TItle: The Girl From Yesterday

Summary: Post NFA There are some things you can't run away from.

Rated: R

 

Two     Three     Four     Five     Six     Seven     Eight     Nine     Ten     Eleven   

 

Epilogue

 

Chapter One

 

-Buffy-

 

            I stand under the hot spray of the shower. The water is rust red from the blood and dirt that washes off my body. I close my eyes and slick the water off my hair.  I’m covered in cuts and bruises, nothing slayer healing won’t take care of though. That’s more then I can say about some of the girls I brought here. They’re lying out in the lobby of this old hotel now.  I get out of the shower, every muscle sore, and slip into workout pants and a tank top. I run a comb through my hair.

 

            I pad down the stairs into the lobby barefoot. Illyria, I think that’s what Angel called her, is picking up Rona’s body in a fireman’s carry.

 

            “What are you doing?” I ask.

 

            “The shells must be disposed of. They will begin to rot,” Illyria says.

 

            “What? Where are my other slayers?” I ask noticing now that Wesley’s body is the only one left in the lobby.

 

            “We have put them in the box of fire ,” Illyria says.

 

            “You what?” I shriek.

 

            “You heard her. We put the bodies in the incinerator,” Angel says walking in from the basement.

 

            “Those were my slayers. You had no right!”

 

            “Did you want me to go steal some coffins, dig a hole, bury them in the ground? Maybe we could have a priest say a blessing over each grave,” Angel asks.

 

            “You can’t just burn them,” I say.

 

            “We don’t have a choice, Buffy. It’s this or dump them in the alley to rot,” Angel said.

 

            I shake my head. No, no, no, no. They were mine, mine to take care of, mine to responsible for and he just burned them like trash.

 

            “I don’t even know why you came here, Buffy. I didn’t need your help-“ Angel starts.

 

            “Yeah because you weren’t in a battle to the death, you didn’t need an army of slayers swooping in to help you, an army that died,” I say, disgusted.

 

            “Go back to Rome, Buffy. Go back to your wonderful new life with The Immortal. I don’t need you,” Angel says and whirls on his heel.

 

            Have you ever been hit in the gut so hard you wanna puke? I have and this is worse. I stare at his retreating back in total shock. I’m going to be sick. I’m going to be sick right here in this lobby where we laid all the dead people. I turn and run up the stairs two at time. I throw everything in my carry on, at least I think it’s everything and creep down the stairs. I know he watches me leave. I can feel him, but he doesn’t try to stop me.

 

-Angel-

 

            I watch her walk out of the courtyard from the balcony in my room. I’ve never wanted to stop her from leaving more then I do right now. I don’t have that right anymore-- not that I ever did. She’s got a wonderful, shiny life in Rome with The Immortal. It’s not what I had in mind when I left her five years ago, but then it’s not my life to live and she’s not my girl, not anymore.

 

 

Five Years Later:

 

-Buffy-

 

            The afternoons here are decadent. They have feeling and depth to them.  I wander down the crooked cobblestone alley that spills out into the market. I take a deep breath and the smell of warm fruit wraps around me. I’m here every Monday and Thursday. They’re my favorite days of the week.

 

            Mr. Giagilio’s fruit stand is my first stop. I fill up my basket with peaches and plums, some strawberries and of course, grapes.

 

            “Il Pomeriggio buono, Bello Anne,” he says.

 

            I laugh. “Ciao, Mr. Giagilio.”

 

            I’m not Buffy Summers anymore. I’m Anne Williams, an American from Southern California who lives in the tiny village called Siena in the middle of Tuscany. Five years ago I walked out of the Hyperion Hotel and I quit. I quit slaying, I quit being Buffy Summers.  I pay Mr. Giagilio and fish a peach out of my basket. I sink my teeth into it and laugh as peach juice dribbles down my chin. Mr. Giagilio shakes his head and smiles at me. He’s like sixty years old, but I think he’s half in love with me. That’s okay, his wife is too.

 

            I buy cheese, wine and some fresh bread. The walk back to the little villa I live in isn’t far. It belongs to a little old lady that doesn’t speak English. It’s okay; I’ve lived in Italy for six years now. I’m pretty fluent in Italian, but at first talking to her was a mystery.

 

I put my groceries away in my small apartment and change into a bikini. The rest of my day will be spent drowsing by the pool like a very lazy cat. When night falls I’ll go to Celio, a nightclub where I work as a bouncer.  I’m a huge draw, nothing people like better then watching a tiny blonde toss a two hundred pound, drunk macho man out on his ass. Celio is the Italian word for Heaven-- ironic that after I got pulled out of Heaven, I’m now working in it.   As I’m lying by the pool, soaked in sunlight and warmth, I realize I like my life. For the first time since Angel left me, I like my life.

 

 

-Angel-

 

            Contentment spreads itself over me like a warm blanket, no not perfect happiness, contentment. The little blonde next to me nestles down into my chest and I dip my head, kiss her on the crown of her head and take a deep breath. She smells like cool water and lavender.

 

            “You know, we’ve been doing this for a couple of years now,” she said.

 

            I make some sort of noncommittal sound. It doesn’t seem to bother her. One thing I happen to like about her is that she’s persistent.

 

            “I was thinking, if we’re going to continue doing this, maybe we should just get married,” she says.

 

            If I had a beating heart, well let’s just say it would have stopped.

 

            “Okay, so I can tell by your silence that you’re not totally on board with this,” she says.

 

            I shake my head. “No, it’s not that. I just-I’ve never really thought about it.”

 

            “Angel, I’m twenty eight years old. We’ve been dating for two years. We’ve been sleeping together longer then that. I want to get married and I don’t want to hear any of your excuses about why we can’t or shouldn’t. You will be getting your Shanshu in a little over a month and that negates most of those excuses,” she says.

 

            I start to argue. I start forming the excuses in my head and then it occurs to me why? She’s right; the Shanshu will negate all the real excuses. The ones that are left are just me and my insecurities, my hang-ups. Finally I shrug, “Okay then,” I say.

 

            She’s very still for a moment before sitting up and clutching the sheet so that it covers her chest. She arches an eyebrow at me. “Really?”

 

            I chuckle. This isn’t how I imagined a marriage proposal to go, but then she isn’t the girl I imagined marrying. Don’t get me wrong. I care about her, Hell I even love her but the fact that there’s only contentment in our bed instead of perfect happiness speaks for itself.

 

            “You’ve got a point. If you’re sure this is what you want, then the Shanshu takes care of my objections,” I say.

 

            She glances up at me. “What do you want?” she asks.

 

            I smile at her and tell her the truth, at least part of it. “You.”

 

 

 Chapter Two

 

-Buffy-

 

            I stretch and yawn. I know its early afternoon before I even glance at the clock. I work until almost 5 in the morning; I never wake up before early afternoon.  I shower and dress. I’ve got a date with espresso, pastry and the newest Nora Roberts book.  

 

            “Ciao, Francesca,” I say walking through the kitchen where the little old lady I rent from is sitting.

 

            “Ciao, Anne. Avere un giorno buono,” she says.

 

            I smile as I walk out into the sunlight and down the street. She always wishes me a good day, every day.  The man at the coffee shop greets me. He tried to set me up with his son last year. It’s not an uncommon thing. I think everyone with a son, nephew or grandson anywhere near my age has played matchmaker here. They can’t stand the idea that a young, American girl is unattached. I’ve been warned against becoming a spinster. I can’t tell them that I’m so much older than I look, that my heart is so shattered there’s not a chance of it ever being healed.  I just laugh, smile, blush and tell them I’m not interested in a relationship right now. They’ll try again in a few months.

 

            I take my espresso outside to the little patio and sit at a corner table under the big umbrella. I’m right in the middle of my second cup of coffee and a romantic love scene when I’m jolted by a name I haven’t heard in five years.

 

            “Buffy?”

 

            I sit up quickly, bumping my knee and sloshing coffee onto the table. I glance around.

 

            “Oh, God! It is you, I thought it was you, but it is,” a familiar redhead rambles as she steps closer to me.

 

            “Wil-willow?” I finally manage.

 

            The woman nods enthusiastically. “Oh good, for a minute there I thought maybe you had amnesia. Buffy, what happened? We thought you were dead. No one has heard from you since the thing in LA,” Willow says.

 

            I gnaw on my bottom lip. I vividly remember the thing in LA. I also remember the fight that came after the thing in LA, the final battle that killed Buffy Summers.

 

            “Yeah, sorry about that. I-I needed to get away for a while, you know,” I mumble because I can’t tell her the truth. I can’t tell her I quit being the slayer, I quit being Buffy Summers. I’m Anne now. I knew if anyone found out they’d drag me back into it. I had a chance at a somewhat normal life, no slaying, no vampires and no one stepping on my already broken heart.

 

 I take a deep breath and smile. “What are you doing here, Willow?”

 

            “Oh, well Oz and I are sort of here on our honeymoon, but that’s not the point! The point is you let us all think you were dead! Giles…Giles drank for months. Xander kind of went crazy. I don’t know what he would have done if Dawn hadn’t been there,” Willow says. She pauses a moment and then looks at me sheepishly. “Dawnie and Xander got married a little over three years ago. They’ve got a little girl.”

 

            I sit back, all the air taken out of me. Dawnie got married. My baby sister has a baby. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around that when Willow drops her next bomb.

 

            “Angel’s getting married in a little over a month.”

 

            I stare at Willow mouth agape. My Angel. Getting married. Apparently he’s not my Angel anymore. Willow is saying something else, but the world is spinning too fast for me to hear her.

 

            “Buffy, are you okay?” Willow asks. She’s leaning over me, holding onto my hand.

 

            I nod. “Sorry,I-” I stop. I don’t know how to finish the sentence.

 

            “I know. It’s a shock. You look kind of pale though.”

 

            I shake my head. “Wh-what about the curse?”

