walked down the streets of New York on the arm of her boyfriend, Riley Finn. They were on their way to see Phantom of the Opera at the Majestic Theater. Things were good. Her third book was going to be released tomorrow morning. This date was in celebration of that, her last two books, published within a year of each other were successes and this one was projected to be better than those two. Her life was about to end and begin with book signings and interviews and everything else that came with this job.
"Buffy?" Riley asked.
"Hmm?" she replied.
"Nothing. You just looked a little dazed," he answered softly.
She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. He was a good guy. But he wasn't Angel. She felt her heart drop at the thought of Angel, it still hurt too much sometimes.
"Just pre-signing jitters, I guess. Big day tomorrow," she told him. He leaned down to kiss her for reassurance.
"Everything will be fine," he said after the kiss. She smiled again. They reached the theater and he took out their tickets.
After the show, he walked her home to her apartment.
"I have a surprise for you," he said as they got to the door.
"Riley... ," she began.
"Don't like surprises?"
"As a rule, no," she replied as he laughed. She unlocked her door and walked in to her apartment. She looked at him, indicating to give it to her.
"It's in the bedroom," he laughed. She raised her eyebrows at him in question.
"It better not be...."
"It's not that," he laughed. She rolled her eyes, taking off her jacket and moved to the bedroom. She opened the door and flicked on the light. She gasped.
"Where's... ," she asked.
"The painting is on the floor over there, Buffy. I just remembered how much you liked this painting when we were at the gallery the other day and I thought it would fit in here," he explained.
"You had no right to take the other one down," she fumed as she moved to pick the painting up off the floor.
"It doesn't even fit the room, Buffy. And you loved this painting," he said pointing to the newly framed print by Terra, the obscure artist whose gallery showing they attended a few nights before.
"I know... it's just... this painting... ," she tried to explain before sighing as she picked it up, "There's something that I never told you about this painting. About the artist who painted it. I dated him and he painted this for me."
~ ~ "How long have you been painting?" she asked Angel as she sat across from him in the cafeteria. They had met for lunch and he had arrived covered in paint.
"All morning," he answered. She laughed.
"I meant how old were you when you started, silly. How long have you been painting?"
"Most of my life. My mother was a sculpturer, she put a brush in my hands to keep me busy while she was working. Eventually, it became more than just 'paint with water' and I just used it as an outlet," he replied.
"Wow. That's incredible. I've never been good at anything," she said.
"Now, I hardly believe that," he replied. She grinned.
"Would you paint something for me?" she asked hesitantly. They had been dating for only a few weeks and she didn't want to invade his space. He smiled at her.
"As soon as I finish with this new show," he promised. She smiled and leaned over to kiss him. ~ ~
**
Angel sat at his desk, working on some papers for the gallery. He'd only owned it for six months and he still didn't know what he was doing.
"Ms. Chase on line one, Mr. Ashton," Daisy, his secretary said through the intercom.
"Hey, Cor," he said warmly through the phone.
"Angel! How's the art business?" Cordelia asked.
"It wasn't this confusing when I was just painting for galleries," he complained, she laughed. "How's Gunn?"
"Loud," she replied, referring to her husband.
"And San Francisco, you adjusting?"
"Well, it's not L.A., but we like it," she answered.
"And my godson?"
"Well, he's only three weeks old, but I think he misses his Uncle Angel," she laughed.
"I miss him, too," he replied. He had been out there two weeks ago to see Cordy and Gunn's newborn son.
"Have you heard from Wesley?"
"Last week. He said he's glad to be back in England," he answered.
"That's good." They continued their conversation for a little while longer until the baby started to cry and Cordelia had to go.
"Take care, Angel. And go out on a date for me, okay?"
"Maybe. I'll talk to you later, Cor." He hung up the phone, thinking about what she had said, he hadn't gone out since Buffy. He hadn't really wanted to even though Cordelia, Welsey, Gunn, and Darla had all encouraged it. He just wasn't ready yet so he through himself into his recovery and then his painting and then the gallery. He didn't have any time, he told them, he was too busy. Maybe it was time though.
He got up and put his jacket on. He walked down to the local deli to get a sandwich and on his way back, he stopped cold in his tracks, not believing what he was seeing.
