DISCLAIMER: Yeah, yeah, Joss/Marti (the hellbitch)/David/Tim/UPN/Mutant Enemy/Sandollar are the big owner people, and I'm not. I make no money, I own nothing, don't sue, yada yada yada. But be assured that if I *did* own, all you B/A shippers out there would be a *lot* happier.
RATING: PG-13
DISTRIBUTION: Fanfiction.net, B/A fluff list, anyone's who's archived it, if you want it, go for it, and soon...my own personal website! Whoo hoo, do the Dance of Joy.
FEEDBACK: Would be ever so lovely, and would make me love you 'til the end of time. *grin*
DEDICATION: Most definitely Kate, my best friend who's also my ventilator/evil librarian *wicked grin*/confidant/fellow Princess Bride-er/fellow Marti despiser/fellow Moulin Rouge-er/fellow Buffy obsesser. You're just a general person of amazingness, and the conversation between Buffy and Willow was in *big* part inspired by you. *mushy friendship moment*
TIMELINE: Season Three, directly after Angel breaks up with Buffy, just as she's spilling her broken heart to Willow.
SYNOPSIS: In keeping with my fervent "maintain the denial" mentality (*growls at the hellbitch who for some reason goes by the name Marti Noxon*), I rewrote the S3 episode "The Prom." And after reading both Laura and Trixie Firecracker's post prom angsty fics (I love you both very much, but you are in serious need of a strong anti-depressant *grin*) I decided I didn't want to write something *too* angsty. So I rewrote the whole gosh darned thing, completely, in a big way. One of those things I had floating around in my head and wanted to get out. A "Molly's very bored in history" fic. Which happens a lot. And, I'll freely admit it - this is not my best work, on account of I'm doped up on cold medicine, and also on account of I wanted some fluff, and I didn't care how easily the conflicts were resolved to get it. *grin*
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Important things to know: 1. Xander is not taking Anya to the prom. Way important to plotline. Apologies to all rabid X/A fans, nothing personal meant by this. I just care about B/A way more than I care about them. 2. Buffy didn't say "I think he's right. In the long run, I think he's right." And Willow did not respond with "I do, too. I mean, I tried to hope, but..." Because best friends should be far more supportive than that. That's why they're called 'best friends'. And when your best friend is sitting there with a shattered heart, you don't just go 'Yup, your ex honey totally did the right thing by crushing your soul in a sewer. I mean, it was only a matter of time before that relationship hit the ground anyway, right?' Apologies to all fans of those lame ass lines. 3. Joyce did NOT have her little chat with Angel. I don't care what anybody else tells me about how she had to do it, or whatever. It was *mean*. Your daughter's eighteen years old - let h! er make up her own damn mind about what's right for her. 4. I did keep a few sections of the episode I wanted, borrowing a little bit of dialogue from hellbitch Marti. Besides that, I kept the first half (except for the Joyce/Angel chat), and the stuff about the hellhounds, as sucky and contrived as that was.

I wanted to see you walking backwards
And get the sensation of you coming home
I wanted to see you walking away from me
Without the sensation of you leaving me alone
~ Counting Crows, Time and Time Again

"I can't breathe, Will. I feel like I can't breathe."

With the words she'd been desperate to say since last night, since Angel had shattered her heart in a sewer and killed every dream she'd ever harbored...when the feelings she'd kept bottled inside finally broke free, Buffy lowered her head into Willow's lap and sobbed, tears raw and salty and stinging her face bitterly.

//Because if I'm mourning him...if I'm crying, it means I know it's over, that he wasn't kidding. It's really over, forever, and Angel, oh, God, Angel, please Angel...//

Willow stroked her best friend's hair soothingly, not knowing what she could possibly say to make anything better. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen Buffy cry. She was so strong, Willow had believed she could take anything life threw at her and keep on kicking. But she'd never thought Angel would be one of the things she'd witness Buffy lose.

Her heart wrenched as she felt Buffy's tears soak through her jeans, at seeing her best friend so utterly destroyed. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair! She'd already given up so much. Why should she be forced to give up the one person in the world she really loved, too?

Because Buffy *did* really love Angel, as much as Willow herself loved Oz, she was sure of it. And Angel *had* to love her the same way, because if he didn't...besides the fact that Willow would kick his pale butt *herself* if he'd only been playing around with Buffy's feelings (which, hardly likely, but *still*...), if he didn't, he wouldn't be pulling this 'leaving for your own good' crap. Because that's all it was, it was a big honking load of crap.

"Angel, Angel," Buffy whimpered, hardly even aware his name had escaped from her throat.

"Oh, Buffy...I'm so sorry, Buffy, shhhh," Willow soothed, totally blocked on anything else to say. //What *is* there to say?// she wondered. //What would I want Buffy to say if Oz was leaving me?// Just the *thought* sent icky little shivers down her spine, and she brushed the feeling away quickly, concentrating instead on Buffy's current state of misery.

After a long while, Buffy's tears spent themselves, and she gradually quieted. She sat up slowly, leaned against the headboard, and swiped half heartedly at her red, swollen eyes with the back of her hand. The vulnerable look on her face tugged Willow's heart once more. She looked like a lost, frightened child, and more than anything, Willow wished she knew some kind of magick that would help ease her best friend's pain. "Feel better?" she asked tentatively, knowing the answer to the question before she even asked.

Buffy tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Loads," she lied.

Willow patted her knee sympathetically. "I wish I knew the words to make it all good again...but it's like I'm listening to a song. And I know the tune, but I don't know the lyrics." She brightened. "I could hum. I *do* know how to hum. Not very well, 'cause I'm kinda tone deaf...but, humming. It's an option."

"You don't have to hum," Buffy assured her. "I'm just glad you're here. I couldn't...I couldn't be alone."

"Well, then I'm glad I'm here, too," Willow said, shifting position to Buffy's side and leaning on the headboard next to her. "But I don't think I'm being very comforting."