 

            “Oh, yeah I asked him about that too. I tried to fix it a few years ago. I don’t know how the gypsies did it but I couldn’t. If I removed the loophole, the soul not only got removed, it got destroyed somehow. Anyway, turns out I didn’t need to remove the curse. There was this prophecy Angel thought he’d signed away but it turns out you can’t sign prophecies away, which makes sense when you think about it. It all boils down to the fact that in a month, Angel’s gonna be human.”

 

            Something deep inside me clenches and everything gets darker. I struggle against passing out. Willow is crouched by my chair, holding my hand and calling my name. She’s trying to anchor me here so I don’t float away. With great effort, I shake my head.

 

            “I’m-I’m okay,” I whisper, but it’s a lie. I’m not okay. Angel is getting married and he’s going to be human when he does it.

 

 

-Angel-

 

            “This is an awfully short guest list,” Liv says.

 

            I glance over at the woman I’m engaged to be married to. “It’s got everyone that’s important to me on there,” I say.

 

            She passes the list to me. “Look at it again, please. I want to make sure it’s complete before I send it off to the caterer,” she says.

 

            I sigh and take the list from her. I glance over it. Liv doesn’t know that I had other friends and that those other friends died, friends like Doyle, Cordy, Wes and…I shake my head and go over the list again.

 

            Willow

            Oz

            Dawn (and by force Xander)

            Spike (if I didn’t invite him he’d show up and raise Hell anyway)

            Gunn

            Anne (yes from the shelter, his wife now)

            Illyria

            Connor

            Giles

            Faith

 

            I hand the list back. “That’s it.”

 

            Liv grumbles. “Alright, we can probably add anyone else you think of at the last minute. The cater will scream, but he’s being paid plenty for this. I’m going to look at dresses today; do you want to come with me?”

 

            I am very careful not to show on my face how much I don’t want to go dress shopping with her. “I’ve got a lot of work to do here, besides isn’t there a superstition about seeing the bride in her dress?” I say.

 

            Liv makes a face. “Oh yeah, I forgot how superstitious you are.”

 

            “I’m two hundred and fifty six years old, it kind of comes with the territory,” I say.

 

            “Alright, then I’m going. I love you,” she leans over and kisses me lightly on the lips.

 

            “Me too,” I say and watch her retreating form.

 

            I turn back to my papers on the desk. I might get them done sometime today if I can go a half hour without someone stopping in to ask me something about the wedding or congratulate me. For some reason my thoughts turn to Willow and Oz. They finally got married two weeks ago and are spending their honeymoon touring Italy. I used to know someone who lived in Italy, but not anymore-- not for a long time.

 

           

 

 

Chapter Three

 

           

-Buffy-

 

            I’m on a plane to Los Angeles. I don’t know why I’m on a plane to Los Angeles; actually that’s not true. Angel’s getting married.  I’m going under the guise of visiting Dawnie and Xander who live in LA along with everyone else I know, or at least used to know.

 

            The pilot comes over the intercom and says we’re beginning our descent. I break out into a cold sweat, not because I’m afraid to fly, land, whatever; I’m not. I break out into a cold sweat because I don’t know if I can do this. I can slay demons, I can save the world. I can’t watch Angel get married. So what am I doing here?

 

            I’m going to get him back of course.

 

 

-Angel-

 

            “So you’re sure this menu is okay?” Liv asks.

 

            I pinch the bridge of my nose and count to ten. This is the fourth time this morning she’s been in here asking questions about the wedding. It’s two and a half weeks away and every day closer is worse than the last. “Liv, its fine.”

 

            “Well it’s going to be your first major dinner party in two hundred and fifty some odd years. I want everything to be perfect.”

 

            I take a deep breath. I’ve had this edgy, restless feeling all morning. Maybe the wedding jitters are getting to me more then I thought.

 

            “Liv, it will be perfect. I’m marrying you,” I say between gritted teeth. I love the woman, I do, but right now I’m sorely tempted to give into Angelus’ demands that we snap her neck.

 

            Liv arches an eyebrow at me and smirks. She’s a smart girl and I’ve no doubt that she can hear the impatience in my voice.  “Okay, so I’m going to get out of your hair and let you get some thinking done. By the way, I’m entirely too nice to you and tolerant of your deep thought periods.”

 

            “It’s brooding and it’s what I do,” I say.

 

            “Okay, so I’m tolerant of your brooding,” she says, walking out of the office and shutting the door behind her.

 

            Oh thank God, I think and turn back to the pile of books on my desk. I’m doing some extra research on the Shanshu.  Dawn, Giles and Willow have been doing the research. It was actually Dawn who managed to pinpoint the timing for me, but I’d like to check things myself. It’s not that I’m worried about my soul. Marrying Liv won’t change what perfect happiness has, and probably always will, equal. Liv isn’t it.

 

            There’s a soft knock on my door. I growl low in my chest.

 

            “Dammit, I’ve been patient, but I need to get this done before the damn wedding or there won’t be one,” I snap without looking up from my book.

 

            “Yeah, I’m sure it’s high quality brooding, but I thought you might have time for an old friend.”

 

            The entire building seems to hold its breath.  I take a deep breath, scent telling me the same thing my ears have already told me. I haven’t seen her in five years, but I’d never forget the sound of her voice, her scent.

 

            “Do you want me to come back later—or not at all?” she asks.

 

            “No, you-Buffy,” I finally manage.

 

            “Angel.”

 

            I close my eyes. I think some part of me said her name just to see if she still says my name the same way, breathy, girlish, almost like a wish.  She does. After a moment I open my eyes and look up at her for the first time. She still takes my metaphorical breath away, and suddenly I want to know what that will feel like when I’m human.

 

I stand up and walk around the desk.  I need to know she’s real. I need to know she’s not a ghost, or a vision or a last favor from the Powers that Be. I’m standing close enough to touch her.  She’s put on a bit of weight since I last saw her, but it looks good on her, gives her a few more curves.  Her hair is a bit darker and a little shorter than it had been five years ago. She’s beautiful. Somehow I’d forgotten how beautiful.

 

            “Well…at least you could tell me you’re glad to see me,” she says.

 

            She’s in my arms. I honestly don’t know if I pulled her there or she did, and it doesn’t matter because my lips are on hers, the world is fading away. There’s just Buffy and me. That’s all there ever has been.

 

           

-Buffy-

 

           

            I twine my fingers in his hair, longer now than it was the last time I saw him, more like when I first met him.  I tiptoe and pull him down to me, aching to be closer, regardless of the fact that we are aligned, pressed together from lips to legs.  One of Angel’s hands is behind my head, lifting me into the kiss. His thumb glides over the old scar on my neck. His other hand drifts down my back, pausing at the small of it and then creeping just a little lower, pulling me even closer.

 

            I moan with regret instantly turned to desire as his mouth leaves mine and peppers tiny kisses across my jawbone, down my neck.  He pauses and rubs his nose across my skin when he gets to the pulse there. He continues to his scar and laves it with his tongue, then nips at it lightly with blunt teeth. He suckles at the slightly raised skin there for a moment.

 

            “Mine,” he growls softly against my skin.

 

            I’m melting into him and breathing “always,” before I can stop myself.

 

            The world seems to snap back into place for him then because he jumps away from me like I burn.  My face flushes and the pulled together, almost happy woman I’ve grown into disappears. I’m sixteen years old all over again.

 

            “I’m sorry,” he says.

 

            “You-you are?”

 

            He swallows hard. “Not for the kiss-“ he goes very pale and stops. He takes a deep, unneeded breath. “I-I just needed to know you were real.”

 

            “Oh.” Okay, so maybe I had entertained a few fantasies that the mere sight of me would make Angel renounce his fiancée and declare his love anew for me.

 

            He sighs. “Buffy, I’m getting married in two weeks.”

 

            “Congratulations,” I say, concentrating on keeping the tremble out of my voice.

 

            Nice job, Buffy. You come here to get him back and you congratulate him on his engagement, I think. I take a deep breath and scrub my palms on my skirt.

 

            “I thought you were dead. We all thought you were dead,” he says.

 

            “Yeah, uhm-yeah.  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for anyone to think that,” I answer.

 

            “What exactly did you mean? We never got a postcard, a phone call, a letter, an email. You never sent anything to us to let us know where you were. You didn’t think we were important enough to let us know you were alive?” Angel asks.

 

            I swallow hard and sigh. That’s not entirely true. I called Giles half a dozen times and hung up on him. I wrote endless letters to Dawnie and never mailed them. There were more international connect fees to Los Angeles on my phone bill than I care to remember, calls I hung up on.  I shake my head. “You were the one who didn’t need me, Angel. I think those were your words exactly.” I know they were his words exactly because they’ve haunted me for the last five years. I’ve had nightmares with Angel in them telling me he didn’t need me.

 

            Angel goes completely still in that way only really old vampires, or corpses can do.  “I didn’t mean I wanted you to disappear, letting me and everyone else who loved you think you were dead.”

 

            “You weren’t exactly specific about what you meant.” I cross my arms over my chest.

 

            Angel pinches the bridge of his nose. “Buffy, can we not do this?”

 

            “Do what?” I ask, even though I know exactly what he’s talking about.

 

            “Dammit, Buffy, I don’t want to fight with you.”

 

            I paste on my happy slayer smile, haven’t had to use this one in a while so it probably looks more cardboard cut out than it used to. “I know. I don’t want to fight either, really.”

 

            “Why did you come back?” Angel asks.

 

            That one question shoves a knife in my heart. I take a deep breath and the knife twists. “I-I saw Willow in Siena and-“ I pause, unsure how much I really want to reveal here. I sigh. “Willow told me you were going to be human.”

 

            He presses his mouth into a thin line, half turns away from me and nods.

 

            “Ho-how?” I manage.

 

            Angel pinches the bridge of his nose again. “A prophecy, I thought I’d signed it away, but Dawn and Giles did some research on it. I guess I’d forgotten you can’t change prophecies.”

 

            I smirk. “Yeah, thought we covered that way back when I died, the first time.”

