Hiya! Okay, I'm a little too perky in that. I'm in serious pain and I'm sure all of you who want to spork me are glad. But here is the next part. It's heavy on the angst as well, but I hope you'll still enjoy it. Please be gentle. I already hurt for some reason. And I'm sending it early! I still need a trilogy title, though. Suggestions?
Disclaimer: I own Chloe. That's all. Joss owns all things BtVS/Angel, Victor Hugo owns Les Miserables, Cameron MacKintosh owns the Broadway production of Les Miserables, Ayn Rand owns Atlas Shrugged, and J.K. Rowling owns all things Harry Potter.
Rating: PG (heavy on the angst)
Spoilers: Mentions of IWRY, other than that, I don't think so
Summary: Third after You Were Mine and Cold Day, read those first
Distribution: BA_Fluff, Leonie, B/A Coalition, anyone else, ask and it shall be given
Thanx: Everyone
Author's Note: I'm sorry I'm being mean and evil, it had to be written.
Author's Note 2: I mention the book Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, what I say about it really happened with a guy my dad knows.
Feedback: Yes, please

Chloe Angelus sat in her car, waiting for the light to turn green. She was tired and she was seven months pregnant. Sitting in her car was a chore as she almost didn't fit behind the wheel anymore. Almost, not quite, but almost. The light turned green. Taking her foot off the break she moved forward in the car. She didn't even see the truck.

* * * * *

The phone rang. Angel picked it up. "Hello?"

"Angel? It's Kate . . . ," she began.

"Hey. What's up?" he asked.

"Angel, um, I don't even know where to begin," she said.

"What is it, Kate?" he was getting nervous.

"I was called to an accident scene earlier today. The car was totaled. It was Chloe's. She was killed instantly, Angel. So was the baby. I'm so sorry," she whispered into the phone.

"No. Not Chloe. She's fine. It's a mistake. It has to be someone else," he cried.

"It was her, Angel. We found her I.D. and we ran the plates, just to make sure. I'm so sorry, so sorry," she said gently, as a few tears made their way down her cheeks for her old friend.

"No . . . no . . . no . . . ," he cried, dropping the phone. He fell down to his knees, his head in his hands sobbing. "Chloe! No! Why? Why? I finally found you, finally found you . . ."

* * * * *

Buffy let herself in with Cordelia's key. The office was completely deserted, but that was to be expected. She had seen Angel at the funeral earlier that month, but he had been so unconscious with grief that she didn't think he even saw her. Cordelia was still very worried about him and asked her if she would go see him; he wouldn't talk to Cordelia.

She made her way downstairs and was met by a loud crash. She ran into the room where she found Angel slumped against the wall, a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, and the apartment looking like it had blown up.

"Angel," she said gently, kneeling down next to him.

"What?" he slurred, bitterness very evident in his voice.

"Come on, you need a shower," she said quietly as she forced him up.

"Why? What's the point?" he muttered angrily.

"What would Chloe want you to do, Angel?" she asked, looking into his bloodshot eyes.

"Don't," he all but growled

"Don't what? Talk about her? Do you really want to forget her all that bad?"

"Yes," he sobbed, "I want to forget it all. Shannon, Darla, Dru, you, Chloe, everything. I've lost it all, why the hell can't I forget it all?"

"Because it's life," she answered gently.

"You forgot," he growled.

"What? Your birthday?" she asked, clearly confused.

"No. A day that you promised you'd never forget. A day full of humanity and kisses in the sunlight and ice cream and making love on my kitchen table. We broke it remember? And you promised me over and over that you wouldn't forget even though they said you would. A part of me actually believed that you would remember," he spat at her bitterly, his voice thick with drunkenness.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Angel, but you are very drunk and you're taking a shower," she instructed as she lifted him up, taking on all of his weight. She led him to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. "You're going to take a shower. I hope I don't have to put you in there with your clothes on. I'm gonna go out and make you some coffee to get you sober." She walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

He watched her leave through a drunken haze. Staggering, he stood up and peeled away his clothes. He stepped into the shower, letting the hot water beat against his skin. He stood there as the water cleansed his body and cleared his senses a bit.

* * * * *

The coffee was made and Buffy was sitting in a chair, waiting for him. The shower was still going. She figured that shower was needed more to let go for a minute than to cleanse his body. The pain of the accident was still very fresh. After a few more minutes she heard the shower turn off. She had quietly left some clean clothes on the sink while he was in there for him to change into. A minute later, he walked out in them.

"Sit," she instructed. He sat. She poured him a cup of the freshly made coffee and gave him the mug.

"I don't want to talk, Buffy," he muttered.

"I'm not here to talk. I'm here to make you take a shower and to give you some coffee and to take the Jack Daniels away. I just want to make sure you're . . . alive," she responded gently.

"Alive," he scoffed.

"Alright, breathing," she replied.