Part Ten
Buffy walked down the streets of Los Angeles. She hadn't been back to LA since the accident; it hurt too much even though she had wanted to be there so desperately at the beginning. But now she was back for good. After living in New York for so long, trying to move past everything there, she knew that this was the last thing she had to do; live where they had loved.
She had only just told Riley about everything that had happened a couple of weeks ago and between now and then, a whirlwind of decisions had been made. Ultimately, she had to go back.
There was a slight breeze in the hair and her honey blonde hair blew a little. She closed her eyes, feeling the breeze on her face. There was one more thing she had to do now, no matter how much it would hurt.
**
Buffy was back in LA. Angel had watched her walk down the sidewalk, her honey blonde hair blowing in the wind. She had walked down the street.
"I'm so happy for you, Buffy. Miracles do happen," he whispered. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, remembering.
~ ~ "You can't catch me," she taunted. His eyebrows raised.
"I can't, eh?"
"Nope," and took off running to the water. He followed. She reached the water and as he reached her, she splashed his face.
"Now you're in trouble," he teased and lunged for her. Catching her tiny frame, he lifted her into his arms and started walking out deeper into the ocean.
"Angel, no! Angel!" she squirmed, laughing. He paid no attention and then when he was about waist deep, he dropped her into the cold water. She came up sputtering.
"Told you," he teased. She glared and doused him with water.
"You are in so much trouble, mister!" and began walking to the water's edge, a small grin playing on her lips. She reached the sand, but before she could do anything else, an arm reached around her waist and swung her around so that she was facing him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered playfully, then kissing her gently.
"You're forgiven," she laughed, deepening the kiss. ~ ~
"I'm sorry, Buffy. I truly am," he whispered, watching her walk away.
**
"You have an appointment at three," Daisy informed him as he walked into his office.
"With?" he asked.
"The writer, Anne Summers," Daisy replied, excited, "she wants to donate a painting."
"Thank you Daisy," he replied, the meaning of her words sinking in.
**
Buffy called Ashton Gallery and made an appointment to see the owner, Lance Ashton. She wanted to donate a painting to the gallery. She wanted other people to see his beautiful work. She moved quietly to her bedroom, looking up at the painting hanging over her bed, sighing at the memories of it.
~ ~ "When I was little, there was this meadow that my father used to take me to. In the summer it was full of wild flowers and no matter how bad his allergies were, we always went," Buffy told him, touching the petals of the bouquet he had brought her. He smiled at her, touching her cheek.
"Tell me more," he said, gathering her in his arms.
"I would gather bouquet after bouquet to take home to mom. We'd both have armfuls of wild flower bouquets. We put them in her room so that it smelled like the outside. When she got the brain tumor, she was in the hospital a lot and she didn't go outside anymore," she continued as tears started to fall slowly.
"I bet she loved it," he whispered, wiping away the tears. She smiled at him.
"At the end, her whole room was filled with them. Even though the doctor said we had to have a sterile environment. But we didn't care. She was going to die anyway, we wanted her happy."
"I'm sorry, baby," he replied, pulling her to him.
"We covered her grave with them. I love wild flowers, Angel."
~ ~
She stood on her bed and pulled the painting off the wall.
Part Eleven
She was coming. There was a painting that she wanted to donate to his gallery. The illustrious Anne Summers, praised writer; the girl he had loved as Buffy wanted to donate a painting to his gallery.
"Daisy, could you call Sasha for me and ask her to come in here?" he asked his secretary through his intercom.
"Sure," she answered. Ten minutes later, the tall brunette walked in.
"Hey babe. What's up?" she teased.
"I have a huge favor to ask," he admitted. She grimaced.
"What?"
"Anne Summers is coming in today... ," he began.
"You're kidding me!? Anne Summers, the writer Anne Summers??" she interrupted. He nodded.
"She has a painting she wants to donate to the gallery," he explained, "Would you meet with her?"
"You don't want to meet with her? Why not?" she asked, confused.
"We, uh, used to go out," he continued.
"You, Sir Brood-A-Lot, went out with Anne Summers?"
"Yes. About three years ago," he replied.
"Bad breakup?"
"We were in a car accident. You know that scar I have on my hand?" she nodded, "I got it in the accident. Buffy was paralyzed."
"Angel, I'm so sorry! But why... ?"