 

            He turns to me and the intensity in his eyes takes my breath away. “I guess I’d forgotten. I forgot a lot of things about Sunnydale, but never the important things.”

 

            I’m dying to know what the important things are, and yet I don’t want to know. It’s best if I don’t turn into a quivering pile of Buffy, okay a more quivering pile of Buffy.

 

            “I-I’m happy for you,” I squeak. Strong, slayer strong, slayer strong. My mantra doesn’t work. I turn and run out of his office, managing to keep the sobs in until I reach the street.

 

           

Chapter Four

 

-Angel-

 

            She was trying not to cry when she ran out of here. I know this because I could smell it on her. I’ve made Buffy cry often enough to know exactly what she smells like before, during and after.  I pace the office, scrub my hands through my hair. I’m getting married in two weeks. I shouldn’t be standing here, trying to decide whether to go after my ex-lover or not.

 

            She’s not dead, she’s not dead, she’s not dead, is the only thing going through my mind. For five years I’d believed otherwise. A frown creases my brow, I’d assumed because I could smell her, feel her, touch her, she was real. It hadn’t occurred to me that maybe I was the only one, until now.

 

            Frantically, I rush into Harmony’s office. Somehow after the debacle with Wolfram and Hart she ended up as my secretary, again.  “Di-did you see Buffy?”

 

            Harmony gives me her patented confused look. “Duh, she was just here, left a few minutes ago, looked like she was going to cry.”

 

            “Oh, thank God,” I breathe. And then I remember, when Cordy came back Wes, Fred, Lorne, Gunn all saw her, but the security cameras showed nothing. “I need the security tapes, Harmony. I also need you to find out if Buffy is staying in a hotel somewhere.”

 

 

-Buffy-

 

            I manage to make it to my hotel room before complete melt down. I almost lose it at the door. I can’t get the damn credit card key to work. The light refuses to turn green. It finally does. I shove open the door and stumble inside.   I take a deep breath. I’m gonna be okay. I knew all of this when I came here. I’m gonna be okay. I keep repeating it to myself, but somehow hearing Angel say all the things I knew already made them real.

 

            I just need a hot shower, I tell myself. A hot shower will make this okay, I lie to myself. I know that once Angel becomes human and married to someone not me, nothing is going to be okay.

 

            I climb into a hot steamy shower, so proud of myself for holding it together, for being strong Buffy. It’s easy to ignore the scalding tears that mix with the steamy water. That’s not me breaking down, that’s stress or jet lag or a thousand other things that aren’t me breaking down.

 

 Once I’ve got my jet lag tears under control I get out of the shower, wrap myself in the white, fluffy, hotel robe and walk out of the bathroom. I comb my hair out and flip through channels, trying to find something on TV, preferably something very weepy, more of me not breaking down.

 

            The old black and white of An Affair To Remember is on. I close the blackout drapes, dim the lights and curl up around a pillow.  The tears leaking down my cheeks have everything to do with the movie, not me breaking down.

 

            There’s a knock on the door and I know without asking that it’s Angel. That tingle tangle at the base of my spine tells me so.  I remain curled up around my pillow. Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.

 

            “Buffy, open the door. I know you’re in there.”

 

            I sigh. He can probably hear my heart racing or smell me, or something. I don’t want to hope maybe he still has his Buffy sense.

 

            “Buffy, don’t make me kick the door down.”

 

            I get up and grumble. He would, it’s a very Angel-y thing to do.  I glance at myself in the mirror and I’m so not what I want Angel to see. My eyes are red and puffy from not breaking down.  My hair is damp, stringy and I’m wearing a bathrobe. I pictured myself looking some more like a short Gwyneth Paltrow, wearing something completely stunning and terribly sexy the first time Angel showed up in my hotel room.  I open the door and for a moment I can’t breathe. I forgot how big Angel is, how much he fills up a doorway.

 

            “How did you find me?” I ask.

 

            Angel shrugs. “I run an investigations company. Can I come in?”

 

            I shrug and step aside. It’s not like he’ll go away. He’s got over two hundred and fifty years of Irish temper and stubbornness in him.  Angel walks into the room and immediately I can’t breathe. The room is too small, my skin itches and I just want him to be kissing me again.

 

            “I wasn’t exactly expecting company,” I say and gesture toward my aforementioned beautiful self.

 

            Angel gives me that little half grin that is mine alone, at least I hope I can still lay claim to that particular smile of his.  “You look fine,” he says. And my breath catches because he doesn’t sound like he’s lying. I’d know if he was, at least I think I would. Angel used to be a terrible liar, but maybe that’s changed, after all so many things have changed.

 

            I wrap my arms around myself. That last year he was in Sunnydale, I stayed wrapped up like this constantly just to keep from touching him. So many things haven’t changed. He paces the room with his hands in his pockets and I wonder if he still does that to keep from touching me.

 

-Angel-

 

            Her heart is racing. I want to take her in my arms and whisper sweet, soothing words until her heart beat has gone back to that particular, familiar cadence that was once my lullaby.  I know I can’t. I’m getting married in two weeks and Buffy is not my bride to be.

 

            “I looked for you for three years. I used every contact I had and then I made new ones. No one had so much as a whisper on you.”

 

            She bites her bottom lip and worries it between her teeth. I want to kiss that lip and tell her to stop, she’ll make herself bleed.

 

            “I quit. I changed my name and I quit. I haven’t slayed anything in five years,” she says quietly.

 

            That would explain why my contacts never found anything. When a slayer stops slaying, she kind of disappears off the demon radar.  There are so many questions I want to ask, so many things I need to know.

 

            “Where did you go?”

 

            She looks down at her feet; her hair falls in a honey gold curtain around her face. Sorrow and strength roll off her in waves. She glances up at me from underneath her lashes and I can see acceptance in her eyes. Buffy is more at peace with herself right now, even when she’s hurting, than she has ever been.

 

            “All over Italy at first, then I found Tuscany and it seemed to fit. There was this little village named Siena. The people there didn’t ask questions. They didn’t want to know anything about me. They were just enamored of the little, blonde American. They didn’t ask a lot of questions about my past and they never wanted me to save the world,” she says.

 

            I understood the need to get away; I understood the desire to be someone else for a little while. I didn’t understand how she could walk away from everyone she loved, everything she knew.

 

            “How? How could you walk away and leave everyone behind?”

 

            She swallows hard. Her mossy green eyes shimmer with tears unshed. “You can only kill a girl so many times, Angel.”

 

            I’d rather have her shove a sword in my gut and send me to hell for a century or so, I know from experience it hurts less then those words uttered from her lips. I swallow hard, tears sting my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I rasp. I take one last look at her, turn and walk out of the room.

 

Chapter Five

 

-Buffy-

 

           

            I’m sitting in my rental car; yeah I finally sucked it up and learned how to drive. I’m parked in front of Dawn’s house and I know I have to go inside.  It’s hard though, harder in some ways than it was to walk in and see Angel. I knew walking into his place that he wasn’t mine anymore. Dawn is mine, she’ll always be mine and somehow that makes it more difficult.

 

 I finally get out of the car and walk up to the spacious ranch house. Willow told me Xander is doing really well with his construction business and Dawn works for the Watcher’s Council.

 

            The door opens before I knock. It’s Dawnie, but she looks older, prettier. She was always pretty; she just-she’s come into her own.

 

            “Hi, Dawnie.”

 

            Dawn’s eyes fill with tears. She chokes them back and pulls me into a hug. She pulls me into the house and we both stand there, arms around each other, being snifflely for a few minutes. Finally we step back. I brush her long, brown hair off her shoulder.

 

            “Dawnie, you’re so-“

 

            My comment is halted by a tiny voice. “Mommy?”

 

            We both turn and look at a three-year-old angel. She’s got Xander’s hair, dark with a little bit of a wave, but her eyes are completely Dawn’s, wide eyed and brilliant blue.

 

            “Beautiful,” I whisper, finishing my sentence.

 

            A smile like I’ve never seen spreads over Dawn’s face. She crouches and the little girl flies into her arms. She stands again, holding the little girl on her hip.  “This is Calie,” she says. The little girl ducks her head toward Dawn’s neck, blushing. She looks up at me from beneath her lashes.

           

            “Hi, Calie,” I say with a little wave at her.

 

            “Calie, this is your Aunt Buffy.”

 

            The little girl gives that some thought. She leans in and whispers something to Dawn that makes her laugh and nod. “Yes, she’s the lady in the picture on the mantle.”

 

            Dawn pauses and looks at me a moment. “She thinks you’re an angel. We-we didn’t know and I thought you were dead.”

 

            There’s my old friend guilt.

 

            I smile softly at Calie and reach out to touch her chubby leg. Her skin is so soft.  “I’m not an angel, sweetie.” I shake my head at her.

 

 I clasp my hands in front of me and pace the entry way. “I’m sorry, Dawn. I-I tried to call, to write letters. I couldn’t. I didn’t plan on staying gone that long. I just-I was trying to find out who I was. I never intended for it to take five years and I never intended for anyone to think I was dead. I-I changed my name and I bought my own lie about being a normal girl.”

 

            Dawn nodded and set Calie on her feet. “And if you’d come back here, you wouldn’t have been able to lie to yourself anymore.”

 

            I smile slightly at her. She’s exactly right. That’s the reason I never came back. I didn’t want to pick up Buffy’s life with its pain and its sorrow.  “When did you get so smart?”

 

            Dawn shrugs. “I think maybe when I became a mom.”

 

            “She’s beautiful,” I say honestly.

 

            That smile is back on Dawn’s face. “Yeah, I know. Come on in, let’s sit down and catch up. Xander will be home in a couple of hours.”

 

 

-Angel-

 

 

            “Hey, you gonna stay up all night?”

 

            Her voice pulls me out of my brooding and I look up at Liv. She’s standing in front of me clad in a tiny piece of purple silk. Her blond hair tumbles around her shoulders, but it’s a little too light. Her eyes are too blue. I scrub my hand across my face, rubbing at tired eyes.

