Challenge:Go from the second the Angel finale left off. What is Willow going to say? How will Angel react? How does he deal? Does he go into denial? Does he break down and sob? Does he break things? Go for anything, shock me with it. I require so little for this...but I do want these few things:
~Angel being haunted by Buffy in dreams and seeing her places like he did Darla *only Buffy's in his mind*.
~A tattered old sketch of Buffy by him
~A bouquet of lilies on Buffy's grave.*
~Angel falling asleep on Buffy's grave and seeking refuge from the sun in Spike's crypt (mistakenly) *
~A large oak tree. *
~This is a given, but Angel blaming himself for Buffy's death. *
Have fun and please someone take this!
Summery: A responce to the challenge by La Femme Nibuffy

Angel froze. "Willow?" he questioned. He knew something was up by her face, a mask of pain and sorrow. There was one thing that could have happened that would drive her to come all the way from Sunnydale to see him. "It's Buffy." he said, fear was welling inside him quickly and he thought he would burst into ashes as the realization dawned on him. He felt like he was ripped in half, half of him gone forever. "What happened?" he asked dumbly, even though he knew.

Willow walked over to him and he walked down the steps. "I'm sorry, Angel." she said wearily. "Dawn said that Buffy wanted you to have this." he pulled a piece of neatly folded paper out of her pocket, it was soft and crinkled, as if it had been folded and unfolded continually. "It says all the stuff that she didn't get to say to you." she told him, holding it out for him to take.

Angel accepted the paper, feeling numb, like his feelings were put on standby, and he was running on nutral. "Thank you." he said emotionlessly. Willow nodded. "Can you tell me how she..." he trailed off unable to say the word he had seen so many times, but never, in his wildest dreams, thought it would feel like this, empty.

She nodded and looked down at her hands. "A goddess named Glory opened a portal using Dawns blood. And the only way to close it was if Dawn died and the flow was stopped. And since the munks that made Dawn used Buffy's blood and flesh, it was either her...of Dawn." Angel looked off into the distance, his mind soaking all this in. "She jumped through it and when she landed... she was gone." her tears ran down her cheeks. "Giles said that there was no pain. She died peacefully." Angel was looking at the floor now.

Cordelia broke into sobs and Gunn held her as she cried her heart out. Wesley held Willow as her sobs released, and Wesley himself cried with her. Angel regarded his friends blankly before going up the stairs into his room. His mind was gone, his denial was so strong, he shut down and ran on instinct. He changed into his sweatpants and went to bed. Then slipped into a dreamless sleep.

*

The next morning, Angel stayed in bed, he didn't bother going downstairs. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, hearing her voice echo in his ears. Clutching the paper in his hand still he listened the the memories of her laughter, her sobs, her sureness, and her confusion, her determination, and her fear. All of them haunted him the whole day. But one in particular made his blood run cold and his chest tighten, the night they made love for the first time. Her voice saying his name, her tentative hands caressing his shoulders and back, her softness against him, her breath hot against his face. It was driving him insane. When night came, he slept.

The streets of Ireland stretched out before him, making him feel save, but confused. He knew he was dreaming, but why was he here outside the bar after his friend collapsed from drunkeness. He was in the year 1753, when he was changed. He looked over to his left and saw her. It was Buffy, in the beautiful gown that Darla had worn on this night 200 and something years ago. "Buffy?" he said, walking closer, she started down the alley. "Buffy is that you?" he followed her down the alley. She turned around, her face soft and happy.

"Of course it's me." she said way too overly sweet. "Why would it matter to you you cruel bastard! You killed me! Left me to die!" she yelled, her face twisted in hatred for him. "I hate you!" with that she took off down the alley and disappeared.

Angel jolted awake, sitting up in bed gasping for unneed breath in attempt to calm himself. "It's not your fault, it's not your fault, it's not your fault, it's not your fault." he chanted over and over curling up into a ball and rocking back and forth trying to drown out the memory of the dream by chanting "it's not your fault" over and over, but inside he believed it. If he hadn't left, then together they could have stopped Glory before she captured Dawn and Buffy wouldn't have had to jump into that portal that killed her. It was his fault, and gradually he started saying, "It's is my fault!" then he finally cried.

*

The next night Angel left L.A., the note Willow gave him placed in his pocket as the last link to his love, and returned the Sunnydale in attempt to apologize at her grave and hope like Hell that she will forgive him and take away all the pain. He was tired for he hadden't gone back to sleep in fear that he would have the dream again, the image of her with so much loathe in her eyes haunted him every second that he was driving. When he reached the graveyard, the one that Cordelia said Buffy was buried at, he took the note out and stared at the folded paper, still not having the nerve to open it, he put in back in and grabbed the bouquet of lillies from the passenger seat. He got out and the car and closed the door behind him then walked into the dark cemetery. He found the oak tree she was lain to rest under in no time and crouched in front of the headstone. He traced the letters of her name and read the inscription "Loving Sister, Devoted Friend. She Saved The World A Lot". He nodded in agreement. Placing the flowers on the top of her headstone he whispered, "Buffy, can you ever forgive me for what I've done. I'm so sorry, beloved. I should have never left you." he burst in tears and sobbed, "I should have fought by your side. I should have been there to help you defeat Glory. But I was a coward. I didn't want to see your face look at me when you grew old and see the regret. The regret from staying with me all your life, wasting it when you could have had so much more. Oh God, I'm so sorry Buffy!" Then he lay on his stomach, crying loudly for forgiveness, and he soon cried himself to sleep.