"At least you're trying."

"I am," Willow agreed. "I'm making an honest attempt. Maybe I could try and be mean...not to you, obviously, but about him. I could be mean! I could say many verbally scarring things about that bad person called Angel," she suggested, jutting out her chin. "As for example...he's...bad. He's a bad, bad, bad person of...badness."

"It's not his fault," Buffy said quietly.

But her game attempt at anger had struck a chord in Willow, and suddenly, she was ready to argue. "Oh, please, it's *so* his fault!" she exclaimed. "This is such *garbage*! Okay, I mean, I know things are hard for you guys sometimes, but that's *it*? It's hard, so he's suddenly riding the midnight train to...somewhere? Where does the midnight train go, again?"

"Georgia. In the song, I mean. It's Georgia. The midnight train to Georgia," Buffy said tiredly.

Willow continued on, not bothering to listen to the response to her question. "Since when has love ever been *easy*, anyway? It's *supposed* to be work! And he's being a big, wimpy, not working person! Buffy, he *loves* you! You guys have had The Big True Love for three years now, and he can't just *go*! It's *wrong*, and...wrong-er!"

"Will - "

"And what about the prom?" The expression of righteous fury suddenly dropped from Willow's face, quickly becoming replaced by anxiety. "Oh, Buffy, you're still planning to go, aren't you?" Her best friend's silence said it all. "Buffy, you *have* to go! It's the *prom*! You don't just skip the prom because - "

"Because I'd be spending the night hovering over the food table with Giles and Wesley?" she replied half heartedly.

"Actually, I think Wesley's taking Cordelia...and that's neither here nor there, really," Willow hurried to cover. "And, okay, hovering, maybe, but we'd hover with you! It'd be all of us, standing in a hover, having hover-y fun. Me and Oz and you and Xander, and..." Willow's eyes suddenly lit up. "You and Xander," she repeated slowly.

Buffy's eyes widened. "You are *seriously* wigging me out, Willow," she said, disbelieving. "You want me to go to the prom with *Xander*?"

"Well, he doesn't have a date, and - "

"Will," Buffy interrupted. "This is me. Sitting here, with my heart pretty much just yanked, still beating, out of my chest. And your solution is to slap a big Band Aid over it, kick up my heels, and party hearty with *Xander*?"

"You'd have fun!" Willow protested. "Big fun would be had! And fun is just what the doctor ordered right now."

"Then the doctor needs to be sued for malpractice." The pair lapsed into silence for awhile, Buffy trying for the thousandth time since last night to forget about the ache in her heart, the empty space in her soul, and Willow trying to come up with a convincing argument.

"Buffy, I know this is hard," she finally said, choosing her words carefully. "I don't know *how* hard, because...I mean, the man I love never...you know. But, what I do know? If you sit in your room, all alone, nothing's going to get better. It's just not. Besides that, we want you there with us. And I know how much you were looking forward to - "

"I was looking *forward* to going with Angel," Buffy interrupted quietly. "I was looking forward to getting to live in the world for one night, be a normal girl with a wonderful boyfriend. I was looking forward to finally getting to show him off to everybody, I was looking forward to falling in love with him all over again when he showed up at my house in a tux, with a corsage, and I was looking forward to having my one perfect high school moment. The one you see in all the Molly Ringwald movies. Where the guy and the girl dance together to some cheesy love song in the gym, and it's totally dopey, but they're so happy they could care less."

She paused for a long time before going on. "And now you want me to try and play out all those fantasies with Xander in the starring role? You want Xander to have to spend the night knowing every second I was spending with him, I'd wish I was spending with someone else?" she asked, quiet steel in her voice.

"I think Xander's so desperate to avoid Anya's rapidly growing, not so subtle hints, that'd he'd care less," Willow replied gently. "And I think he'd know that you didn't mean anything more than friendship by it. He won't read anything into it, he'll be happy, you'll have fun, and you won't have to worry about any pressure at the end of the night."

Buffy offered a weak smile, not commenting one way or the other.

A tiny beep sounded from Willow's watch, and she pushed back her sleeve and frowned. "Darn it. I've got to get home. Mom's planning this big family communication dinner thing. Are you gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine," Buffy promised. "You go. I'll give you a call later, okay?"

"All right." Impulsively, Willow leaned forward and gave her best friend a hug. "Everything will work out, Buffy. You'll see."

Buffy hugged back, fighting the urge to burst into tears once more. "I know," she managed, not meaning it at all. "See you in class tomorrow." She settled back onto her bed and leaned her chin on her knees, staring ahead at nothing, an expression of abject misery on her face.

"Bye," Willow said softly, creeping out the door and gently shutting it behind her. She wasn't sure if Buffy had even heard her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"You want me to do *what*?" Xander yelped the next day. "Willow, have you lost your *mind*?"

"She sounds pretty lucid to me," Oz interjected calmly, settling back into the couch of the student lounge.

"Thank you!" Willow said to her boyfriend. Then she turned back to Xander. "And I think I explained perfectly clearly what I want you to do. C'mon, Xand, don't you think you'd have fun?"

"Oh, I'm not saying I wouldn't have fun. I'd have the most fun ever. I'd be giddy with joy for the whole two seconds it would take for Deadboy to come along and RIP OUT MY THROAT WITH HIS BARE HANDS! Seriously, Will, you've been spending too much time playing with your little Wicca herb things. They're dissolving your brain stem and making you talk crazy talk."

"Xander, I'm not crazy! It's just what Buffy needs to get her mind off things right now. A good old fashioned dance with her bestest friends! I thought everything through, very carefully. We make it a nice, normal, stress free evening, complete with no mention of Angel. We get her mind off her broken heart for five hours, wherein the healing process can begin. This plan is totally guaranteed to be success. It's like the D-Day invasion, except without the guns and the mines and the death and stuff."