 

            “Well, I am a vampire.”

 

            “Not for long, you’ve only got a little over a week,” she says.

 

            I shrug. “I’ll come to bed later.”

 

            She smiles at me, bends over and kisses me on the cheek. “Alright, but you know how I hate to sleep without you.”

 

            I nod and watch as she drifts back into our bedroom reluctantly.  I lay back on the couch, hands steepled on my stomach. I’m not in bed with my soon to be wife because I’m thinking about my ex-lover. I can’t get the image of Buffy out of my mind, the look of acceptance and pain she wore. It almost hurt me physically to see her like that and at the same time it was nice to finally see Buffy accept who she was. Since the moment I met her, she’s been fighting herself as fiercely as she ever fought a demon.

 

            I watch the sun come up through necro tempered windows. I get up and make coffee for Liv. I know she’ll be upset because I didn’t come to bed. I had things to think about (Buffy), things to work out inside myself.

 

            “Morning,” I say when she walks into the kitchen.

 

            She glares at me.  Apparently upset isn’t a strong enough word.

 

            “Liv, the brooding is part of who I am.  You know that. It’s not going to change because we get married, or even because I become human. You’re going to have to learn to deal with this.”

 

            “If I weren’t dealing, I’d be packing right now. I love you, Angel but it’s not always easy,” she says and walks out of the kitchen to take a shower.

 

            “Love, just another way to bleed,” I whisper to the empty kitchen.

 

-Buffy-

 

 

            I’m sitting in my hotel room staring at a cardboard box Dawn gave me. It’s everything that’s left of my life as Buffy Summers, the vampire slayer. Pieces of things we saved from Sunnydale, scraps of the year we spent together in Rome. I can’t put it off any longer. I crouch down next to the box and open it. Nostalgia washes over me and I’m afraid to touch the things inside. If I look in this box, if I pick up these things, I’m going to have to pick up my life as Buffy Summers again. Anne Williams will be a figment of my imagination, a girl who died at a café in Siena, Italy.

 

            My fingers move of their own accord. I pull out the buttery-soft, ancient leather jacket on top and bury my nose in it. Tears rush to my eyes. It smells like him. After thirteen years, somehow it still smells like him, the Bronze and life before I knew who Angelus was. Now, I’m breaking down.

 

Chapter Six

 

 

-Angel-

 

            I’m in the basement of the office pummeling the punching bag down there. I spent most of the morning with Liv and a wedding planner. You know in my day, weddings were simple. You bought a claddagh, you gave it to the girl, she wore it heart pointing inwards, you consummated the marriage and that was it. Occasionally there was a priest that told you to put the ring on and consummate the marriage.  We didn’t have wedding planners, cake, invitations and three thousand dollar dresses.  Liv let it slip how much her dress cost. I think she’s getting back at me for not going to bed last night.

 

            The intercom buzzes and I halt my assault on the punching bag. I bend at the waist and rest my hands on my knees. “Yeah?”

 

            “There’s a package from Fed Ex up here for you,” Harmony’s voice echoes through the room.

 

            “Who’s it from?”

 

            “Uhm…the Wilshire Grand. Wait, isn’t that where Buffy is staying?” Harmony asked.

 

            “Yeah, I’ll be up there to get it in a minute.”

 

            Honestly, it doesn’t take me a minute. It takes me about thirty seconds because all of the sudden I’m conjuring up the worst possible reasons the Wilshire Grand would be sending me a package, for some reason the words ‘personal effects’ haunt me.

 

            Harmony hands me the Fed Ex package and I lock myself in my office. I rip the package open with shaky hands and spill the contents out onto the desk.  There’s a container of Turtle Wax, a cheap watch and a note from Buffy.

 

I lied. I don’t want to be left alone.  Thought maybe we could have coffee tonight, or something. Willow swears it’s still the non relationship drink of choice.

 

-Buffy

 

            My laughter resounds through the office.  The first time I actually met Buffy comes rushing back at me.

 

            “I’m sorry that’s incorrect but you do get this lovely watch and a year’s supply of turtle wax. What I want is to be left alone!”

 

            She had knocked me on my ass, a fall I never really recovered from, and I’d given her a cross. I wonder now if she’s still got that cross, but probably not. I know from talking to Dawn and Willow that they didn’t take much when they fled Sunnydale.

 

            I pick up the phone and dial the number for the Wilshire Grand. After a few moments I’m connected to Buffy’s room. She sounds out of breath when she answers the phone.

 

            “Hey, Buffy.” I’m ashamed to admit I worked on this delivery. I feel like an idiot every time I greet her and the only thing that comes out is her name.

 

            “Angel.”

 

            I can hear her smile over the phone and I’m glad she didn’t practice saying my name with any other sort of greeting.

 

            “I got your package. Coffee would be nice. Any particular time?”

 

            “Yeah? Uhm—I can meet you somewhere after sunset if you like. There used to be coffee shop on the beach called The Java Spot. I don’t know if it’s still there…” she trails off.

 

            It takes me a few minutes, or rather Harmony a few minutes, to find out if the place still exists. It does.

 

            “I can meet you there if you like,” she says.

 

            Buffy drives? A smile comes to my face when I remember how vehemently she used to protest that she and cars were “non-mixy things.”

 

            “Or I can pick you up at your hotel.”

 

            There’s silence for a beat. “Okay, after sunset then,” she says.

 

            It’s not until I hang up the phone that I remember I was supposed to have dinner with Liv and her parents.

 

-Buffy-

 

 

            I think I’ve gone through every single piece of clothing I own. I’m wearing a jean skirt and a pale green, shimmery blouse. It makes my eyes look really green. I fiddle with my hair, trying to decide whether to put it up or leave it down. I crane my neck, catching sight of the scar, pale and raised against my skin. A shiver runs up my spine as I remember Angel sucking at that scar and growling “mine” yesterday. I pin my hair up.

 

            There’s a knock on my door and I panic. “Just a minute!” I yell. I spritz some vanilla perfume on, snag my shoes out of my suitcase and grab my necklace. It’s the cross Angel gave me, one of the few things I took with me from Sunnydale. I throw open the door and the sight of Angel standing there makes me go weak kneed. He’s wearing black slacks, a deep blue gray shirt and a black leather jacket.

 

            I turn my back to him so I can catch my breath. I drape the cross around my neck and hold up the ends of the clasp. “Will you fasten this for me?”

 

            His fingers brush my skin, sending cool shivers up and down my spine. It feels like he touches places deep inside of me, places that have never even been seen, maybe places I don’t even know.  He steps back; the absence of his touch leaves me gasping for breath.  I take a deep breath and turn around.

 

            Angel smiles at me and looks pointedly at my cross. “I didn’t know you still had that.”

 

            I look down at the floor and back up at Angel shyly. “We knew before we cratered Sunnydale that we probably weren’t coming back, so we each packed one bag a piece with the things we couldn’t bear to leave behind.”

 

            He reaches out to glide his fingers along the edge of the cross. He winces slightly, his fingertips smoke. I remember the kiss, the one he told me about months later, the one he let me burn him with my cross just to have. Maybe being this close to touching me is worth burning. I hold my breath and will myself not to fall into his arms.

 

            “Ready to go then?” He asks withdrawing his hand, touching the still smoking fingertips together.

 

            I nod. We walk down the hallway, carefully keeping our hands to ourselves.  I smile at the sight of Angel’s car. It’s this big, old black convertible. It looks exactly like something Angel would drive.  He opens the car door for me, ever the gentleman.

 

            I was afraid the drive to the coffee house would be uncomfortable. We’re not exactly chatterboxes. I guess I’d just forgotten how comfortable silence is between Angel and me.  We aren’t silent the whole time either. He tells me a little about his life now, carefully avoiding the subject of his fiancée.  He seems almost happy, or at least at peace with his life. Why shouldn’t he be? He’ll be human in about a week and a half. He’ll be married to a woman he loves a couple of days after that.

 

            The coffee house is the perfect place. We walk outside and sit at an isolated table on the beach.

 

            “What would you like?” Angel asks.

 

            I consider it a moment.  I’m in the mood for something decadent. “Carmel Macchiato.”

 

            Angel nods and disappears to the coffee bar. He comes back a moment later with two huge, steaming mugs of Carmel Macchiato. I’d almost forgotten that he did that. In Sunnydale, he always ordered whatever I got at the Espresso Pump, which is kind of sweet when you think about it. He can’t actually taste the coffee.

 

            We settle back into comfy chairs, hands wrapped around coffee mugs. The night air is cool and the hot coffee is a delicious contrast. I shiver. I’d forgotten that the ocean breeze can make a warm night bitingly cool.

 

            “You’re cold,” he says.

 

            I bite my bottom lip, remembering another time he said that to me. He stands up, removes his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders. I don’t protest. I gather the folds of Angel’s jacket around me and wonder how someone with a room temperature body can make me flash so hot.

 

            “Thanks,” I murmur.

 

            Angel gives me his little half grin, it’s almost nostalgic and I wonder if he remembers too. “It looks better on you.”

 

            My heart is in my throat. He remembers.

 

            “Tell me about your fiancée,” I say, shattering the moment because if I don’t I’m going to do something we’ll both regret, like kiss him.

 

            Angel gets tense and puts his coffee on the table.  He sits back in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. He clears his throat.

 

            “She’s-her name is Liv. She-she was attacked by vampires three and a half years ago. I-I got there before they hurt her badly.”

 

            I smile. “Damsel in distress?”

 

            Angel shrugs. “It kind of comes with the territory.”

 

            “Helping the helpless,” I say.

 

            He nods.

 

            “So, what else?” I need to know what my competition is if I’m going to get him back.

 

            Angel shrugs. “We’ve got a lot in common.”

 

            “She’s a two hundred and fifty year old vampire too?” I tease.