He woke up to a burning sensation in his right hand, and the sizzling of skin, then he felt the pain. He cried out and ran for shelter in a cript that was close by. He closes the door behind him and inspected his hand. "Come to pay your respects?" a voice with an English accent spoke. "I guess you didn't think about the sun then, mate."

Angel looked up and turned around. He saw his childe sitting in an easy chair smoking a cigarette with one hand and holding a bottle of hard whiskey in the other. Angel didn't have the drive to remark so he said, "Yes. I'm guessing you have too?" he asked.

Spike nodded. "I gotta tell ya, I think it's the bloodline that's got attraction to blond slayers." he said in a slightly amused voice.

"You're drunk." Angel said, not believing that Spike was in love with Buffy. They couldn't stand each other while he was living here, what changed?

Spike nodded, "But it true, mate. I'm in love with her. Don't ask me why, I don't understand it myself." he took a swig of his booze then a drag from his cigarette.

Angel just shook his head sadly. "Then you know how it feels. Like your chest is burning and your heart is shattering over and over, and you just know, if I could see her one more time, the pain will end, just one more time. But the pain is magnified everytime your common sense tells you thats impossible." he moved toward and chair and sat down.

Spike nodded in agreement and tossed Angel the bottle of whiskey. "Seems like you've got it right down to an art, mate." he congradulated. "But at least you had her, she never ever looked at me, except that time we were under Red's spell, but that was only magic. You've felt her, I only got to kiss her once of twice." he said, not wanted to tell Angel about the BuffyBot.

"Yeah, right, I got the better deal." Angel said sarcastically, he pulled the cork of the wiskey and took a long drink before replacing the cork. "Try having her once and wanting her again but knowing that it would release an egotistical monster into the world who would murder her and all her friends and family. That's a torture you can never imagine." he shared then tossed Spike the bottle.

He caught it and pulled the cork. "I say again, at least you had her. The best I got with a smiled annoying little andriod that got it's wires fried and it's head kicked off." he took a drink and a drag of his cigarette. He threw the cigarettes to Angel and he took one then tossed the pack back to Spike. Next went the lighter.

He lit up and tossed the lighter back to Spike. Angel had heard Spike's comment, but chose to ignore it because it was way to disturbing. "I told myself I wasn't going to do this." he confided, then took a drag, "Drown my pain in booze and cigarettes."

Spike let out a laugh, "I doubt you would be able to stand it longer than a day or two. The way you two made eyes at each other was sickening." Spike took another swig then replaced the cork and tossed the bottle to his sire.

He caught the bottle, and started denying, "We did not..." he trailed off, sighing he said, "I couldn't help it, she was so beautiful. No man that I have ever seen walk past her, didn't make eyes at her, that was why I was so jealous all the time." Angel pulled the cork and took a drink. "I was afraid she'd realize she was wasting her life with me." he put the cork back on and tossed it back to Spike. Spike had nothing else to say. "God... It's all my fault." he said smothered the cigarette against the cement floor before burrying his face in his hands.

"Geez, mate, it's nobody fault. Not mine, yours, Willow's, Soilger Boy's... She was the Slayer. It's her duty to protect man kind. She chose to take her life so that we all can go on living." Angel rose his head to face his childe. "Don't beat yourself up about it. She could never blame you for anything, so don't blame yourself. That's not what she would have wanted." Spike finished.

Angel nodded. His childe was right. It wasn't his fault. "Thanks. I'm glad we had this conversation." he admitted, feeling a lot less heavy, like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest.

Spike rolled his eyes, and they sat in silence.

*

When night fell, Angel left, and went back to L.A. Once he was in the privacy of his apartment, he opened the piece of paper that Buffy had meant for him to have. It was the drawing of her sleeping. The one Angelus had drawn of her all those years ago. He turned it over the on the back it read:

My dearest Angel,

I want you to know that I love you so much, with all my heart. I know you too well to think that you won't be beating yourself up about my death, so I want you to know that I do not blame you. Be glad, I am. There's no more burden, no more pain, no more apocolipses over here on the other side. I chose to die to save the world, make it a better place. It was the greatest sacrifice since the time I sent you to hell to save the world. I couldn't kill my sister, who could, except Glory, who is dead now. I sure she is, because I know Giles would have killed Ben, who is Glory's vessel. I have to stop my babbling and get to the point. You have to take care of the world now that I'm not there. You have to assume my responsibility. I hate to set this on your shoulders, but I know that I can truely trust you. Please do this one last thing for me. I love you, my guardian Angel.

Love Buffy Anne Summers
P.S. I'm waiting for you.

And folded the paper again and set it on his night stand. He would do as Buffy had asked, he would protect the world, Buffy's friends and family, and his own family. He loved her, so he wouldn't let her down. "I won't disappoint you Beloved." he said into the empty room, knowing that she heard him, then he lay down on his bed and fell into a peaceful slumber, preparing for the trials ahead.

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