"Now you're sounding quixotic," Oz commented, taking his girlfriend's hand.

Willow glared at him, though not releasing her grip on his hand. "I am *not* quixotic," she insisted. "I am so far away from being quixotic."

"Yeah, buddy, Willow's healthy as a horse. If she caught anything, she caught it from you," Xander defended. Willow turned her head to look at him, and he shrugged his shoulders. "'Quixotic'. Means the same thing as a light brush with mono, am I right? Of course I'm right. I'm Knowledge Boy."

"It means 'idealistic'," Willow said, managing to suppress her grin. "Oz thinks I'm being too hopeful."

"Oh. Well, you're being that, too."

"*Anyway*," she continued impatiently. "I'm only asking for one little thing. And...come on, Xander. We can't let Buffy wallow on prom night. All I'm asking is for you to help me. Help *her*. Plus, it gives you a legitimate reason to turn Anya down."

Xander sighed in defeat. "Okay. Okay. I know when I'm outgunned. I'm powerless against the wily charms of Willow Rosenberg. Besides, there's worse things than escorting Buff to the prom."

"Thanks," she said sincerely.

"You're enticing like that," Oz told her. "Wily and charming."

Willow's grin broadened, and her cheeks flushed with happiness at her boyfriend's compliment. She bent her head close to Oz's and whispered into his ear, ending her response with a sweet, soft kiss to his lips.

"Secrets, secrets are no fun..." Xander sulked at the happy couple.

Willow smiled superiorly at him. "That wasn't a secret. It's just something I didn't want you to hear."

"Will, that's like the textbook definition of a secret!" he protested.

"There's secrets now?" Buffy asked, overhearing the tail end of the conversation as she approached. "That's not allowed." She plunked into the armchair next to Xander's and slung her messenger bag to the ground. Willow was pleased to see that all traces of the tears of last night were gone from Buffy's face. Her eyes didn't have their usual sparkle, but her outfit was neat, and her hair was twisted stylishly in a knot on the top of her head. "So what's the what, guys? Don't leave me hanging. Share the secrets."

"No secrets," Willow said hurriedly, feeling her face flush. For the millionth time, she wished she was a better liar. "What secrets could we *possibly* be keeping from you?"

"When you talk like that? Lots of them. C'mon, dish."

"Hey, don't we have that thing?" Oz said casually to Willow, trying to give her an out.

"Oh! Right! That thing...the important thing! The thing we're supposed to go do! So we should go do it. Now." She stood up quickly, tugging Oz to his feet with her. "We'll see you later!"

"After we do the thing," Oz added helpfully, steering Willow away.

Buffy sighed. "So, clearly I'm walking conversation stopper girl today," she commented.

"You're at least an attractive walking conversation stopper girl," Xander reassured her. "So how 'bout you? What's up with the Buff?" he asked, feigning casual interest.

"Willow told you, didn't she?" Buffy sighed, noting the forced tone of his inquiry.

"Willow? Told who what? I mean, me. Told me what? Was Willow s'posed to tell me something? 'Cause if she *was*, she slacked off. There should be major repercussions due to the slackage, and - "

"Contrary to popular belief, Xand? I'm not stupid."

"Yeah. She told us," Xander said reluctantly. "And...I mean, I know I'm not exactly president of the 'I Love Angel' club, anyway, but I could seriously rip his head off for hurting you like this. Except, I might need someone acting as backup to finish the job, considering it would take about point two seconds for him to snap me in half if I tried."

"You're so sweet," Buffy drawled. "Thanks, but...I'm doing okay."

Xander regarded her affectionately. "Liar."

"*Terrible* liar," she agreed. "But I don't want to talk about it. I had a hard enough time getting out of bed this morning without having to rehash the gory details. I've gone over it too many times in my head, anyway."

"I hear that," he sympathized. "So let's talk about something else, then."

"Hit me with your topic," she responded.

"Okay...how 'bout the upcoming, glamorous, Sunnydale High Prom of '99?"

"Hit me with your next topic."

"Do you want to go to said prom with me?" he blurted.

Buffy's mouth fell open. "That's not a topic," she managed to say. "I wanted a *new* topic, and that's a continuation of the old."

Xander shrugged. "I said what I felt." He gave her a boyish grin. "So say what you feel," he encouraged.

"Xander..."

"But before you say what you feel, let me mention it would be in a strictly friendly capacity," he rushed to add. "This is *not* about me trying to sweep you off your feet, all romantic, as it would have been sophomore year. I'm way, way beyond that. I've matured. This is about me not wanting to look like a big dateless loser in front of the entire graduating class."

"Xander - "

"Well, I could go with Anya, but, shudder, shudder. And I'd rather go with you, 'cause I think we'd have fun." Struck by sudden inspiration, he bravely forged on ahead. "And if you *want*, you could even get me to sign something. Put it in writing - I, Xander Harris, the undersigned, promise not to try to cop a feel, not to embarrass you, and also, not to bust into any of my super-fly moves on the dance floor. I will behave as Giles must have behaved when taking his date to the prom in the Mesozoic era. I will give you a warm handshake instead of a good night kiss. I'll even ask permission before I shake your hand warmly at the end of the evening. So...?"

Buffy felt the faintest edge of a smile tug at her lips. "Did Willow put you up to this?" she asked. "Because she brought it up last night, so I thought..."

"Well, she might have...you know, casually mentioned something about it. But the bulk of this plan was my own personal brainchild. What do you say, Buff? Will you go with you old pal Xander, and make his sorry life that much brighter?"