 

            Angel chuckles and shakes his head. “No. She likes literature. She’s-was a literature major in college.”

 

            Great, my competition is a brain that can dish Shakespeare and poetry with Angel. This isn’t looking good.

 

            Angel changes the subject to the current demonic activity in Los Angeles.  Apparently there are a couple of gangs in the middle of a turf war. Angel and Company are keeping an eye on them to make sure innocents don’t get caught in the crossfire.

 

            “You know we could use a slayer on the team, if you wanted a job.”

 

            I arch an eyebrow at Angel. “I stopped being a slayer five years ago. I haven’t even trained since then.”

           

            “Buffy, being a slayer is what you are. It’s as much a part of you as your blonde hair and your green eyes. I guess you could live the rest of your life ignoring that, but you’ll have to spend the rest of your life running from your family and friends too. Do you really want to do that?”

 

            I glare at him. No fair playing that card.  “I’m completely out of shape, out of practice,” I argue.

 

            “I’ve got a state of the art training room in the basement of my building. I’d be willing to help you get back into practice, if you’re interested.”

 

            I purse my lips and ponder his offer. Memories of Angel and me sparring, of Angel teaching me Tai Chi flash through my mind. I can’t pass up a chance to train with him, to be that close, to be allowed to touch and feel.  I sigh. I know I’m setting myself up for a massive heart break and yet I can’t seem to care. “I’ll drop by around ten tomorrow?”

 

Chapter Seven

 

-Angel-

 

            It’s late when I creep back into my apartment. I unlock the door and pause, listening for Liv’s heartbeat, the cadence of her breath. I grumble; she’s still awake. I have two options, and they’re both bad. I can go on in, face her wrath over missing dinner with her parents or I can go back to the office, fall asleep on the couch and face her wrath in the morning, hoping she’ll be done ranting before Buffy shows up. I take option number one. I’m not ready to introduce Buffy to Liv. In my experience, current girlfriends don’t accept ex girlfriends very well.

 

            She’s sitting up in bed reading. She glances over at the clock. It reads 12:15A.M. Buffy and I went walking on the beach after the coffee shop closed. I still have sand between my toes.

 

            I yawn. “Wow, it’s later then I thought.” Liv isn’t really aware that as a vampire I can tell time almost to the minute without a watch or a clock. It’s a survival instinct for vampires.

 

            She arches an eyebrow at me. “You’re trying to tell me you completely forgot the dinner with my parents, the dinner I called to remind you about three times?”

 

            I take a deep breath. “No, I didn’t forget.” I’m not positive what the purpose of the dinner was. I’ve met her parents, granted they don’t know I’m a vampire, but that won’t matter by the time we’re married.

 

            “Really? Then why weren’t you there?” She sounds mad, something I don’t think I’ve ever really seen Liv be.

 

            I draw my mouth into a straight line. She’s not going to like this. It doesn’t matter. I’m not in the habit of lying to people I care about. “I had coffee with an old friend who happens to be in town for a few days.”

 

            Liv sighs. Her anger deflates. She puts her book down on her lap. “You could have told me that. We could have rescheduled the dinner with my parents. We just need to all get together sometime to discuss the wedding.”

 

            I check a growl. I’m so tired of discussing the wedding. Liv and I don’t seem to discuss anything else lately. “I’m sorry.”

 

            “So tell me about your old friend. How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” she asks patting the bed.

 

            I take my shirt off, toss it in the hamper, strip my pants off and toss them the same way.  I crawl into bed with the goal of distracting Liv so she doesn’t ask too many questions I’m not ready to answer about Buffy. She’s persistent, but I’ve got over two hundred years of distraction techniques under my belt.  I almost feel guilty later when Liv is snoring softly beside me in bed and I’m lying with my hands behind my head brooding.

 

-Buffy-

 

            It’s just training, I tell myself, which is why I rushed out and bought a new pair of workout pants and tank top this morning.  My tennis shoes are old ones. I haven’t exactly been completely lazy for five years. I run almost every day.  I park the rental car, get out and take an elevator up to Angel’s office. Harmony is sitting in the front office at her desk.

 

            “Hi Buffy, you can go on in. He’s expecting you,” she chirps.

 

            I thank her and push open the door to Angel’s office. He’s talking on the phone and pacing. I sit down in a chair to watch him, a pasttime I’m quite content with. He’s dressed in a pair of black sweats and a white wife beater.  It was always his workout uniform in Sunnydale too.

 

            “Alright,” Angel says nodding. He glances at me and smiles. My heart skips a beat. “Okay, me too,” he says and hands up the phone.

 

            “Business?” I ask.

 

            Angel looks a little uncomfortable and shakes his head. “Uhm—Liv. Ready to start training?”

 

            He really isn’t comfortable with me mentioning his fiancée and honestly I’d just as soon pretend she didn’t exist. Of course, if she didn’t exist, I wouldn’t be sitting in this chair, arms wrapped around myself trying so hard not to touch Angel.

 

            “Yeah,” I say. I could take out some frustrations of the mammoth kind.  I stand up and we take a private elevator down into a basement. The doors slide open and I follow Angel out into a huge training room. He wasn’t lying. This place is state of the art. The floor is covered with this semi squishy padded stuff that’s hard enough to work out on but padded so landing doesn’t hurt quite so much.  There are punching bags, weights, training dummies, targets, and weapons galore.

 

            “Wow, this place is great,” I say as I start stretching. I’m still pretty limber, slayer genes I guess. I finish up stretching and stand in the middle of the room, a little lost as to what I’m doing here; maybe it’s Angel, maybe it’s that I haven’t done this in five years.

 

            Angel catches me in the jaw with his fist. My head snaps back. My hand flies to the spot he hit and I stare at him in shock.

 

            “Is that what you brought me down here for? So you could hit me?”

 

            “What? You wanna play the girl card? Hit me back, you’re the slayer. Remember it,” Angel spat.

 

            Son of a bitch, I think and launch a vicious kick at him. He laughs and ducks underneath.

 

            “You’re gonna have to try harder then that, Buffy.”

 

            He’s taunting me. Mr. do-you-have-to-talk-to-the-vampires-before-you-dust-them is taunting me. Fine, he wants me to try harder. I’ll try harder.  He throws a punch that I block and a smirk flits across my face.

 

            “Gonna have to try harder, Angel.”

 

            He laughs. The sound rolls around the training room and it’s a good sound.  I grin at him and charge. He ducks and rolls underneath my flying kick. He comes up behind me, catches me in the small of the back with a kick of his own. I stumble forward but catch myself and whirl, catching him with a punch that’s hard enough to make him stagger.

 

            “That’s my girl,” he says.

 

            I shake my head and smile. I force back tears that remember a time he wasn’t so sure I was his. I cover up the tears with a leg sweep. He doesn’t have time to contemplate whether I’m about to cry or not. From there I just let my mind go blank. I revel in the ballet of kicks, punches, sweeps and other fighting moves.

 

            I can’t help but think how right this feels. I might have spent the last five years running from being a slayer, but I didn’t lose it. This is what I born to do, like breathing, heart beating; slaying is what my body does. It feels good to let it do it again.  We’re evenly matched, but I think Angel is holding back.  Neither of us have made ‘kill shots’ to end the ballet just yet. We’re both hot, panting and slick with sweat when Angel blocks my cross punch by grabbing my wrist. He flings me hard against the wall and is there before I can catch my breath, pressing my body into the wall with his. His demon face slips into place and he growls, burying his face in my neck. He just nips my skin, drawing a tiny bead of blood. His tongue snakes out, lapping up the minute blood on my skin. I can’t help the moan he tears out of me.

 

            He shoves himself away from me and turns his back. His entire body is trembling. I step forward just enough that I can see he’s fighting to lose the demon face. I reach out, fingers brushing his tattoo and memory flashes through my mind.

 

            “Do you snore?”

 

            “I don’t know. It’s been a long time since anybody’s been in the position to let me know.”

 

            We both jump away like we’ve been shocked.

 

            “That was good,” Angel says.

 

            I smile. “You still got me in the end and I think maybe you were holding back.”

 

            Angel shrugs. “I’ve been training, slaying, you haven’t. You’ll get better.”

 

            “So there will be more training?”  I’m hopeful. I hadn’t actually expected to use my slayerness as a way to get to Angel. It was more feminine wiles and locking myself outside my hotel room in a towel, but hey if the slayerness gets him, not complaining.

 

            Angel grins at me. “You said it yourself; I got you in the end.” He snags a towel from a shelf and tosses me one. We start toward the elevator. I hang back to watch him, shirtless and glistening with sweat.

 

            “In the end, you’ll always get me,” I whisper.

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

-Angel-

 

            The door to my office is shut. I’ve told Harmony I don’t want to be disturbed under any circumstances.  I heard her, Buffy that is. I heard what she said when we left the training room and I made up a meeting I had to be at so I could get away from her, because if I were around her one moment more I’d forget I was a man engaged to someone else.

 

            So now I’m sitting here, brooding. What else would I be doing? I’m not sure she knows I heard her. She hasn’t been around vampires in five years; maybe she’s forgotten I can hear a pin drop in the other room, but then maybe she hasn’t. In which case, did she mean for me to hear her? The old Buffy, the one I knew in Sunnydale, used to whisper things when she wanted me to hear them, but didn’t want to say them.  She knew exactly how good my hearing was. We’d have entire half whispered conversations, because sometimes I could get her to talk like that, because sometimes I could get her to tell me all the things she kept bottled up so tightly.

 

            I stand up and shove myself away from the desk to pace in front of the windows looking onto L.A. I shouldn’t be having these feelings for Buffy. Who am I kidding? These feelings for Buffy never went away, I just accepted that she was gone and I had to get on with my life.

 

 That’s when Liv walked into my life. She forced me to get out and get on with my life.  She’d show up just after sunset and tag along with me, insisting that with me was the safest place she could be. Liv wedged herself into my life. I’m not saying I’m complaining because until the moment Buffy Summers walked into my office, I would have told you I was a happy vampire, relatively happy anyway.

