Disclaimer: This story is written without permission, using characters created by Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, et. al. I gain nothing monetary in writing this story.
Rating: PG-ish

Summary: Takes place after “Graduation, Part 2” ­ a discussion that could’ve happened.

A.N.: Thanks to Ali for sending the lyrics.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving.”

Startled, Angel nearly dropped the clothing in his arms. “Giles,” he said, glancing at the man from the corner of his eyes.

“You know what this will do to her.”

Angel brushed past him, tossing the clothing into the trunk of his old black car. He hadn’t needed it in Sunnydale. The town was so small, cars were more of a liability than anything, at least when you could move as fast as a vampire. Besides, with a car, he wouldn’t be able to savor the time he had with Buffy. Walking, they could take their time. With cars, there was always urgency. Someplace to be. Someplace to go.

“I know,” he said to Giles.

“Do you?” Giles snapped, pressing close, a threatening move that Angel knew all too well.

Slamming the deck lid closed, Angel whirled almost at the same time, forcing the Watcher back. “You’re glad,” he hissed, “admit it, Giles, you’re going to be just as happy without me around.” He gestured wildly, nearly landing a blow on the man’s chest. “I haven’t been welcome since I came back from Hell. Not by you, certainly not by Xander.” His voice was sharp and choppy. “So you get your wish, all of you. I’m leaving Sunnydale.”

Giles refused to be intimidated, standing his ground after that slight retreat. “I’ll admit I had my qualms,” he said, removing his glasses, polishing them on a handkerchief. “When you returned, when Buffy kept you a secret from us.” He glanced at Angel, his eyes like a flare of blue lightning. “But you don’t know what she was like while you were gone. After…you became him,” he didn’t need to say the name, “she was broken. Terribly. I wasn’t sure if she would recover.”

Angel shook his head, raising a hand to block these words. “I don’t want to hear this,” he said, trying to keep his voice from splintering.

“I think you need to.” The words cracked like a whip and Giles bore in again. “A vampire with a soul, in love with a Slayer. We’ve discussed this before, do you remember?”

Angel wagged his head, leaning his palms on the trunk of the car. He couldn’t even look at Giles now, could only let the words wash over him as the Watcher spoke.

“She’s spoken to me of you, you know. Told me that you were, what was it, out on the road between nowhere and Hell when you saw her for the first time. Oh, don’t look surprised. She was so…amazed that you would share that part of your past. That she, the sight of her was what caused you to turn everything around.” Giles gestured at Angel, towards the mansion, indicating everything that had happened since that sunny day in Los Angeles when Whistler had pointed out Buffy. “And she told me what it took to kill you.” He slipped his glasses back on, armoring up. “We…well, I’m afraid none of us were very kind to her about that.”

“She told me,” Angel said, risking at glance at the man he’d once come to consider a friend.

Giles had the grace to blush, albeit faintly. “We were…still reeling from your actions. His actions. And Buffy had only just returned from running away. I-I wondered at her running,” he said, turning to stare at the mansion, the faint moon sheening his glasses. “I suspected that she had been forced to kill you ­ n-not him ­ but I didn’t share that with the others.”

“It wouldn’t have done any good,” Angel said quietly. His skin itched with this discussion. He wasn’t accustomed to sharing himself with anyone other than Buffy.

“No,” Giles said tiredly. “No, it probably wouldn’t have. When she returned, Willow, Xander and Cordelia talked me into a celebration, a homecoming party. It nearly forced her into running again.” He folded his arms over his chest, sighing. “We didn’t ask about you, not until later. We didn’t understand that she was grieving your loss. Some of us didn’t care that you were gone.”

“I can’t imagine you would,” Angel said grimly. He had the memories of torturing Giles, of killing Jenny. Some days, he’d paced the mansion, unable to rest from the remembrance of them.

“We were selfish, Angel,” Giles said. “Selfish with our emotions and offering little concern for Buffy’s. Her feelings were swept under the rug by then, quickly forgotten by us because she seemed not to care.” He shrugged in defeat. “Then Faith came and we found out you had returned.”

“Don’t forget Wesley,” Angel said dryly.

“No, no, he’s rather hard to forget,” Giles said, “much as I might want to. But Angel, the bottom line is that Buffy loves you. And I’m sure you love her. Have you truly thought this through?”

He wanted to say no, wanted to agree to stay but nodded instead. “I have. It’s…wrong. She’s human and a Slayer, Giles. She might not have much time here,” Angel fought to keep his voice level, saying it, “and she should experience life, not this darkness.” He faced the man. “You know it as well as I do.”

Giles lowered his head, pursing his lips. “Yes, I-I’m afraid I do, Angel.” His shoulders rose and fell as he sighed softly. “I thought…I should speak to you anyway.”

“I appreciate it,” Angel said, “not just for my sake.”

They exchanged a wry smile.

“I suppose this is it, then.” Giles straightened. “I should let you go, before it gets any closer to dawn.”

“Yeah.” Angel dug in his jacket pocket, finding the keys to the car. He slipped the ring onto his index finger, clutching the keys tightly. It hurt, the metal cutting into his skin. It felt like nothing.

“It seems strange that you are leaving,” Giles said softly.

“It’s for the best,” Angel said, wondering who he was arguing with now; Giles, himself, Buffy’s voice in his head. He was getting tired of repeating it.

“I-I would like to say this, Angel,” Giles said. “It has not always been a pleasure but I have enjoyed working with you. You are a brave man and she ­ and I ­ will miss you.” He held out his hand.

Nonplussed, Angel almost couldn’t remember what to do but his own hand seemed to rise under its own volition to shake Giles’. “Thank you, Giles. Rupert.” He broke free gently, glancing at the sky, smelling the subtle hints of sunrise. “I should….”

“Yes, I understand.” Giles stepped away from the car, watching as Angel climbed inside. “Farewell, Angel.”

He twisted the key in the ignition, feeling the engine roar to life and stared at the steering wheel as if he couldn’t, in that second, remember how to drive. Leave Sunnydale, leave this place, where he’d finally found something like a family, leave them, leave her, leave Buffy, leave her. He clenched his jaw tightly, focusing on the pain of his teeth grinding together before he could turn to look at Giles, his final link to her.

“Don’t tell her,” he said, “but.” Angel looked at his hands, at the claddagh on his finger, before saying, “Los Angeles. It’s far enough away, I think.” I hope. “I’ll…give you my number, once I get a place, so you can reach me if there’s any….” He trailed off, meeting Giles’ eyes again. “You know. If you need me. If she.”

“I understand, Angel.”

He mustered a faint smile. “I think you do. Bye, Giles.” Angel threw the car into drive and pressed the accelerator, hearing the tires squeal in protest. He nearly clipped the curb sending the car onto the street. Teeth clenched, he roared out of town, seeing her instead of the road, her scent rising like a fog around him, her voice echoing in his head, words she’d never said, words he felt she could.

“My love, my innocence, my joy, my blood. Take it all and go.

“Traitor.”

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