The grin he gave her was so hopeful, so friendly, that she couldn't turn him down. "I would very much like to go with my old pal Xander," she told him. "I didn't want to go as a big dateless loser, either. And who knows. It could even turn out to be fun." //And Will's right. Fun would be of the good. I can forget Angel for one night. At least, I can try...//

Xander leapt to his feet and let out a whoop of victory, tugged Buffy out of her chair and spun her around. "Yes!" he cheered. "Hey, Sunnydale! Guess who *I'm* going to prom with? Ha, and none of you thought a loser like Xander Harris would ever snag such a babe after Cordelia," he boasted to the crowd.

"Xander, remember how you promised not to embarrass me?" Buffy said, her face starting to flush as milling students turned all attention on them.

"Uh, yes?"

"Now's a good time to start. Otherwise, my elbow gets introduced to your ribcage. In a bad way."

"Got it. No more embarrassment. Just concentration on the nice, *normal* evening we're gonna have in a few days."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Normal evening, my well proportioned ass. Of *course* this little creepo couldn't lay off the prom. Because it's Sunnydale, and naturally, nothing goes right, *ever*, here. Does no one see proms as *sacred* things anymore? Things you just don't screw with?" Cordelia scowled and flopped into one of the chair's surrounding the library table.

"I see prom as a sacred thing," Willow said helpfully, from her perch in front of her laptop. "And I certainly wouldn't screw with it. But Tucker Wells, on the other hand..." She clucked her tongue disapprovingly and turned back to her 'net search.

"Has developed a massive 'Carrie' complex," Xander added. "So we're focusing on how to put the kibosh on his little devildog plans, yes?"

"*I'm* focusing on putting the kibosh on his devildog plans," Buffy called from the staircase where she had curled up with one of Giles' heavier books. "You guys have prom-y fun plans to plan for tomorrow night."

"You don't want help?" Willow asked, a little hurt. "Also, you don't want to help plan the plans?" //Which, bad. 'Cause the plan planning was supposed to be a 'mind off Angel' exercise.//

"I think I can handle it. And I'd rather focus on making sure the entire student body doesn't get turned into Purina One Dog Chow than planning plans," Buffy responded. "After that, witness my being Plan Girl." //Besides that, getting to work off some angst in a good violent spree...never thought I'd be so happy to go a'slaying.//

"And, with the prom taking place tomorrow night, it does seem to be a matter of some import," Giles said, cleaning his glasses. "Meaning stopping the hellhounds, obviously, not being sure your shoes are color coordinated to your dress."

"Way ahead of you, G - Man. Got my shoes all dyed last month," Xander said mischievously.

"Anyway," Buffy interrupted. "Giles, you said these things are big on the brain scarfing, right?"

"Yes, the hellhound was bred to feed off the brains of its foes. I believe we've covered this particular point already," Wesley broke in, his tone pompous as ever. "Shouldn't we be focusing on other aspects?"

Cordelia sighed. "You're so intelligent, Wesley," she said admiringly. "And the way you just take charge of the group, you know, get us back on track, is so - "

"Nauseating?" Xander interrupted innocently. Cordelia glared at him.

"Look, Harris - "

"Both of you just shut up for a minute, okay?" Buffy said, touching one hand to her temple. Her head was beginning to throb from the constant bickering...and from the noticeable lack of Angel occupying his usual space next to her, by the stairs. //It's only been three days, and it's not getting any better. How am I supposed to go through the rest of my life without...// She cut her own thoughts off abruptly, and turned her attention back to Giles. "But we're assuming these puppies are lacking a foe right now, though. So...brains. Any type of brains in particular?"

"Well, there's just the one butcher shop in Sunnydale," Oz contributed. "Mel's. Could be worth checking out."

"Good call," Buffy told him. She reached for her jacket and slipped it on. "So, I'm butcher bound. See if there's anything ol' Mel can let me know."

"When shall we expect you back?" Giles queried.

"Don't. If I get an address, I'll head over and deal with the doggies. If I don't, I'm going home, pulling out the Sunnydale directory, and making phone calls. Either way, I'll get this done tonight. No big."

"You sure you don't want company?" Xander pressed.

"I can handle it," Buffy responded, her voice a little strained. In truth, her friends, for all their good intentions, were starting to grate on her. Everyone's head was filled with dreams about the prom, and instead of joining in the fun, she could feel herself slowly dying inside. //A little alone time is probably the best thing right now.// "I'll call and check in after it's over." With that, she exited the library.

"She looks like she's doing better," Willow commented hopefully.

"I think so, too," Xander agreed. "With the 'watch me slay this and party' attitude...she's gettin' back to good."

"You guys are such idiots," Cordelia snorted. "I mean, seriously. Any moron can see that she's barely holding on. You don't just get over the love of your life in the span of a week, you know."

She went back to flipping through the copy of Cosmo she'd brought along, in lieu of more research. "I wouldn't be surprised if she just had a massive wig out fest and tried to kill herself or something."

Several angry faces swiveled in her direction at that, and Cordelia grew defensive. "Oh, what? Like that thought never occurred to anybody else?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The smell of blood and raw meat invaded Buffy's nostrils, made her eyes sting and stomach turn, but it was all worth it for the information the butcher was freely dolling out.

//After this, I am *so* going vegetarian. You'd think I'd be used to gore like this by now. Good to know I'm not completely desensitized to bloody animal parts. Just to bloody human ones.//

"Oh, yeah, I know this kid. Orders cow brains a couple times a week," Mel informed Buffy. "Here's the address." He scribbled it on the back of a greasy order form and pressed it into Buffy's waiting palm. "Good luck. This kid is *weird*."

"Thanks," she called, waving a goodbye as he turned back to the assembly line. She gave a faint grin at the slip of paper. "Aha, the game is afoot," she murmured under her breath in her best Sherlock Holmes accent. "Or, more like...aha, the game is a brain." Her corny little joke lifted her spirits somewhat, and she straightened, ready to head to Tucker's and give him a good kick in the ass.

Which was when her gaze fell on Angel.

Standing maybe five feet away, in a clinging white T-shirt and a dark leather jacket. He exchanged a wad of bills with a man in a white butcher coat, and accepted a package which she assumed to be full of blood.