 

            And now I’m getting married in a week and a half. In a week or so I’m going to be human and that pesky gypsy curse that kept Buffy and I from trying to have a future together won’t be an issue.  She and I had other issues though, other problems. My thoughts wander to that forgotten day. I may become human, but she’s still going to be the slayer. I won’t fit in her world anymore.

 

            I shake my head and rake my fingers through my hair. She spent the last five years not being the slayer. If I weren’t getting married (which I am) to someone else, would we be able to live in a world where she’s the slayer and I’m just a human?  Would I be able to watch her risk her life, night after night, fighting beside her but knowing in the end this is her destiny and it’s going to kill her? Doesn’t matter, it’s a moot question because I am marrying Liv.

 

            Liv has stuck by me through a lot of things. She never cared that I was a vampire, sure she was a bit surprised at first but show me a person that isn’t. She doesn’t know about Angelus. He’s never tainted her life or our relationship.  She doesn’t have memories of him killing her friends, of him trying to kill her. Once I become human, that’s all I will have ever been to Liv, human.

 

            I am marrying Liv.

 

-Buffy-

 

 

           

            “So, Will, tell me about Angel’s fiancée.” I’m sitting on a big, cushy couch in Willow and Oz’s apartment, a little sore from my training session with Angel earlier that morning, with my hands wrapped around a mug of cocoa.  We’re having girl time while Oz is out practicing with the Dingoes.

 

            Willow looks a little uncomfortable and glances at me. “Do you want the truth or the best friend version?”

 

            I grin. “The best friend version?”

 

            “She’s horrid, not even remotely pretty or nice. She reminds me a lot of Cordy in high school personality wise, without the good parts and uhm…” Willow pauses, searching for more horrible lies to tell.

 

            I chuckle softly. “Okay, now the truth.”

 

            Willow shrugs and puts her cocoa on the coffee table. “She’s nice. I mean I’m not all in the Liv fan club, but she’s friendly, she’s open minded. She helps me, Giles and Dawn out with the research sometimes. She’s crazy about Angel.  And she’s pretty. She reminds me a little of you, maybe taller but still blond, tiny, blue eyes.”

 

            I gnaw at my lower lip. “Yeah Angel kind of has a type, I mean Darla, Me, Liv, blonde, little. Is he crazy about her?”

 

            Willow tucks a strand of her flame colored hair behind her ear. “I-I’m not sure. I mean he cares about her. He-“ she pauses and looks up at me, as if considering whether she should say something or not. “He never looks at her the way he used to look at you.”

 

            “What does that mean, Will?”

 

            Willow shrugs. “I don’t know really. He used to look at you with this all consuming obsession. You knew just from watching Angel watch you, that you were his world, his universe. It just-it means he doesn’t feel the same way about her as he did, maybe does, about you. I’d have to see you two together first to-you know see anything.”

 

 “I mean-I don’t know. So many things have changed and then sometimes—sometimes it seems like nothing has changed. Things were easier in Siena. I knew what I was going to do that day, what was going to happen and how I would feel about it. Here-since the moment I landed I don’t know how I’m going to feel from one second to the next.  Introduce Angel into my life and blam it’s all outta whack.”

 

            Willow smiles at me. “He feels the same way you know. Or at least he used to. He told me once, when he wanted me to look up Ford on the net, that life before you was easy, simple. Then you came along, and suddenly he’s jealous of sixteen year old boys.”

 

            Confession time, I think. I glance over at Willow and take a sip of my hot chocolate. “You know, Will, the reason I came here-I mean I wanted to see Dawnie and everyone, but the real reason I came here was-was to get Angel back.”

 

            Willow laughs. “Duh, of course it was. You don’t think I knew that?  We’re best friends, or…were.”

 

            I smile and reach over to grab Willow’s hand. I squeeze it. “Still are.”

 

            “So, how are you gonna do it?”

 

            I sigh. “I don’t know. We’re-I don’t know where we’re at. He kissed me the first time he saw me.”

 

            Willow’s eyes lit up. “Oooo, what was it like?”

 

            I grin. “It was-it was like it always is with Angel kisses, the whole world fades away.”

 

            I tell her about the coffee shop, the walk on the beach and our training session.

 

            Willow takes a deep breath, levels her best resolve face at me and says, “As always, I advise you to talk to him.”

 

            “I don’t know if I can just do that, Will. I mean he’s engaged to be married to someone else,” I say.

 

            Willow shrugged. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

 

-Angel-

 

            “You okay, Boss?” Harmony asks, poking her head into my office.

 

            I glance up from my brooding by the window. “I’m fine.”

 

            “Okay, uhm—I’m going to go. It’s dark and way past regular working hours,” she hedges.

 

            I stand up and grab my duster from the coat stand by the door. “I’m going to walk back to my apartment. I’ll walk you to your car.”

 

            “So are you way excited about the wedding? I got the cutest pink dress to wear. I’m so glad you decided to go with a night time wedding even though the sun won’t be a problem then and isn’t that weird. I mean you, human. How much does that suck? Well, I guess maybe it won’t for you, but now you’ve got to worry about things like botox and face lifts just to stay looking young,” Harmony babbled.

 

            “Yeah, excited.”

 

            I’m grateful Harmony’s car is parked close.  I watch her drive off and then walk into the cool night air.  I turn my face up to the night and let instinct dictate where I go.  Eventually I will walk back to my apartment, right now I need some time alone, some time to think.  I end up in a park. I sit down on a bench, take my shoes and socks off and walk in the cool grass barefoot.

 

            I take a deep breath of night air. The smell of earth rolls over me and I remember crawling out of my grave. I remember the brief moment of panic and then the overwhelming hunger, hunger that clawed its way out of the grave and drank down the groundskeeper in the small cemetery.  Bile rises in my throat. I know what I did next. I’ve lived it a thousand times over in memories, in nightmares.  I killed my father, my mother and my baby sister.

 

            My breath is coming in harsh pants. I lean against a tree, fighting to regain control. I don’t even notice her until she lays a hand on my shoulder.

 

            “Angel.”

 

            I shake my head. “Go away.”

 

            “What’s wrong? You-somehow you look even more pale then usual,” she says.

 

            I turn around and look into her green eyes. She wears concern around them like a pair of spectacles. I shake my head again. “I thought I could just be human. I thought I could forget everything I’d ever done, everything Angelus has ever done. I thought I could forget Mum and Da, Kathy-I thought-I thought I could be human.”

 

            She pulls me into her embrace. She’s so strong. I always feel like I’m going to break Liv. I can’t break Buffy, she’s stronger then I ever hoped to be. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re alright,” she whispers as she rifles her fingers soothingly through my hair.

 

            I wrap my arms around her and hang on so tightly.  She’ll make everything okay, somehow. That’s what she does. Buffy saves me.

 

            Somehow we end up folded on the grass, me wrapped around her like she’s a life ring.  She’s still stroking my hair, my face, my neck and I just want to stay here for a little while longer. I’m so tired of being the hero, being the guy who always saves everyone. I want someone to save me.

 

            “You don’t have to forget everything and everyone to be human, Angel. Everything you are right now is all you have to be,” Buffy whispers.

 

            “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve a reward. I should be burning in hell for eternity for the things I’ve done.”

 

            She shakes her head. Her golden hair falls around me like rain.  “No, you’ve done so much good. You’ve saved so many lives. You’ve redeemed yourself, Angel and I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

 

            A streak of lightening cracks the blackness of the sky and thunder makes the ground shudder. The night opens up and rain starts pouring down on us. We scramble up from the grass. I snag my shoes from the bench and we run, hands entwined, toward my apartment.

 

            We don’t say anything to each other until we’re inside. She’s shivering so hard her teeth are chattering.

 

            “You’re shaking like a leaf,” I whisper, unable to keep myself from repeating words from the past.

 

            “Cold,” she says and I wonder if she’s aware that she’s repeating the same words from the same past.

 

            “Let me get something,” I say and lead her into the bedroom. I grab a pair of my sweats and a sweater from the armoire. I could have handed her something of Liv’s. It would have fit better. I want to see her dressed in my clothes. I want to smell her scent on them. I hand her the clothes and automatically turn my back, chiding myself for not going in the other room.

 

            “Put those on and get under the covers, just to get warm.” It could have been that night, that lifetime. It could still be that night, that lifetime.

 

            I close my eyes, take deep measured breaths and wait. She doesn’t wince in pain, of course she doesn’t. We haven’t been fighting anyone. She doesn’t have any cuts on her shoulder blade, not this time. I always wondered about that. I wondered if she’d hissed in half pain, knowing I would want to know why, knowing I’d insist on seeing it. I wondered then if she wanted me that close and I wonder it now.

 

            “Thanks,” she mumbles and I open my eyes.

 

            My sweat pants puddle around her bare feet. My sweater hangs down almost to her knees. She looks even tinier, more fragile encased in my clothes.  I step into the bathroom, grab a towel and hand it to her.  She’s still shivering and I know I should move, make some tea, anything but stand here close enough to touch her.

 

            She’s in my arms, heedless of the fact that I’m still soaked to the bone. She’s shivering and enveloping herself in me.  I bury my nose in her hair. Her breath hitches and she snuggles herself deeper into me, her head going to the crook of my neck, that space made just for her.

 

            It takes me a moment to realize the sob that rips through the air isn’t Buffy or me. I glance up and there’s no one there. I take a deep breath.

 

            Liv.

           

Chapter Nine

 

-Angel-

 

            I glance down at Buffy. “I’ve got to-stay here.”

 

            I run out of the apartment into the hallway. I pause and listen. I can hear Liv clattering down the stairwell. I hit the door and start down the stairs after her. “Liv!”

 

            She doesn’t stop, not that it poses much of a problem to me. I put on an extra burst of vampire speed and stop in front of her. I grab her by the shoulders. Her blue eyes are red rimmed and puffy. She sniffles and swipes at her nose.  “Liv, listen to me. That is an old friend-we got caught out in the rain.” It sounds lame, even to my ears.

