Disclaimer: Joss didn't go this route- so I think we can safely assume I don't own them
Rating: PG
Summary: Buffy must say Goodbye...
Category: B/A, POV, Angst

I sit by Dawn, stroking her hair. Willow reads stories to Tara so she'll fall asleep. Anya and Xander bicker a little about what movie to watch. Giles tosses and turns fitfully, his hand on his torn midsection.

It's actually sort of a normal scene. It should be anyway, by my standards. My fingers shake as I touch the baby-soft skin of Dawn's forehead. She shifts in sleep, her palm curving around the bedspread as if she needs something to hold onto. My legs hurt and I wiggle a little, wondering what exactly we're doing here, in Xander's apartment. Hiding? Planning? Or just taking a little downtime?

I assume it's the latter. Everyone's too wiped out to do much of anything. I glance over at Tara and have to close my eyes at the sight of her blankly purple orbs. She doesn't see anything now—except bright green energy. Every time she speaks Willow looks like she wants to cry and it's like a hammer to my brain. My fault. My fault. My fault. Glory. Glory. Glory. Do something, Buffy. Do something. What if I can't--

Suddenly the door opens with a bang. Black leather and bleached hair. "Spike," I grit my teeth. "If Dawn so much as stirs from that noise, you're gonna meet the pointiness of a stake, got that?"

And then I notice that he looks strange. He's not angry, he's not laconic, he's not sarcastic… he's… what? Sad? Oh God, if Spike's sad, something is up. "What?" I ask.

He looks at me gravely and then bites his lip. "You'd better sit down Blondie."

"I am sitting," I bite off the words and he swallows.

"It's… well, it's Angelus. He's been… killed."

I stare at him…

… the world starts to roar and blur…

Dimly, I think I hear Xander, Anya, Willow and Spike engaged in frantic chatter. They're probably glad he's dead, I think, before I faint for a split second, my nose hitting the floor and knocking me awake. Blood streaks the floor underneath me, and I gaze at it in amazement, wondering where it came from.

Spike lifts me up and tiny droplets of red drip from my nostrils. My eyes feel itchy and dry. My face hurts. So does my belly. I think I've got to scream. I want to let it loose… I want to wail until my throat is hoarse… Annnnngeellllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll…

Spike puts me down on Xander's bedspread. My eyes search the ceiling for answers, but all that greets me is stark white paint. My insides start to buzz, then go numb, then they heave and I think I'm going to throw up. I think of his eyes and see them in the walls. Angel… Angel… my fingers reach out blindly. He can't be dead, I think reasonably. He's not. He's too strong for that. Besides, he was just here. He kissed me. We were noble. He made me see that things could be better—maybe. He'd never die on me. Not ever. Not Angel… not Angel… he gave me a cross when he first met me. He loved me. He loved me from the first second. He'd never leave me alone. Not now, not ever. Not ever. Not Angel…

"Nooooooo…" I hear the stunned whimper and assume it's me and then feel Willow's arms around my shoulders. Her red hair looks like blood. I wonder if he bled. Do vampires bleed? Did it hurt? Was he in pain… was it… was it terrible? Who held him?

"Willow…" I moan and then sit back and grasp my stomach, choking back the hot sting of vomit.

"I'm so sorry, Buffy…" she looks stunned and her eyes are red-rimmed. She's been crying, I realize in surprise. I want to wipe those insignificant tears from her face. What right does she have to weep for him? For my… my…Angel?

"Can you please get out?" I inquire politely, and lean back against the wooden headboard. She nods jerkily, and I touch my nose. My fingers come away stained- the colour of poppies. The colour of the fire at the mansion… that swirling orangey-cherry red. I'm pretty sure my nose is broken, and it almost makes me laugh. I hope I'm permanently disfigured. It'll be like a battle scar. I imagine my wrists the same shade… I picture the open veins- pulsing with drowned life…

"Come on, Buffy, you know you can't leave Dawn."

"Angel?" I yelp in shock and look up, and there he is. My love… my beautiful love. He stands at the foot of the bed, clad in the colours of the night. His eyes are soft- but his mouth is set firmly.

He nods. "I'm here."

"So you're not dead?" I ask with relief.

"Never in your mind," he says and I gulp back down the tears, bowing my head, my pale hair falling over my hands.

"Am I just dreaming?"

He sits beside me, and our legs touch. "Everything's just a dream, love." I feel his fingers brush my cheek, and I curve into his touch, my tears spilling over his palm.

"I miss you already, Angel…" I whisper and crawl onto his lap, cupping his face in my hands. "How can you be gone?"

He tilts his head looks at me thoughtfully. "I suppose it was my time."

"Cryptic much?" I giggle and snuggle my face against his shoulder. His arms hold me tightly. "Angel?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

He rubs my lower back. "I love you. I told you nothing could ever change that."

"Oh God…" I sob and hold his face, kissing him deeply, tasting salt and regret and time wasted.

"Come here," he says quietly, and lifts me off the bed, setting me on my feet. "Dance with me?"

"What?" I sniffle and stare at him. My Angel. Just a ghost now. I guess he was always a ghost… passing through my life with kisses and midnight embraces and breathy whispers… with soft words of encouragement and sorrow…

And he was mine… the world was mine…

…so long ago…

"Dance, with me. One last dance."

Blindly, I walk into his arms and he clasps me against his heart, my face curving into his neck and I remember the prom and he begins to whisper in my ear. I kiss the words of love on his lips. How beautiful I was the night we met… how he longs to see me in a wedding dress… how that was always his dream. How he loves me and never stopped and how he'll be in my dreams…

"No…" I murmur and my face rubs against his cheek. "No… please come back. Please."

"I can't," he says and smiles down at me, a smile that breaks my heart- it's such a ghost from way back when… "But I'll be watching you, Buffy Summers. Know that."

"Angel…" I call softly, as he kisses me once, his lips sliding over mine like imagination. His fingers lay over my heart. "Will I see you… again?"

Something flickers in his eyes and he starts to spin away, capturing my palm, his kiss to the center a hot burn. "Even if a thousand years had passed, Buffy… I never would have stopped loving you." The pain squeezing my chest threatens to bend me double, but I remain upright… I stay strong, for him. For my lover, my best friend… someone I never knew I would always love. "I could never leave this universe without you. There will be an again."

"I love you," I say tenderly and he steps close to me, his mouth a breath away.

"Close your eyes."

~~

When I open them to a bright and sunny room, I sit up and stare down at the dried blood on the pillow. Angel… oh Angel…

I see Giles at the doorway. He watches me, concerned.

"You should be lying down," I remind him, my voice cracking.

He smiles gently at my concern and then hobbles forward, sitting down next to me. "How are you doing, Buffy?"

"I'll be ok," I answer and look out the window, his eyes glowing in the sky. Then I look to the bedside table. With one hand over my heart, I gaze at the object adorning the shiny surface.

"What is it?" Giles inquires worriedly.

I shake my head, leaning over to pick it up. "Nothing. It's… it's nothing."

He draws me into his arms awkwardly, and I slip the silver Claddagh ring on my finger, closing my eyes and wishing for the someday I know will come.

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