"I'm breathing," he retorted hostilely.

"Okay, then. I'm gonna go. If you need anything, food, shampoo, etc. I'll be here. Angel, please call me. I just want to help," she said quietly as she stood. A piece of paper with a phone number landed on the table and she was gone. He looked around for the bottle he had when she came in, he found it in the sink, it's contents poured out.

* * * * *

"He's not doing good, Cor, he's still drunk," Buffy sighed as she sat down on the brunette's couch.

"It's only been a month," Cordelia replied.

"I know, but with the past he's got. All the pain and heart ache, I'm afraid this will push him over the edge," she answered.

"But he's survived it before," the other girl replied.

"Yeah, it took him over two hundred years to do it," Buffy answered, looking doubtful.

"Oh, right," Cordy replied, matching Buffy's doubtful look.

* * * * *

Angel never called her. Instead about once a week she went over to his apartment with food, made him take a shower, made him some coffee, and left. And every time she came over after Angel had his shower, he would find that she had again drained the contents of his Jack Daniels and left the empty bottle in the sink.

"Hello," Buffy said. She'd been doing this for about two months now.

"Hello," he answered. She didn't need to take him to the bathroom anymore, forcing a shower on him. When she got there, he dutifully trudged to the bathroom and took one.

"Where's the bottle?" she asked, as she always did.

"There isn't one," he answered. She looked at him surprised. "I was sick of spending money on it to only have you come and dump it down the sink."

"Oh," she replied, "Go. Shower." And he went. And she made the coffee and a sandwich and waited for him to come out.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked after he came out of the bathroom and sat down to his meal.

"Because I care about you, Angel. No matter how badly I treated you in the past, I always cared about you and I want you to be okay," she answered, picking up her hand bag, kissing him on the cheek as she always did and said, as she always did, "Call if you need anything," and left.

* * * * *

"You don't need to do this anymore. I'm taking showers regularly by myself and I can make coffee," he told her one morning after she arrived.

"When was the last time you went grocery shopping for anything, but Jack?" she asked, the same worried look on her face that had been there the three months she'd been coming. He gave her a blank look,

"See. You need groceries and I bring them."

"I'll manage," he replied.

"I bring other things, too," she said, pulling out a book. It was an old, very worn book resembling one of the books you would find in Giles' library or even his own.

"I have enough books, Buffy," he mumbled.

"Ah, yes, but you do not have this one," she answered. Handing him the book, he noticed that she was right. "I looked through your library last week while you were in the shower and I noticed that you didn't have this. I think you should read it. Even I read it." Which was an amazing feat considering the book she handed him was an original print, unabridged version of Les Miserables.

"I've read it before," he stated.

"But have you read it with this?" she asked producing a double CD of the production on Broadway. He shook his head. "The music adds more to the story. Listen to it first and then sit down and read it again." She smiled gently at him, reminded him to call, kissed his cheek, and left.

The next week she brought another book.

"A friend of mine at work told me about this book. Said that whenever he's depressed, he reads it. It gives him hope," she explained as she put Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand on the table.

And she continued bring him books with his groceries. They piled up until he finally obliged and started reading them. Slowly the pile went from unread to half unread, half read, til he waited for her next selection weekly.

"What did you bring today?" he asked, smiling ever so lightly for the first time in months. Buffy grinned and started digging through her bag.

"Aha!" she said, producing her selection. He looked at the book and back at her with a slightly amused expression on his face.

"You brought me Harry Potter?"

"Hey, don't laugh! I've read all seven of the Harry Potter books and I totally understand the craze that followed them! They are really good," she answered. She handed him the book, knowing that even though it was Harry Potter, it would take his mind off of everything.

"Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone," he muttered.

"Don't laugh and when you put that down, you'll be so ready for the next one. I guarantee it," she said lightly.

And when she came back the next week, he was ready. "Where's the next one?" he practically jumped on her.

"Next one what?" she asked lightly.

"Where's my book?" he asked, getting a little antsy.

"I thought you were too mature for Harry Potter," she teased.

"Oh, just give me the book!" he retorted. She laughed and dug through her bag, producing Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. "There you are," she said, handing it to him.

"Just tell me one thing: is Lord Voldemort the bad guy in this one, too?" he asked.

"Shh! Don't say his name!" she whispered secretly, implying an ongoing theme in the book where the characters won't say his name,

"and I'm not saying a word." For the first time in eight months, he chuckled. Buffy just smiled. She was glad to see him smile again. It was tinged with sadness and heartache, but it was still a smile.

"Alright, I've gotta run. Don't forget . . . ," she began, looking at him.

"Call if you need anything," he answered. She nodded, kissed his cheek, and left.

* * * * *

"So, how are you today?" she asked gently. It was the year anniversary.

"Been better," he said through his tears.

"I brought you something," she replied.

"You always bring something," he answered.