 

            “Is that the old friend you were out until midnight with the other night?”

 

            I nod. “She’s-I-I was in a mood over the human thing. She understands it. She was there when a lot of things in my life weren’t going right.  I needed to talk to someone about it.”

 

            “What you were doing didn’t look much like talking. In fact it looked a lot more like mating, and a lot more intimate then anything we’ve ever done,” her voice ends up a mere whisper.

 

            I nod and pull my mouth into a thin line.  I know exactly what she means and I can’t help how Buffy and I look together. It’s as natural as breathing is to a human. It’s just the way Buffy and I are, have always been and always will be.

 

            “I’m sorry.”

 

            “Who is she, Angel? Don’t give me the old friend crap. I don’t look like that with any of my old friends,” Liv’s voice goes hard and cold with pain.

 

            I take a deep breath. I’ve been putting this off. “She’s-“ God, how to describe Buffy to my fiancée? I have a hard enough time trying to describe to my friends what Buffy is. Buffy’s my girl from yesterday and sometimes I think she’s still my girl. “Buffy and I were lovers a long time ago.”

 

            “Buffy? The slayer, Dawn’s sister, Buffy?” Liv asks.

 

            I nod. Of course she would have heard about Buffy from Giles, Willow, Xander and Dawn. Sometimes I forget how much time she spends with them.

 

            Liv shakes her head. “A slayer, wow—I didn’t know I was going to have to fight for you, Angel, especially not a slayer.”

 

            “You don’t have to fight for me. I’m yours.”

 

            “That’s not what it looked like,” she says, tears lacing the edges of her voice.

 

            “I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing I can say and it’s true. I am sorry Liv saw us. Am I sorry about the rainstorm, bringing Buffy back to my apartment? I’m going to refrain from answering that until I know the answer myself, because honestly, I don’t know.

 

            “Do you love me, Angel?”

 

            “Yes,” I say. I don’t even have to think about it. I do love Liv without a doubt. Do I love her like I love Buffy? Don’t ask me that. I can’t compare them. I can’t even tell you what trying to compare the two would be like because there is no comparison.  Something Wes told me before I started seeing Nina rings in my ears.

 

            “99.999 ad infinitum percent of the best relationships in recorded history of the world have had to make do with acceptable happiness.”

 

            Acceptable happiness, nothing wrong with that and besides the track record for sustained perfect happiness in that .001 relationship, not so good.

 

            Liv looks at me; hurt and pain swim in her eyes.  I pull her into my arms and hold her tight. “I’m sorry.” I’m standing there in the hallway holding my fiancée and my thoughts keep wandering to the other blonde still in my apartment.

 

-Buffy-

 

            I’m standing in Angel’s apartment at a complete loss. I snoop around. There’s a silver framed photo on the night stand of a pretty lady with blond hair and blue eyes. I’m gonna venture a guess and say it’s Liv.  She looks like a nice person. She’s got a good smile.  I can tell she lives here. There are signs, things Angel would never have, like teddy bear collection on the bench in the bedroom. Oh, and the tampons in the bathroom. This is stupid. I’m not waiting around for Angel to come back. He’s gone after the woman he loves. He’s made his choice.

 

            I gather up my wet clothes in a towel and shove my damp hair out of my face. I’m on my way out of the apartment when Angel walks in with the pretty woman in the picture. I stop stock still. This is great, really. The first time I meet the fiancée I look like something out of the Creature From The Black Lagoon. Hello, were the Powers that Be not listening to my Gwyneth request? I tug self-consciously at the waist of Angel’s sweats, which hang dangerously low on my hips. I finally settle for a small smile and a wave.

 

            “Buffy, this is Liv. Liv, Buffy.”

 

            Thanks Angel, ‘preciate this really. Could this get anymore awkward? Don’t answer that. I guess we could have been naked. I paste on my best, brightest smile and stick out my hand. “Hi, I’m Buffy. Nice to meet you.” God, I sound like a Stepford wife.

 

            Liv manages a very weak smile. “Hi.”

 

            Not talkative, not that I can blame her. Honestly if I’d walked in on what she had to have seen, I would have been less with the talking, more with the hitting myself, but then I’m insanely jealous like that.

           

            “Listen, I’m just gonna grab a cab back to my hotel. I’ll wash these things and have the hotel send them back over to your office,” I say, edging toward the door.

 

            “Buffy,” Angel starts. God, he even says my name –that- way when she’s there.

 

            I shake my head and hold up my palm, fingers curling inward. “No, really.” If he says one more word I’m going to break down in front of the fiancée and the only thing worse than black lagoon creature is sobbing, hysterical black lagoon creature.

 

            Unfortunately for the cabbie, I don’t have the same sort of reserve in front of him. I’m a sobbing, snotty mess in the back seat. I barely get out my hotel name. To his credit, he doesn’t blink twice. Maybe sobbing, hysterical women aren’t that uncommon a thing in LA. The cab stops at the hotel and I shove some wet bills from my wet pants at the driver. I get out and take the stairwell up my room, hoping I can avoid everyone for the rest of my life.

 

Chapter Ten

 

-Angel-

 

            I thought it’d be this big bang, some kind of grand affair. It isn’t. I wake up gasping for breath, yeah-- gasping for breath.  I sit straight up in bed. My heart is pounding in my ears.  I hold my hand over my chest, sure I’m going to have a heart attack the first few seconds of being human. I glance over at the clock. 9:02.

 

            A laugh bubbles up inside of me. I get out of bed and fling open the curtains. I stand there, reveling in the fact that the sun is not burning me for a few seconds before I realize I’m naked and my neighbor is watching.  I can’t even summon up enough ire for a growl, which leads me to wonder-- can I growl? Can I purr? Buffy used to like it when I purred. Buffy.

 

            No, Liv.

 

            “Liv!” I shout and grab some pants from the end of the bed. I stumble into the living room, pulling the pants up.  I half fall in the kitchen and notice a note next to the coffee pot.

 

            Went to a literature lecture. I’ll see you up at the office later.

 

                                                                                    Love, Liv

 

            I’m human, and Liv’s not here to celebrate.

 

-Buffy-

 

            I wake up with a start. I’m not sure exactly what woke me, but I glance at the clock. 9:02. Might as well get up.  I step into the shower, letting the hot, hard spray wash over me. I’ve gotta end this thing with Angel. Neither of us can keep this up. He can’t train me. I can’t see him and not want him. It’s not fair to me, it’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to Liv.

 

I’m not gonna run, not this time, but only because I want to be a part of my friends’ lives now. I want to see Calie grow up. I want to see Willow and Oz’s children. I want to spend time with Giles. He looks too old to me. I can live in L.A. and not see Angel. It’s a big city. At least that’s what I tell myself.

 

I put on a pale pink silk dress that I bought in Italy because Francesca was always telling me my wardrobe was too dull. I slide my feet into ivory heels, a pair of Manolo Blahnik’s Cordy would have killed someone for in high school.  I leave my hair loose around my shoulders, grab a handbag and take a cab to Angel’s office. There’s no way I’m walking that far in these heels, besides walking would mess up the really good looking diva thing I’ve got going right now.

 

The front office is empty. I tap on Angel’s door. There’s a pause and then he says “Come in.”

 

I’m not surprised to find him standing in front of the windows.  He seems to do that a lot. I guess you’d begin to miss the sun after two hundred and fifty years of not seeing it.

 

“Buffy,” he says without turning around.

 

I smile sadly to myself. I’m going to miss the way he says my name. I’m going to miss that he feels me before I’m there and I wonder if he felt this way when he left me in Sunnydale all those years ago. “Hey.”

 

I walk over closer to him, not too close though because we all know what comes of that. “We’ve got to stop doing this.”

 

“Doing what?”

 

God, he’s not that dense. I sigh. “Angel, maybe it was really easy for you to go on after you sent me away. I didn’t think I was going to survive it. Buffy Summers didn’t survive. She died a little death and Anne Williams got born because I couldn’t live in a world where you didn’t love me.”

 

Angel shakes his head. He still hasn’t looked at me. “There are two things you need to know. First, I loved you so much that watching you walk away nearly killed me.” He turns and looks directly at me. I catch my breath. I’ve forgotten how intense Angel’s eyes are, how much emotion they carry.

 

“Second, I still do.” His gaze never wavers.

 

Tears scald my cheeks as they drip from my lashes. “Then why are you marrying her?”

 

Angel lets out a bone-deep sigh. “She’s-she doesn’t know who Angelus is. She doesn’t know about the things I’ve done. She’s not a part of that life. She never has been.”

 

“So what? You’re marrying someone you don’t love because you get to have a clean slate?”

 

“I never said I didn’t love her,” he says.

 

“You never said you did,” I accuse.

 

“Buffy,” his voice is full of bitter things like regret, pain and sorrow.

 

“I can’t, Angel. I thought I could stand up and have my heart broken one more time. I can’t. I can’t do it anymore.”

 

“Buffy, come here.” He holds his hand out to me.

 

I want to run. I want to run as far and as fast as my legs will take me. I can’t. I’ve never been able to run from Angel. I take his hand and it doesn’t register for a moment. Hell, it doesn’t register until he pulls me close and I feel his breath, warm breath, on my skin. When I do realize what’s happened-it’s-there are no words. It’s like-I don’t know. I can’t breathe. My chest is so tight and I can’t breathe. I can’t think and I can’t swallow or stop the tears.

 

“Can I?” I ask hesitantly and look at his chest.

 

He nods and folds me into his arms.  And all my dreams are coming true just moments before they’re whisked away. Angel’s heart is beating. My Angel. I don’t need to breathe. He’s doing it for me and if my heart stops beating, that’s okay, Angel’s heart is beating. Oh. God.