Her heart skipped more than one beat, and her feet froze to the ground. If the cloying smell of the blood had gotten to her before, now it was overpowering. Just seeing him there, handsome and wonderful and being as much in love with him as ever...her senses screamed from having him so near.

//Oh, God, please, I can't do this, I'm not strong enough, don't let him look up, please, please...//

But God wasn't listening, or maybe he had long ago turned a deaf ear to her prayers. Angel looked up, met her eyes. His bag went slack in his hand, and she could read every single emotion she was feeling, mirrored identically in his eyes.

"What are....you...doing here?" he asked uncomfortably.

Buffy bristled a little at his question. "Could ask the same of you. Although, where did I think you got your blood - McPlasma's?"

He nodded in response to her question, making no move to reply any other way. Her eyes started to sting with unshed tears once more. //I've gotta get out of here, now, now, now, now...//

As she took a step forward to skirt around him, Angel's throat clenched tightly, and he bit his tongue to keep from letting the torrent of apologies and declarations of love and pleas for a second chance spill out of him. Aware of how selfish it was...he couldn't let her leave, not yet. He needed another minute, just to see her. The separation of the past few days had been like a hole torn through the very fabric of his soul, a piece ripped out of his heart, and if he could just focus on her, as far apart as he felt from her now...maybe it would ease the ache a little. "How are you?"

"Right as rain," she responded casually. His eyes bore into hers, and she felt an irrational anger swell inside of her. At the fact that he could crush her soul so completely, and still know her so well. "Don't look at me like that. I can lie to you if I want to now. We're ex, remember?" The words tasted bitter in her mouth as she flung them at him.

"If it means anything, I miss you," Angel said softly, hating himself for saying it. //You damn fool. Do something to make her hate you, don't force her to remember, love her enough to let her go...//

Buffy lifted a hand, cutting him off before he could cause her further pain. "Can we not? When I think about us, I sort of have this tendency to go catatonic...and I really can't afford that now." She shifted the piece of paper in her hand. "Gotta stop a crazy from pulling a Carrie at the prom."

"You're still planning to go?" he asked quietly.

She shrugged. "I bought a dress. And we've got the tickets already, so - "

"*We've*?" he interrupted, unable to keep the note of possessiveness and fierce jealousy out of his voice as he processed her word choice. //She's going with someone. We've been broken up for three days, seventy two hours, and already she's seeing other people. Nice to know I meant so much.//

//But this is what you wanted for her // a voice nagged in his head. //This is what you're leaving her to let her find, comfort in another man's arms, pleasure in another man's bed. And *look* at her, Angel, old boy. How long did you *think* it was going to be before someone was interested?//

//Not this soon!// the rest of him wept. //I didn't think it would happen so fast, I didn't think I'd have to see it happening...//

"Yeah. *We*," Buffy said, some dark part of her relishing his obvious pain. //Good. *Good*. Let him know what it feels like.// "Xander actually asked me. If I wanted to go. A couple days ago."

"Oh," he gritted. "Xander. You're going with Xander. How...nice."

"It is. Nice, I mean. He was very sweet when he asked. I think we'll have a pretty good time."

"You aren't worried you'll be sending him the wrong message?"

She tilted her head to the side, feigning confusion. "What kind of message do you mean?"

"That you're...interested in him?" Angel managed, his heart constricting painfully.

"Maybe that's the kind of message I *want* him to get," Buffy taunted, lying through her teeth. "Maybe I figured, well, hey, Xander's about as normal as they come. And you said I ought to find a *normal* guy, right? So...where's the problem? Point the problem out to me."

"Stop it, Buffy," he snapped, finally losing his cool. "Stop doing this."

"Stop what, telling it like it is?" she shot back. "I'm really sorry if you're getting *hurt*, Angel." She paused for a moment, then pressed on. "But maybe I'm sorrier that you didn't think what we had was something worth fighting for."

"How can you say that?" he said, his voice low. "You don't think I haven't woken up every single day and wished that things between us could be different? You think that I haven't wished I didn't *have* to leave you, because there's no other choice?"

"No, I don't," she replied bitterly. "I think you're looking to make this easier on yourself. Did you ever *once* ask me if this was what I wanted? Or did you just assume, 'hey, I'm 243 years old, I know what that stupid teenager Buffy needs far better than she *ever* could,'? Not that I'd be surprised if you did. After all, what could I *possibly* know about love and sacrifice?"

The anger rushed out of him suddenly, then, on hearing the raw, fresh agony in her voice. "Buffy..." he breathed, reaching out and resting his hand on her arm, fighting the urge to pull her body against his and kiss the hurt away, to dissolve the past, aching seventy two hours in a haze of tender caresses and murmured promises of love. "I never wanted to - "

She wrenched away from him. "Don't *touch* me," she tried to scream. But the words came out a choked sob. "Don't touch me. If you're going to leave, Angel, if I ever meant anything to you at all, do me a favor. Do it now. Don't wait 'til graduation, just *leave*, get out of this town and never call me or let me see you *ever* again. I love you, " she said brokenly, her voice cracking. "I love you like I've never loved anyone else, like I never *will* love anyone else. And you just gave up on me. On us. I can't...I can't...I just *can't*."

Forgetting the address she'd shoved into her pocket, she turned and sprinted into the night, feeling Angel watching every move she made as bitter tears spilled from her eyes.

She could feel his heart break as certain as she felt her own.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The shrill ringing of the phone jolted Xander from his deep slumber. "Uhhhhhhhh," he groaned, groping blindly for the phone on his nightstand. He stretched out, yawning, then grunted into the receiver. "Yeah?"

"Xand? It's me."

"Buff?" Suddenly awake, he sat up. "Hey, are you okay? We waited forever for you to check in last night. What's the ups here?"

