type. Short Story
rating. This one's pretty safe.
summary. Another little angsty piece, okay it's *very* angsty. I'm depressed, what can I say? Anyway, it's the sequel to Almost Whole, and I'm planning a third to make it a trilogy.
disclaimer. I own nada, don't sue.
spoilers. Um everything and anything related to Buffy and Angel!
distribution. Anyone can have it, but ask first! And send the URL of your page.
author's note. It's from Buffy's POV, "he" is Riley, and "you" is Angel, just in case it confuses you... cause it never really names anyone...

I'm dreaming. It's easy to tell. His arms are wrapped tightly around me, possessive, but not bothersome. At least not yet. His arms won't hold me, can't keep me. I was never really his.

The beach is familiar. I've come here often, trying to replace painful memories with brighter ones. It never works. When I think of the beach, I still hear your voice echoing in my mind. A reminder of guilt and pain. "I'll never leave." You whispered to me, cold breath tickling my skin, your lips brushing my ear. "Not even if you kill me."

I can feel you near, but you won't come. Are you content to watch? To torture yourself with visions of something you can't have? Or are you keep me safe, watching over me from a distance? Who will protect you? Who will keep you safe from the darkness you life in?

They're whispering to me. Friends and family, strangers and brief acquaintances, both living and dead. The words are blurred together, their voices mingling into one until all I can hear are their shouts of warning. Shouts I still can't understand.

You just stand there. On that cliff to my right. Always behind, always following, never leading. Will you ever be by my side again? You stare, haunted eyes pierce mine. Why are you in pain? What torments you this night? Will you share it with me, or try to spare me by bottling it up until you explode?

The sun is rising, a beautiful glare on the ocean horizon, but you hardly notice. He tightens his grip on me, sensing my tension, I had almost forgotten he was there.

"Hush" you whisper, your voice impossibly coming from behind me, "It'll all be over soon." I open my mouth to protest, but suddenly the voices around me are heard, and understood.

"Death waiting. Death coming." They shout, over and over, like an ugly mantra of anger and fear. I shudder, and he is gone, leaving me alone to stand against death itself. In the end, the Slayer is always alone.

You come up from behind me, I don't turn when I speak to you. "Why are you here? This is my fight."

"Our fight." You touch my shoulder, giving me hope until you rip it away with a single word said in hatred. "Fight." I never see the blow coming. Consequence of mistrust and insecurity. I fall to the sand, already feeling tears of pain and disbelief splashing my cheeks.

"Come on, you're the big bad Slayer, fight me!" You say it with such hate, such malice, that I shudder. I suddenly fear your bulk, your size that had once provided me with safety and comfort I'd never been able to find before. Now the arms encircling me will provide pain, not love. You straddle me loosely, flipping me over so you can see my eyes, and I can see yours. Hate, Pain, Fear. All swirling in the beautiful depths that are your eyes. Why do you hate me? Why do you fear? For me or of me?

I struggle, crying, screaming out at you. But you just stare, just watch my tears redden my face, watch as they wetten my hair, and slide into the sand. Watch my pain, my fear, my own anger at fate and at you. Watch it with a smile, a knowing look, savoring my emotions. I could die tonight, the revelation terrifies me. Death by your hands, by your teeth, you're in expert in death. You're the Angel of Death, hovering over me, licking off new tears, letting me stare into the eyes of a demon.

Is this a dream? A horrible recreation of the past? A reminder of the one I could never truly defeat? Is this real? Is your weight on my body real? Are these tears true?

It doesn't matter, if I don't do something, I'll die by your hand. The stake comes out of nowhere, but it doesn't matter. Nothing does. It take it, and plunge it into the broad expanse of your back, and into your unbeating heart. You stare at me, and I see no shock, no anger in your eyes, just a fierce determination. "Fight." You whisper, and I realize those eyes were soulful.

You crumple to dust, all that's left of the man who terrorized innocents and loved me. Ash rains on me, I haven't bothered to move. I scream, suddenly and abruptly, silencing the voices around me. I scream of pain and frustration, grieving the man I loved, the man I killed. This hurts more than my death ever could have. Did I fail you? Did I not see the beautiful soul behind the hateful eyes and kill you because of it? Did I fail to protect you from myself? From yourself? Or did I set you free? Free from torment and pain, free from a lovers affair we could never have?

Willow's shaking me awake, proving to me that it was just a dream. But my pain is real, my tears are true. Are you well? Are you free? Have I failed you still in reality as in my dreams? This sinking, sickening, twisting feeling, is it left overs from a terrifying dream, or the vestiges of a connection that spans unimaginable distances.

The phone rings. I stare, not hearing Willow's hello to Cordelia, her sudden gasp, and worried call of my name. I know without her saying. I know, and the shock, the pain of it numbs me.

You're gone. Finally. Completely.

Did I fail you? Or did I set you free?

Go to the next story Never Go Away

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