 

And that’s when Liv walks in. I start to pull away. I’m surprised when Angel holds onto me just a moment longer.  He releases me and we both stand there looking like we’ve been caught doing something much worse than holding each other.

 

Tears glitter in Liv’s eyes.  She bites her lips and glances back and forth between Angel and I.

 

“Buffy, could I speak to Angel alone please?”

 

And that, my friends is what you call courage under fire. I nod. “Yeah, I’m gonna-just-back to-I’m gonna go somewhere that’s not here. Now.”

 

I don’t even make it to the lobby before the tears start. I jerk the heels off my feet and run back to my hotel as fast as I can. I’ve got to get out of here.

 

-Angel-

 

            “Liv-“I start.

 

            “Don’t. Let me talk. I think you’ve done enough talking for the both of us today. I heard you, Angel. I heard everything you and Buffy said to each other,” she says.

 

            My throat closes and that breathing thing that humans make look so easy is actually coming pretty hard to me right now. “I’m sorry.”

 

            “So am I. Actually, no I’m not. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

 

            “Tell you what, Liv?” I ask.

 

            “Tell me that you’re in love with another woman,” she says.

 

            I shake my head and sigh. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Because it’s Buffy. For the rest of my life, whether its sixty years or sixty centuries, I will be in love with Buffy. That doesn’t change. She’s a part of me, a part of my soul, a part of everything I am.  That doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I do; it’s just…not the same.”

 

            “Don’t you think I deserve that, Angel? Don’t you think I deserve to be married to someone who loves me as much as you love Buffy?” Liv asks.

 

            I can’t look at her. She’s right. She’s an amazing woman, an amazing human being.  She does deserve someone who loves her as much as I love Buffy, or at least someone who doesn’t belong to another woman.  Liv steps toward me, she presses something into my hand and leaves a kiss on my cheek.

 

            “I’m going to go move my things-“

 

            “No, I can stay in the apartment here. You keep ours. I’ll move out,” I say. It’s the least I can do.

 

            Liv nods. “Alright. I’ll be gone all day tomorrow. If you’d come then, leave your key on the bar.”

 

            I can’t tell by feel or smell or hearing when she leaves, but when I turn around she’s gone. I open my fist. The one caret diamond engagement ring I bought her lies in my palm.

 

           

 

Chapter Eleven

 

-Buffy-

 

            I’m pounding on the door of Willow’s apartment. She flings it open like she’s used to emergencies that require people to pound on her door hysterically. She takes one look at me and pulls me inside. She leads me over to her couch and pulls me into her lap. Her fingers stroke my hair softly. That just makes the tears come harder.

 

            “I thought-I thought I could do it. I thought I could let him break my heart one more time,” I sob.

 

            “Oh, Buffy, I’m so sorry. I was afraid-I was afraid he wouldn’t leave her.”

 

            “Yeah, because he’s so damn good at leaving me. Why can’t he be good at leaving her? Why is it always me? ” I choke out.

 

            Willow holds me, rocking me the only way a best friend can. Angel breaks my heart and Willow is there to help me deal with the aftermath. Well, it’s good some things don’t change.  I don’t know how long we sit there on the couch, me crying, Willow crying and comforting me, but it’s good. It’s good to have my friends back and the life as Buffy Summers may suck beyond the telling of it, but she’s got really great friends. I wouldn’t want anyone else’s life, even with all the pain, heartache and slaying.

 

 I finish my crying jag, sit up and take the tissue Willow offers. I blow my nose, dab at my hopelessly tear stained cheeks and smile at Willow. “What did I ever do without you?”

 

            The red head shrugs and grins. “I dunno, doesn’t matter now.  I think I have some Cherry Garcia in the fridge. We can order some Chinese food, pig out on ice cream and watch bad ice skating movies. Oooo I have Ice Castles.”

 

            I grin at her. She really is a best friend, only a best friend would offer to watch that movie. Mom wouldn’t even watch it with me after the first six or seven viewings. “What about Oz?” I ask. I seriously don’t want to mess up anyone else’s relationship just because I’m drastically impaired in the area.

 

            Willow shakes her head. “Oz will deal. He’ll go to practice or something. He understands girl time.”

 

            The funny thing is Oz would. I nod. “In that case, yes please.”

 

            Willow orders Chinese food while I’m in the bathroom. I splash cold water over my face and level a gaze at myself in the mirror. At least I know this is it. Angel’s getting married and he won’t have the power to break my heart, not ever again.  My entire life I’ve been waiting for that one point when it’s all over with Angel. I never thought it would come. I thought Angel and I would be for always. Forever, that’s the whole point. Only it’s not, not anymore and I have to say, it’s a little bit of a relief.

 

 

-Angel-

 

            I’ve been all over the damn city. I went to her hotel. I went to the park where I found her in the rain storm. I went to Giles’ house and Dawn’s house. Apparently becoming human stole some of my brain cells because I’m just now standing in front of Willow’s apartment.

 

            “Make sure you get that yummy sweet and sour sauce!” I hear from inside. My heart, yeah the beating one, actually skips a beat. It’s Buffy’s voice. If I hadn’t lost a portion of my brain I would have come here first.

 

            Willow opens the door and the smile on her face immediately turns to anger. “What do you want?”

 

            “Can I-can I talk to Buffy?” I ask.

 

            “No, she just stopped crying. I’m not letting you make her cry again,” Willow says. She crosses her arms over her chest.

 

            “Please, Willow. I need to talk to Buffy,” I plead.

 

            A frown creases her brow and she glances up at the bright, sunlit sky and then at me. Her hand covers her mouth and a look of wonderment crosses her face. “You’re-oh God, it happened. You’re human.” The look of resolve comes back. “No. Human or not, you still can’t talk to her.”

 

            “I’m not marrying Liv and I’d love nothing more then to marry Buffy, but I can’t if you won’t let me talk to her.”

 

            Willow gets pale. She steps aside and it’s odd to be able to walk into her apartment, an apartment I’ve never been inside, without a verbal invitation. Buffy is sitting on the couch. Her eyes are puffy and red. She’s wearing something of Willow’s, not the pale pink dress she ran away in.  She swallows hard and tears fill her eyes as she sees me walk in.

 

            “We thought you were Chinese,” she says.

 

            “No, Irish.” Lame attempt at a joke, I know.

 

            “I’m gonna go be in my room and not here. If you make her cry I’ll make you go bald,” Willow threatens me.

 

            I chuckle and nod at her.  I gesture toward the couch. “Can I sit down?” I ask Buffy.

 

            She nods, probably afraid to speak; afraid it’ll come out a squeak. I know because I’m afraid of the same thing. I don’t have a choice. I made this mess and it’s up to me to fix it.

 

            I rest my elbows on my knees, my hands loosely knitted between them. “Liv left me.”

 

            Buffy smiled brokenly. “So, what? I’m the consolation prize?”

 

            I shake my head. “She left me because she wants to be married to someone who loves her as much as I love you.”

 

            “Oh,” she breathes.

 

            “I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. The reason I sent you away five years ago had nothing to do with not loving you. I love you, Buffy. I love you so much that it hurts inside to think about never seeing you again, never touching you again. I sent you away because it hurt so much knowing that you were seeing someone else after we’d had that ridiculous discussion about cookies. I thought-I guess I thought you’d close the Hellmouth and come meet me in LA,” I confess.

 

            Buffy twists her hands in front her and looks down at the ground. “I wanted to. There was nowhere else on earth I would have rather been. That’s why I couldn’t come.”

 

            I look at her. Have I mentioned that after all this time I still don’t get Buffy?

 

            She smiles and shakes her head a little. “It’s like- I didn’t know who Buffy was. I knew who Buffy and Angel were, then you left and I knew who Buffy and Riley were, then Riley left and I knew who Buffy and Spike were. I never took the time to find out who Buffy was, all by herself. God, I know I sound crazy talking about myself in third person.  It’s like-did you ever see that movie Runaway Bride? She liked her eggs however the person she was with liked his eggs. She didn’t know how she liked her own eggs. I was like that, only without the eggs because neither you nor Spike actually eat eggs.  Anyway, the Immortal was part of all that. I needed to know what it was like to be in relationship that wasn’t serious at all and I needed to know what it was like to not be a relationship at all.”

 

            “So do you know now?” I ask, not daring to hope.

 

            Buffy bites down on her lower lip, slowly her mouth curves into a smile. “I know now and I like who I am. I guess if we’re going to go with the whole ridiculous discussion, I’m cookies.”

 

 

Epilogue

 

-Buffy-

 

            I unlock the door to our apartment, yeah Angel’s and mine. There was no use me getting my own when he was all human and soul bound and mine.  All the lights are off and candles are everywhere. I smile. Angel is prone to candle light dinners. I think it’s just an excuse for him to eat more.  I drop my shopping bag by the door and wander a little further in.

 

            There’s a trail of candles and Hershey’s kisses strung throughout the house. I follow them with a giggle, expecting to be led into the bedroom so I’m surprised when the trail curves toward the guest bathroom. It leads all the way to the shower. I push back the glass door and find the floor of the shower has been littered with red rose petals. I grin and pick up the fancy piece of parchment taped to the tile.

 

            Now that I’ve kissed the ground you walk on

            And showered you with rose petals

            Will you marry me?

 

            The tears are fresh and hot against my cheeks. I clutch the note to my chest and turn, feeling Angel behind me. That whole sensing each other thing, not something we ever lost. Apparently it has more to do with souls then it does with vampires and slayers.

 

            Angel is there on one knee with a ring box. He takes the ring out and takes my left hand in his. The ring he slips on it is a perfect platinum claddagh with a heart shaped diamond in the middle.

 

            “Buffy Anne Summers, will you marry me?”

 

            “Only if you promise me forever and always,” I say amid my tears.

 

            He stands up and pulls me into him, gracing my lips with a kiss. “There has never been a moment that you haven’t been my forever and my always.”

 

            Some things never change-- well the good things never change.

             

 

           

 

             

 

 

 

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