"Nothing," she said, her voice sounding hoarse to his ears, her tone dull and defeated. "There's no ups. I got the address. But some...some stuff came up, and I kind of...forgot about the slayage."

"Stuff?" Xander gently pried. "Forgot? Buffy - "

"Nothing," she repeated, her voice still flat. "Anyway, the hellhounds are dropped today. I'm heading over to Tucker's after I swing by Giles' place. But I'm not sure how long it's gonna take so...is it cool if I just meet you there?"

"Meet me where?" he asked, confused. "This conversation's going to fast for me to follow at this early hour."

"It's two o'clock, Xander."

"Like I said, early hour. Meet? Where?"

"The prom. I don't want you to have to miss out on anything, and I may be a little late. So I'll meet you there, okay?"

"Sure," he replied, head whirring. "Are you sure you're okay? You sound sort of - "

"I've gotta book, Xand. Giles is probably freaking. I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Buffy," he repeated a little louder. "Does the sudden forgetting about the devildogs mean you ran into Ang - "

"See. You. Tonight." Click.

"Goodbye to you, too," Xander muttered into the phone, dropping the receiver down next to his bed. He flopped back onto his pillows and started at the ceiling glumly.

//Deadboy. That bastard. I swear, if I was just twenty pounds heavier...and a foot and a half taller...and had some understanding of how to fight...and I could maybe have some hand grenades, or a troop of Marines backing me up...I'd beat some sense into him.//

But he had to face facts. He wasn't twenty pounds heavier or a foot taller. He was just Xander, and there was no weapon he had to be able to convince Angel not to hurt Buffy like this. The only conceivable way he could beat Angel was if Angel had challenged him to a Twinkie eating contest.

Even though his personal dislike of the vampire was notorious, he couldn't help feeling the general wrongness of the whole situation. Angel. Leaving Buffy. It just didn't make sense.

The phone rang once more, and Xander grabbed it off the floor quickly, eager for the distraction from his depressing train of thought. "Hello?"

"You're up?" Willow said, sounding surprised. "It's only two o'clock."

"What can I say? I'm turning over a new leaf and becoming an early riser. What's going on, Wills?"

"I just got off the phone with Buffy," she replied, sounding distressed. "Xander, she's so...this plan isn't going to work. We coerced her into going to the prom, and she shouldn't have to go when she's still so grieve-y, and we're bad friends. We're *terrible* friends. *I'm* a terrible friend! I manipulated! I treated you guys like you were my pawns in a big game of chess! I should just go work for the Mayor I'm so evil."

"Will, calm down," he said reassuringly. "We were all off the mark on this one."

"But I still feel rotten," she said softly.

"I'm right there with ya, Rosenberg. But it's more a feeling of general rottenness with the sitch of him calling it quits on the two of them then it is a feeling of rottenness about myself."

"Oh."

"Need a translation?"

"Please."

"We've been going about this the wrong way," he explained. "We shouldn't be thinking of ways to get Buffy's mind off Deadboy. We should be thinking of ways to get Deadboy's mind back on Buffy."

"That sounds kind of like the manipulation angle again."

"That's because it is. And we're going to be manipulators." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "To shove my own personal feelings of major dislike about Deadboy aside here...we can't let him go through with this. We're going to meddle in their own personal business and get them back together."

"Xander, that's so...un-Xander-like of you. Do you mean you're going to help?" Willow asked hopefully.

"Are you kidding? I am at the crux of this plan. I'm the chief string-puller." He was quiet for a minute, then spoke up again. "We're her friends, Willow. Her best friends. And best friends don't let stuff like this happen without trying to put a stop to it."

"You're a good guy, Xander Harris," Willow told him proudly.

"I messed things up for them once," Xander said truthfully. "I didn't tell Buffy you were planning to restore his soul last year, and look how much it cost both of them. I'm not gonna screw up twice, not when it's this important. Now, here's what we're gonna do..."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Angel paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. It was seven thirty. The prom started at eight. Xander was probably arriving at Buffy's house right now. She would be smiling her sweet Buffy smile at him. He'd take her to dinner, make her laugh, wrap his arms around her warm body and hold her close to him while they danced, lower his face to hers for the customary kiss at the end of the night...

Angel grit his teeth and fought to keep the rage swelling in him under control. He had made his choice. He was leaving the only woman he'd ever loved to allow her to find the life she deserved.

What it would do to him to walk away from Buffy Summers wasn't the important thing.

He stared into the blazing fire, remembering the last time he'd held Buffy in his arms, in his bed. The sweet scent of her hair and the tiny sighs she let out in her sleep. The way she'd sleepily blinked up at him and murmured 'I love you', then rolled back into his arms, snuggled into his chest.

He was physically dead, but Buffy had made his soul come alive. And now that he was no longer in her world, he could feel the parts of him she'd resuscitated start to fade, wither and die at the ache in his heart without her.

Utterly defeated, Angel sat heavily and buried his head in his hands, letting memories of Buffy and her color and light wash over him, dragging him down further into a spiral of despair.

When he heard the knock at the door, for a moment, he didn't answer it. But practicality kicked in - if someone was there, it was someone who needed his help. Reluctantly, he dragged himself from the fire and went to the front hall, opening the door slowly. "Who's..." His voice died in his throat, and the deep anger he'd fought against rushed once more to the surface.

Xander Harris stood in his doorway, neatly tuxedoed, grinning inanely at him. "How's it hanging, Deadboy?" he asked brightly.

"Get out of my sight," Angel said darkly.

Xander clucked his tongue. "Tsk, tsk. Gotta work on those manners, my man. Mind if I come in?" Without waiting for a reply, he strolled past Angel and into the foyer. "Sort of a gloomy decor. You might want to think about painting the walls, hanging posters or something. Go for more of a lived in look, know what I'm saying?"

"You're here to give me pointers on home decorating?"