"She hates me. We were sent to different hospitals and then they wouldn't tell me which one she was in. I had Cordy find out and when I was released I went to see her. Her father was sitting outside and I asked if I could see her... ," his voice started to crack, "and he told me that Buffy never wanted to see me again. I put her in a wheelchair."
"And she doesn't know that this is your gallery?" she asked.
He shook his head no.
"I bought it under another name. You know that," he answered.
"I know, but why?"
"I don't really know. For a long time, I wanted to be anyone, but Liam Angelus and when I bought the gallery, it was my way of being that person. You're the only person at the gallery who knows who I really am," he answered.
"Oh. Angel, Anne Summers can walk. I've seen interviews with her," Sasha said, confusion masking her face.
"There's a doctor in New York that apparently can work miracles with spinal injuries. Buffy's father took her to New York as soon as she was stable enough to fly," he explained as she mouthed an 'Oh.'
"Yeah, I'll meet with her. What do I tell her when the owner doesn't show up?" she asked.
"An emergency came up. Then you do your job," he answered, "If the painting would work in the gallery, take it. You know my tastes, you've done it before."
"Alright," she replied, doubtful that this was the best option. She thought he should talk to her, but he was her boss.
**
"Hello, Ms. Summers," Sasha greeted the petite blonde who walked into her office later that afternoon.
"Please, call me Buffy. It's nice to meet you... uh?" she asked, taking the outstretched hand.
"Sasha Whitmore. I'm the gallery coordinator," she answered.
"I thought I was meeting with Mr. Ashton?" she asked.
"An emergency came up. He's terribly sorry and asked that I meet with you instead," she lied, "Now, I understand that there's a painting that you wanted to donate to the gallery?"
"Yeah," she answered, moving to lift the painting at her side up on the chairs, "It's very special to me, but it has caused a lot of pain in my life. This is my closure."
**
Buffy lifted Angel's painting up, the cover still on it. She turned to lift the cover off, sighing at the memory of the painting.
~ ~ "Angel! I wanna see it!" she cried.
"No," he answered adamantly. She pouted at him from in front of the canvas.
"It's my painting!"
"Not until it's done," he laughed.
"Please?" she pouted.
"No. Now out!" he commanded. She stuck her tongue out at him. "It's almost done."
"Fine." She stalked out of the room and slammed the door in protest as he laughed. ~ ~
She lifted the cover off, revealing a small blonde child asleep in a meadow of wild flowers. It looked like her when she was a young child. She touched the canvas, soaking up the memories. She was so immersed in her own memories that she didn't notice the small gasp that had escaped Sasha's lips.
**
Sasha immediately recognized the style as Angel's and the small black signature in the corner confirmed it. She didn't know what to do. It was Angel's painting. One that his ex-girlfriend had and was now donating to his museum. Unknown to her, but still.
Normally she would have jumped at the painting, after having tried to get Angel to display some of his own work for so long, but because of who this was and because of it's history, she just didn't know.
"Ms. Summers, this is a beautiful painting. Why would you want to give it up?"
"It has... a lot of painful memories behind it," she answered softly. "It hurts to see it. I want someone to be able to look at it and enjoy the beauty that I can't."
"I'm going to have to talk to An... Mr. Ashton. I'll let you know as soon as I can," she said, trying to be sincere, though her heart was breaking for Angel because of the girl's hatred for him.
"Alright. This is the number to my home," Buffy said softly, handing her a business card. She looked at the painting one last time, sighing and then covering it up.
"I'll be in touch," Sasha replied.
Part Twelve
Angel watched Buffy walk away to her car. Her hair blowing in the breeze as she carried the painting under her arm. He sighed, touching the glass between them. If only it were glass between them. She put the painting in the car and got in, driving away.
"It was your painting," Sasha's voice came from behind him.
He turned. "What?"
"Your painting, of a girl asleep in wild flowers. She wanted to donate your painting," Sasha explained.
"I thought she might," he replied, his shoulders slumping.
"I told her I had to talk to you, that I would keep in touch. Do you want me to take the painting, Angel?" He shook his head 'no,' turning back to the glass as a tear slowly slid down his cheek.