"Yeah, but I never brought this," she replied, producing a bottle of Jack Daniels, his favorite, "I usually dumped it, remember?"

"Why is it okay, now?" he asked bitterly.

"Because it is. I'm gonna be your designated pourer though and you only get the one bottle. Drink it wisely," she answered, pouring him his first glass. He drank the first glass in one gulp, feeling the burning amber liquid go down and holding out the glass for another.

She obliged.

* * * * *

Buffy was sitting in her favorite chair in her living room, doing some work she had brought home. Concentrating on the sketches beforeher it took a heavy knock at the door to bring her out of her daze. Getting up, she answered the door.

"Angel? What's up?" she asked, surprised to see him standing in her doorway.

"I'm ready to talk," he whispered. It had been a year and a half since Chloe died. She motioned him into her apartment, gesturing to him to sit on the couch. She sat back down in her chair, moving her work to the floor behind her. She waited for him to speak first.

"I miss her," he choked.

"I know," she nodded.

"I miss her so much it hurts. I still feel like I'm being torn apart inside. Every time the phone rings, that conversation goes through my mind and I debate answering it because I'm afraid and it hurts so much," he said in broken words.

"Tell me about her," Buffy said gently. He looked up at her, a bittersweet look in his eyes.

"She laughed at me anytime I started brooding. She refused to let me do it. Always making a joke about it. She hated cleaning the kitchen, I mean, utterly hated it. She told me once that if she could get away with it, she'd only clean it once a year," he smiled at the memories as each one came and he spoke, "She loved to read. Books, magazines, anything. She always had a book or magazine in her hand. And the music she played. Sometimes, I hated it so much. She was the worst channel surfer with a radio that has ever existed. She'd go from Garth Brooks to Stone Temple Pilots to the Beatles to Celine Dion in a half an hour. And movies, how she loved to watch movies. Sometimes, she'd rent four or five movies at a time and watch them all in one night. She loved doing that. I miss it, Buffy. I miss it so much."

Buffy moved over to the couch and took him in her arms. "I know, I know," she murmured as she held him and he cried, "I know."

* * * * *

He knelt at her grave site. Fingering the engravings on the tombstone.

Chloe Angelus
1980-2009
Friend, Wife, Lover
All My Love

"Hey, love. I miss you. It's been two years and I still miss you. But I'm alive and I'll keep living because I have to. I think, no, I know that I'll always miss you. You'll always have a piece of my heart. But," he choked on the tears as he said the words, "I know that you'd want me to move on. To even love again and I'm going to try. I'll never forget you and our life, my love."

He wiped the tears away and ran his fingers along the words one last time before placing the yellow roses of the grave and walking away.

As he walked a figure began to shimmer over the flowers. She picked them up, inhaling their scent and looking to the man who left them. "I know, love. Go find her. It's time. I love you," Chloe whispered, her voice clear as she shimmered away.

Angel turned, thinking he had heard something, but when he turned nothing was there except the sun shining down on her grave. He knew that she had set him free. "I love you, too."

* * * * *

He was stroking her hair. "Gold silk," he murmured.

"Ha!" she laughed, "If you only knew it's natural state of brown."

"Buffy?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"I missed you," Angel answered.

"I missed you, too," she replied, giving him a soft kiss on the lips, "I missed you, too."

They had found their way back to each other again, as they were always destined to do. Nothing serious had happened between them yet, they weren't married, they didn't live together, and they didn't know where this was going to go, but for now they were just content being in each other's arms. They were home. At last.

Okay, I wanted to explain a little better where this fic came from. I already told you this was my Sanctuary rage fic, but it was more too. It was after a whole season of BtVS with negativity for Angel all being topped of with Sanctuary. It pushed me over the edge and I couldn't help but think that Angel deserved someone better. He deserved S2's Buffy, not S4's. This is in retaliation to THAT Buffy. I am still as ardent as ever in my shippyness (although I know how Carrie feels and I'm not going to get into that here). I still believe that Buffy and Angel are soulmates. Witness this fic, I killed yet another of Angel's wives and child. I also feel that Angel will probably move on in a way. To a place where he can be happy for Buffy like I wrote in You Were Mine. And I do think that would be his greatest challenge. However, I also think that he'll never love her any less. This story was expressing the fact that she had moved on even if she still loved him as much as she does and Angel would have to as well because he *HAD* to. There were other things in his life. Buffy and Angel forever! I'll always believe it and I proved it with the end. No matter what happens on screen, in my world they will end up together. I seriously thought about not having this end this way, but I couldn't. "If you love someone set them free and if they don't come back it wasn't meant to be." They simply set each other free so that they could find their way back home. And the end, in a way, they have to fall in love again, but you can write your own end to this and their story. Sorry if I trampled on your hearts for too long. I had to write it.

Send feedback to Lynsey

Back to the Fanfiction Archive