"My purpose in visiting is many fold," Xander assured him. "But first...come on, Deadboy, what do you think? How do I look? You haven't said a word about my clothes." He held out his arms and gave another bright grin. "I wanna look good for the prom. More specifically, I wanna look good for my *date* to the prom."

A growl rose in Angel's throat. "So that's why you're here. You want to rub the fact that you're taking Buffy out in my face. Congratulations, you've finally got what you wanted."

Xander's cheerful expression faded, and a shadow crossed his face. "Far from it. I don't have what I want." He paused, then continued. "I'm actually here to do you a favor."

"Lucky me."

Xander reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out several notecards. "I even wrote down everything I want to say." He considered the notes for a minute, then looked up at Angel. "But I'm feeling now that, what with the hostile 'tude, you're really not going to listen to everything I want to say."

"You're feeling right."

"Good." With that, Xander tossed the cards aside, hauled back, and punched the vampire square in the jaw. He stepped back, cradling his hand as he watched the reaction. "'Cause if you said you'd listen, I wouldn't have gotten to do that."

Angel's head snapped back, and he snarled viciously. "Don't push me, boy," he said dangerously. The punch hadn't hurt as much as it had pissed him off.

"I didn't push you. I punched you. And I'm gonna do it again if you don't shut up and hear me out."

"Talk fast."

"You aren't leaving Buffy like this," Xander said calmly. "I am not going to let you break her heart twice. You're being stupid, stubborn, selfish, and a major son of a bitch. The four S'es."

"What the Hell would you know about it?" Angel snapped, the emotions he'd kept inside spilling over. "Not that I think I have to justify *anything* to you, but I'll make it real clear. I *love* her, more than anything in this world. And I'll be damned if I'm what keeps her from having the life she deserves."

"My God, are you even *listening* to yourself?" Xander exclaimed. "Seriously, man, you could not sound more self righteous if you *tried*. Where do you get off saying you're keeping her from the life she deserves? Have you even considered the possibility that by leaving her, all you're doing is setting her up for a lifetime of having to settle?"

"Settle?"

"*Settle*," Xander said impatiently. "She sells herself short and dates a guy she doesn't love because she can't have what she wants and anything is better than being alone. Have you thought that maybe, this is what she really wants? Buffy's not some dumb, ditzy high school senior who can't comprehend reality, you know. She understands what she's giving up - lots of sunny strolls through the park, kids, marriage. But what's the possibility she'd be able to have all that *anyway*? Did you ever think maybe you're the only guy who can fully appreciate what it's like to be her and give her the relationship she *needs*?"

"I'm just trying to do the right thing," Angel said, the anger in his voice draining out and becoming replaced by a bone deep weariness.

"I get that. And I respect it. But what you gotta see, man, is that you're not keeping her from anything. Buffy knows what she's doing, and if she wasn't happy...you'd *know*. The girl's worse at concealing her real feelings than *Willow*, and that's saying something." Xander paused, then forged on. "She *loves* you, and if she's not willing to give up on it, why should you be?"

"And about...about..."

"Oh. The sex thing?" Angel nodded, slightly embarrassed. "Well, hey...I'm probably not the person you should be talking to about that. The only time I've ever had sex was kind of a drive-by affair, wham, bam, here's your pants, catch you on the flip side."

In spite of himself, a begrudging grin tugged at Angel's lips. "Besides," Xander went on. "From what I know...there's other stuff you can do besides...and understand that we will never speak of this conversation again, because I do *not* want to know what you two are up to...you know, the penetration thing. And plus, Will's getting up there with her witchy Wicca ways. Give her time, I'm sure she'll be able to brew something up for you."

Xander checked his watch. "Look, I've spent enough time jawing about this. But, my Jerry's Final Thought: Give it another chance. Girls like Buffy don't come along every day. In your case, every two hundred years. You'd be a moron to let her get away."

"I don't know," Angel said quietly, his head reeling from all the rapid information Xander had hit him with, the way he'd laid out the situation in no uncertain terms. "I don't know if she'd...I hurt her. I hurt her so much, and - "

"Buffy's not one to hold a grudge. Or, okay, she *is* one to hold a grudge, but she'll make an exception in your case, I'm sure. Just...I don't know if my little spiel here was convincing or not, but...I'm hoping it was a deep powerful revelation, and you've changed your mind on this whole leaving thing through my eloquence. But if you didn't, I've got Willow and Oz in the van outside, and they're both primed to come in and give it a go. Will even made a computer chart to embellish her points."

"They don't have to come in. You were right," Angel replied, his voice so low Xander had to strain to hear him. "I should have thought more. I shouldn't have made Buffy's decisions for her, and God...God, it'll kill me to leave her."

"So don't," Xander said simply, feeling an involuntary pang of sympathy in his gut for Angel. At what it must have taken for him to believe that leaving Buffy was right to begin with. How much he had to know he'd be giving up.

"I should talk to her."

"So pull on your tux and head to the prom with us," Xander offered. "She's meeting us there after she slices and dices the devildogs."

Angel's eyebrows shot up. "Devildogs...*hellhounds*? *Hellhounds* were attacking your prom?"

"Emphasis on the 'were'," Xander assured. "We had our secret weapon. Buffy. Come on, Deadboy, the wagon to funky town's pullin' out of the station. You in or you out?"

Angel looked at the challenge in Xander's eyes, the resolve in the set of his jaw. The boy who'd spent three years utterly despising him was lobbying for him to stay...because of Buffy. And if *Xander* thought that he, Angel, was what would make her truly happy...then there was only the one answer to give.

"In," Angel said firmly, and retreated upstairs to locate his tuxedo. As an afterthought, he looked down the stairs at Xander once more. "And stop calling me Deadboy," he said, the gratitude in his voice belying the annoyed tone of his words.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy stood to the sides of the gym, scanning a look over the dance floor for the twelfth time in the past minute. She was getting worried about her friends. Sure, the hellhounds were dropped, but that didn't mean there wasn't some other bad out there tonight.