**
Buffy sighed on her way home to her house. She had fully expected that the gallery would take the painting. She couldn't have it anymore. Angel would want her to move on and though she had in almost every way, the painting still hung in her room, preventing her to completely let him go. She had to let him go.
She pulled into the drive of her little beach cottage and went inside, taking the painting with her. Setting it down, she hit the play button on her answering machine, listening to the messages, the first two were from her two best friends, Xander and Willow, wanting to know when they got to see her now that she was back in California.
"Hi, Buffy. It's Riley. I wanted to come and see you. Give me a call when you get home," the voice of her boyfriend said from the machine.
"Hello, Ms. Summers. This is Sasha Whitmore from the gallery. If you could, please call me back. I would like to talk to you about the painting," the woman's voice said. There were two other messages, one from Willow and the other from Giles; both wanting to check up on her. She picked up the phone and dialed the number to the gallery.
"Ashton Gallery. How may I help you?" the voice answered.
"Sasha Whitmore, please," Buffy asked.
"One moment."
"Sasha Whitmore," the brunette said.
"Hello, Ms. Whitmore, this is Buffy Summers," she replied into the phone.
"Yes, Ms. Summers, thank you for returning my call," Sasha said.
"You wanted to talk about the painting?"
"I'm so sorry, but Mr. Ashton said that right now, we are unable to take it," the woman said.
"But I just want to give it to you. I don't want to sell it or have it displayed, I just want to give it to you," Buffy said, unable to believe that they didn't want Angel's painting.
"I'm so sorry, but we just can't take it right now. We'll let you know if anything changes. Goodbye," she said before hanging up. Buffy looked at the phone, tears brimming in her eyes, but she was a fighter and she wanted to know why they didn't want it.
**
Sasha set the phone back in its cradle and looked up at Angel. "Well?"
"Well what?" he sighed.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I've been better," he replied, "but I've been worse. I'll be okay."
"Are you sure?" He nodded in answer before walking out of the office. Part of her wanted to call the young girl back and tell her that she would take the painting, but her loyalty to Angel prevented it. Instead, she called her secretary in to have her find out when Ms. Summers had her next public function.
"Okay, but... why?" Amy, her secretary asked. Sasha grinned. "I'm going undercover," she answered secretly, "don't tell Mr. Ashton." Amy laughed as she walked out of the office.
**
"Anne Summers has a book signing at Barnes and Noble next Thursday at noon," Amy said walking into Sasha's office two hours later.
"Great. Thanks, Amy," Sasha answered, looking up from the papers on her desk and blocking out her entire schedule for next Thursday.
Part Thirteen
Sasha walked into Barnes and Noble the next Thursday to find a large line formed in front of Buffy's table where she was signing her latest book, The Last Day. Sasha had read the book, it was quite good. It, like her other two, were love stories. Tragedy had struck in each story, but they each had a happy ending. She remembered the first one, Breaking, was about a young girl who had been paralyzed in an accident and found love through her trial. Sasha had to wonder, knowing more of the young girl's history, if it was her story, ending happily.
She walked up to the table quickly and smiled, "Ms. Summers?"
Buffy turned as she signed the book in front of her and smiled a little. "Hello. What are you doing here?" she asked hesitantly, giving the book back to it's owner and replying sincerely, "Have a great day."
"Buying a book," she answered, "I was wondering, when you're done, if I could buy you lunch? I feel really bad about the painting. Maybe you could tell me a little more about it." Buffy hesitated and then nodded.
"I'll be done at one-thirty," she replied.
"Could you meet me at, oh, Valentino's? It's the best Italian in the city," Sasha said, scribbling the address down for her. Buffy nodded.
"I'll be there."
**
Buffy didn't know why she agreed to me the woman, but something inside of her wanted to, needed to. Maybe she could find out about the painting and why they didn't want it. She entered the restaurant, sighing as she looked around, Angel had taken her there once.
~ ~ "Angel! Where are we going?" she asked again.
"If I tell you, it won't be a surprise," he laughed.
"I don't like surprises!" He laughed again.
"We're almost there. Just sit back and enjoy the ride," he answered.
"It's not like it's a roller coaster," she grumbled. He shook his head.
"We're there," he said as the car came to a stop in front of a quaint little Italian restaurant, Valentino's.
"Italian. This is good," she replied as he opened the door for her.