Giles approached her and tentatively tapped her shoulder. "Are we having fun?" he asked gently.

She sighed. "It was a stupid idea in the first place," Buffy said, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle in the front of her dress. "But I'm getting worried about the guys."

"Buffy, you did tell them you would be late arriving," Giles reminded her. "Perhaps they figured they'd come late, as well. No reason to worry just yet."

"I know," she said, watching the dance floor once again. "But I think I'm gonna call it quits when they finally show, anyway. I'm not exactly in a party mood, y'know?"

"I don't imagine you would be," her Watcher told her. "But they meant well in encouraging you to come. They *are* trying."

"Again, I know," Buffy said. "I just feel like...there's this big chunk of me that's missing. And it's not going to grow back. So I tried to fill it with a pretty dress and some spiked punch - "

"You were drinking liquor? The punch is spiked?" Giles asked, alarmed.

Buffy felt a grin tug at her lips. "Probably. But I'm being hypothetical. Also, no, I had no punch. But...the point is, I'm trying to get my mind off Angel by living in the real world. Maybe I just don't belong in the real world." She glanced at the clock once again. "Even so, I'm still gonna snap Xander's neck if he's standing me up."

Giles smiled at her. "You're a fine young woman, Buffy," he told her, pride in his voice. "And I do admire the way you've been able to keep yourself together."

"Every now and then, people surprise you," she said teasingly.

Giles' eyes slide to a point past her shoulders. "Yes," he said slowly, a smile dawning on his face. "Every now and then." Gently, he took hold of her shoulder and turned her toward the entrance.

Angel stood in the doorway, a single white rose clenched tightly in his hand. He was flanked by Oz, donning his usual expression of stoicism, and Willow and Xander, donning big, idiotic, satisfied grins.

Buffy's mouth fell open. "G-Giles?" she stammered. "Is...is he..."

Giles gave her a gentle push forward. "I believe he's waiting for you," he told her affectionately, then slid off to watch from a less conspicuous angle.

She stood there, her eyes locked on Angel's, frozen to the spot. Her pulse thundered in her ears at she stared at him, beautiful and unsure of how to proceed in his tuxedo.

Willow elbowed his ribs. "Will you go over there and *say* something, already?" she said. "People are going to think *you're* Xander's date, the way you're just standing here."

"I...I..." For one of the only times in his very long life, Angel was speechless. "I don't know what I should say..."

"I find 'I'm sorry' is a good place to begin when you screw up," Oz said matter of factly, wrapping his arm around Willow's waist. "Dance?"

"Sure," she said, throwing a bright smile at Buffy, who was standing as equally motionless as Angel. "Xander, can you handle it?"

"Is Giles British?" Xander retorted. He waved the couple off, then put his hand on Angel's back. "Okay, big guy. Follow my lead." With that, he herded Angel over to Buffy, standing behind him and shoving him through a throng of eager promgoers. "Hey, Buff," he greeted her.

"Uh huh," she said, never turning her eyes from Angel. "What are you..."

"Oh, you wanna know what Deadboy's doing here?" Xander chirped. "Simple. I convinced him he was being a stubborn moron and prodded him into coming here to tell you face to face. What did you want to tell her, Angel?" he encouraged.

"I...I..." Angel stammered.

"Oh, for God's sake," Xander muttered. "Buff, here's the recap: he loves you. If he leaves you, it's gonna kill him. He's sorry for making your choices for you. He respects your judgment. He wants to know if you'll give him another chance, which he promises he won't screw up. Did I leave anything out? Oh...yeah. He thinks you look beautiful, and he wants to know if you'll be his date to the prom."

Buffy finally shifted her eyes to Xander. "What about you? I thought..."

Xander waved a hand dismissively. "Me? Psssh. I gave Anya a call this morning. She's supposed to meet me by the food table." He grinned. "She's really not so bad once you get to know her." He leaned in and kissed Buffy's cheek. "I'm dumping you, Summers," he said into her ear. "Now. Talk to him." And he walked away over to the buffet to join his ex demon date, who was eagerly awaiting his arrival.

"Angel, I don't..." Buffy said slowly. "I don't know what to say, but God..."

He reached out one hand and slowly, hesitantly touched her cheek. "I love you," he breathed. "And I'm a fool. Please...say we can try this one more time," he asked quietly. "I never wanted to hurt you, Buffy, you have to know that."

"I know," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "God, the things I said to you - "

"Shhh," he said. "I know." He paused, then held out the rose in his hand. "I can't leave you, Buffy. Living without you for three days has been Hell on earth. I can't go through the rest of my life without this. Without you."

She reached out her hand and accepted the rose, then rested her hand against his chest. "I like your tux," she said quietly. "It looks nice on you."

"Buffy - "

"Angel. Do I even have to say it?" she asked, smiling up at him. "Everything you said goes same for me. I love you. As far as I'm concerned, nothing else matters. You're here. You're not leaving."

"I'm not leaving," he agreed. "I'll stay with you forever." He leaned down and captured her lips with his in a soft, lingering kiss.

When they finally parted, she smiled up at him, her face soft and happy. "So you finally made it to a high school prom. What do you think?"

"It has possibilities," he said, smiling back at her. "Will you dance with me?"

By way of reply, Buffy slid her hand into his and led him onto the dance floor. Angel wrapped his arms around her, pulled her into his familiar, loving embrace, and she rested her head against his chest. "We've gotta come up with some way to thank Xander," she mused. "And Will. And Oz."

He gently kissed the top of her head. "We'll think about it tomorrow," he assured her, tightening his grip on her and breathing in the scent of her hair.

She smiled and cuddled closer to him. Tomorrow was fine with her.

After all, he wasn't going anywhere.

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