"It's the best Italian in the city," he said. She smiled as he took her hand as they followed the waitress to their table. ~ ~
"I'm looking for Sasha Whitmore," Buffy told the hostess.
"Ms. Summers?" Buffy nodded, "This way." She followed her to the table in the corner and smiled as Sasha looked up.
"Hi Buffy," the tall brunette replied. She reminded Buffy of Cordelia, an old friend of Angel's.
"Hi. How are you?"
"I'm well, thanks. You?"
"Tired," the blonde laughed.
"Do you do the book signing thing often?"
"Only once after a new book comes out. This is the first time I've done it in L.A.," she answered.
"Oh? Where do you usually do it?" Sasha asked.
"New York. I've lived there for the last three years," Buffy replied.
"Where did you live before?"
"Here. I've lived in California for most of my life. I grew up in L.A. and when I was fifteen, my father and I moved to this little town, Sunnydale. I moved back when I graduated and went to UCLA," she answered.
"Why did you move to New York?" Sasha asked even though she already knew the answer.
"There were a lot of reasons," Buffy answered. The waitress came and took their orders and soon brought their meals. After they were done, they sat and talked for a few more hours. They enjoyed the other's company and they soon felt like old girlfriends, but Buffy still had to know.
Buffy looked up at the other girl. "Part of the reason I agreed to come was because I wanted to talk to you about the painting. Why didn't he want it?" Buffy said quietly.
"Buffy, I have really enjoyed this. I haven't had this much fun since a friend of mine moved to San Francisco with her husband and I still feel bad, but... ," Sasha replied.
"But what? It's a beautiful painting and I don't understand why he doesn't want it. He hasn't even seen it!" Buffy cried.
"Why don't you want it, Buffy?" she asked gently.
"I told you, it has painful memories," she answered.
"What?" the other girl prodded gently. Buffy looked up at her again with tears in her eyes. She sighed and smiled a bittersweet smile.
~ ~ "Hi, um, I was wondering if you could help me?" Buffy asked the tall man at the art gallery. He turned and her breath caught. He was handsome, tall, dark, and everything else. His brown eyes were smiling at her and his hair was dark brown and spiked in her favorite style.
"Miss?" he asked again.
"Huh?" she replied, snapping back into reality.
"Can I help you?" Angel asked the small blonde goddess in front of him. Her blonde hair cascaded below her shoulders and her eyes were the color of emeralds. He could barely keep himself from touching her golden skin.
"Yes, um, I'm Buffy and I was wondering if you could tell me who painted this?"
"Angel, and I did." ~ ~
"An old boyfriend of mine painted it. We met when I was a freshman at UCLA, he was a senior. We dated for my entire college career. When I was a junior, we bought an apartment and lived together for the last two years. After graduation we were driving to San Diego and we were in a car accident," Buffy said, telling the story quietly, "We were in an accident, hit by a drunk kid. I was nearly paralyzed, but a doctor in New York was able to repair my spine and through a lot of physical therapy for my body and therapy for my heart, I was able to walk again. That's when I started writing."
"Was Breaking your story?" Sasha asked. Buffy nodded. "Except I didn't get the happy ending."
"Why?"
"My boyfriend, Angel, he was killed in the accident."
Part Fourteen
Sasha watched the young girl sitting across from her in shock, she believed that Angel was dead.
"You're sure?" she sputtered.
"That he died?" Buffy asked, "Pretty sure. When I came to, my father told me Angel had been killed. I'm fairly certain." Sasha looked at her, remembering what Angel had told her, Buffy's father had told him that she hated him. Her father was so bitter that he lied to the both of them.
"And you want to give the painting away because... ?" that, she didn't understand.
"Angel would want me to move on. As long as that painting is hanging over my bed, no matter how much I love it, I can't do that," Buffy answered softly.
"Have you moved on?"
"In almost every way that I can," Buffy whispered.
"What do you mean?" Sasha asked.
"I've started dating again. I even have a boyfriend, Riley. I moved back here. I don't cry every time I hear his name or see something that reminds me of him," she replied.
"But the painting..."
"Is holding me back. When I look at the painting, I remember so many things about him, about us, and I can't let someone else into my heart. I just keep thinking that my heart already belongs to Angel," Buffy answered.
"I think you should go talk to Lance," Sasha said.
"I wanted to," Buffy said quietly.
"Don't make an appointment. I'll take you back to the gallery and you can just barge in," she said, "He'll be there."
"But he doesn't want the painting," she replied.
"We'll go get it and then you can show it to him. Tell him what you told me," Sasha replied. She was going to straighten this mess out. Both were clearly miserable. Buffy looked at her hesitantly before consenting.
**
Angel sat at his desk, going through some old papers for the gallery. He heard Daisy's voice from outside telling someone that they couldn't come in without an appointment. He wondered who it was. The door opened and there she was, Buffy, holding the painting, a determined look on her face. They made eye contact and she dropped the painting.
"Angel?" she gasped, trembling.
"Hello, Buffy," he said evenly.
"You're... you're... ," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
"Lance Ashton? Yes," he answered.
"Alive," she whispered, "Alive." He looked at her, confused.
"You thought I wasn't?"
"You didn't want to be with me?" she asked, tears running down her cheeks, "So you had them tell me you were dead." She was getting angry, but she couldn't deal with that now. She glared at him through her tears and ran out the door, leaving the painting behind. Sasha watched from the doorway.
"Why did you bring her here?" he asked angrily, even though he was confused about Buffy's last words.
"You needed to talk. Angel, go after her. Please. You need to talk," she begged.
"She obviously didn't want to talk," he said coldly.
"Angel, please... ," she began before he interrupted her.
"Sasha, if you want to keep your job I suggest you leave. And leave my personal affairs alone." She looked at him, hurt, but nodded and walked out of his office. He watched her go before slumping down and burying his head in his heads and started crying. There was nothing he could do now.
Part Fifteen
Though she was in no condition to drive, she drove anyway. She drove to the cliff. She parked her car and got out, walking over to the edge. She sat, watching the waves crash below, letting the memories wash over her.
~ ~ She had gone to their cliff in tears. Their first big fight, she thought it was over now. She watched the waves, wishing that he were there. Gently, arms encircled her waste and she could smell his cologne on her neck as he held her close.
"How did you find me here?"
"If I was blind I would see you."
"Stay with me?"
"Forever, that's the whole point." She turned angrily at him then.
"How can you say that?" she cried, "People break up everyday for every reason. How can you say that you'll be with me forever?"
"Because I can feel it, Buffy. Because you're mine and I'm yours. There's nothing in this world that could keep me away," he answered.
~ ~
Buffy laughed at the memory bitterly. "Sure," she whispered, "Nothing."
"I used to believe that, too," his voice broke through. She turned to face him, tears streaming down her face.
"What do you want?" she asked quietly.
"Sasha says we need to talk," he replied.
"Really. I don't think there's anything to talk about," she snapped.
"There's a lot to talk about Buffy," he answered quietly.
"You didn't have to have them tell me you were dead if you wanted to end it. I think I would have handled it better if you just broke it off," she said icily.
"What are you talking about?" he asked confused.
"When I woke up, my father was there. You told him to tell me that you were dead. What else would it be?" she answered. Angel looked up at her, tears springing from his eyes.
"No, Buffy. You told your father that you hated me, that you never wanted to see me again. I put you in a wheelchair," he said softly.
"No, I didn't. What are you talking about?" she cried.
"I came to the hospital after the accident to see you. We were taken to different ones and when I got there, your father told me that you never wanted to see me again. I have no idea what you're talking about. I was never dead and I would never tell anyone to tell you that," he replied. Her eyes filled with tears as she realized what he was saying.
"You mean?" she gasped. He moved to her, crushing her to him and kissed her fervently. When he broke away from her, he wiped her tears away.
"I never died, Buffy. Not physically, anyway. I died in the moment when you were gone from my life," he whispered.
"I'm so sorry, Angel. He told me you were dead. If I had known, I would've come after you. I swear," she breathed.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you," she replied before kissing him again. They broke away, smiling.
"You still my girl?" he asked softly.
"Always," she replied. She kissed him again. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against her own. There was still a lot to work out, that they knew, including her father, but they were willing to do it. She had once told him, "When two people are destined to be together, nothing can keep them apart. Not forever anyway." Forever was for together.
Go to the sequel, Walk On
Send feedback to Lynsey
Back to the Fanfiction Archive