Disclaimer: You know the drill. I own nothing. That honor belongs to Mr. Joss Whedon, the lucky bastard.

Spoilers: Up to Buffy season 6 and Angel season 3

Summary: Sequel to ‘I Don’t Know You Anymore. Buffy goes to LA and confronts Angel after he discovered Buffy’s affair with Spike. With his own two eyes mind you. From Buffy’s POV.

Rating: PG-14

Feedback: Be my guest! (slayage@hotmail.com)

Comment: For this fic, let’s pretend that Angel doesn’t know about Connor. It’s gonna make things too complicated. This is pre-Connor. Okay?

 

 

I’m going to LA. I know I probably shouldn’t. Scratch that. I know I shouldn’t, but I feel like I owe Angel an explanation. I owe him at least that much.

Over an hour later, I reach the Hyperion. As I walk towards the front doors, I breathe in deeply, and exhale, trying to rid my nerves. And trying to gather my strength. Just as I push open the doors, I immediately hear Cordelia’s wonderful voice. Enter sarcasm here.

"Well, well, well. Look who’s here." I keep my face deadpan, not wanting to show anyone but Angel my true feelings about what he witnessed last night. "Cordelia," I say as greeting. "I’m assuming you know why I’m here. So let’s just cut to the chase. Where is he?"

After a few minutes of convincing and bickering, Cordy finally directs me to Angel’s room. "There ya go ma’am," she says sarcastically. "Try to be discreet when you rip his undead heart from his chest again, will ya?" She says cheerily, as she makes her exit known with a dirty glance.

I once again repeat my ritual of deep inhalations and exhalations, then gather enough courage to finally knock on the door. I don’t even know what I’m going to say to him.

"Who is it?" I hear his muffled voice from the other side. I find my voice after a moment, and answer what you would think would be a simple question to answer. "I don’t think you wanna know," I say, trying to start our encounter off on a light tone. I hear him sigh in his room, and wonder if he’ll just ignore me until I go away. Haven’t really thought of that scenario, have we Buffy? I think to myself. But my uncertainties are put to rest when I hear him turn the handle.

As the door opens wider and wider to reveal his form, it’s obvious I’m the last person he wants to see today. "Hi. Mind if I come in?" I hope he doesn’t answer the way I think he will. Instead, he says nothing, simply steps aside and opens the door wider for me to enter. As I walk passed him, he stares at the far wall, at the floor. Everywhere but at me.

He remains silent, so I decide to start the, what is soon–to-be, unpleasant conversation.

"Okay, look. I know that you said you needed time. Well, to be more precise you said you couldn’t look at me, but…. I had to come." I stare into his eyes. "I couldn’t stand to think of what must be going through your mind right now. What you think of me. I mean, I’m sure disgust is a big part of it, but you have to hear me out. I know you’ll never really forgive me for what happened, but I’ve gotta say this. So…are you gonna listen?" I ask innocently, my legs shaking just a bit.

"Fine," was his first word to me.

"Good." Inhale, exhale. It’s not that hard. Not knowing how to start, I just blurt it out. "I was in heaven." I wait for his reaction. What I see on his face is pretty much what I expected. It gives me proof that he still cares about me, no matter how disgusted he is.

"What?" he whispers, now staring directly at me.

"I know I told you I was in hell, I told everyone that, but it was just a cover up." I pause for a moment. "It was the most incredible place wherever it was. I was at complete peace. I was finished, with everything. There was no hurt, there was no fear, there was no pain. There was just…peace. That’s the only word to describe it." I watch him as he studies my face, tries to read what I’m feeling, what I felt when I was in that wonderful place. "I’m so sorry," he says sincerely, and I know he wants to bear the pain for me. But he can’t.

"Look, if you think I want your pity, you’re wrong. That’s not why I’m telling you this." Another pause. "I couldn’t tell my friends what they had taken from me. I just had to pretend they saved me from some unheard of hell dimension. And it was killing me. It was like I had no emotion. I just couldn’t feel anything. And then, one night, I kissed Spike." I can see Angel visibly wince at the mention of the vampire’s name. And I see the hardness return to his eyes.

"I know this is hard to hear, but it’s important." He nods. "When I kissed him, I did feel something. I knew it wasn’t real, I knew that. But I felt alive. For the first time in a long time, I felt alive. And, needless to say, one night, it went too far. Farther than I would’ve ever thought possible. One time became two times, two turned into three, three-,"

"Okay. Thanks. I get it," he cuts me off, angrily. I immediately kick myself for getting carried away in my explanation. I just want so badly for him to understand.

"Sorry," I say softly. "So, there it is. That’s why. I know it doesn’t really help, but I had to get that out there. You had to know."

"Are you done?" he asks, a bit coldly. I nod. "Alright, I guess it’s my turn then." I prepare myself for the worst. He speaks softly. "First of all, I’m sorry for what happened to you, that you had to go through that. But it’s not my fault that you couldn’t talk to anybody. I mean, other than Spike. I realize you didn’t want to tell your friends.

"So how ‘bout me Buffy? Huh? Did I just cease to exist when you came back? You could’ve told me." I look at him, about to say something more, but he cuts me off with his hand before I can start. "Do you have any idea what it was like to see what I saw? God Buffy, a part of me died last night, just seeing that. Seeing you in his arms…. I can barely say it." As his emotions get the better of him, he stops for a moment, looks at the floor. "You should be with me." I’m shocked, and I look at him intently, waiting for what he’s going to say next.

"But I left, and I ruined it." My heart quickly sinks. "I left so you could be with a normal guy, someone who could give you a good life. Someone who could make you happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. Happiness. I know I’ve said this all before but I still don’t think you understand. I love you. I will always love you. And seeing you with Spike, forget about the fact that he’s a soulless vampire. That should be me. I should be the one who gets to hold you, to make you feel. To make you feel alive. But instead, he gets to be that guy." The tears slowly begin to well in both our eyes. "Yeah, that’s right, it’s all about jealousy. I want you for myself. Are you happy now?" I just look at him, keeping silent, letting him get this out of his system. "I mean, with Riley, God, I wanted to rip his throat out for touching you, I won’t lie. But he was a normal guy. I knew he could make you happy. So of course, I didn’t interfere, because that’s what I wanted for you. I don’t see how Spike could ever make you happy." I look at him sadly. "I should be the guy you turn to when you’re hurting."

"Who says you can’t be?" I ask him, as my tears begin to flow more freely. He looks at me curiously as I take one step toward him. Then another. And then I’m in his arms, and he’s holding me, and for those few seconds, everything is right in the world. He begins to cry softly into my hair, and he holds me so tightly, like he never wants to let me go again. But we both know he has to. We move slowly out of the embrace, and our lips are so close together. God I wanna kiss him so bad. Just one more time. "I’m sor-." He cuts off my repetitive apology with a soft, gentle, but passionate kiss, and we taste eachother’s tears. Just from that one little kiss, I show him how much I love him, and make him know that my heart will always belong to him. Until the end of time.

Reluctantly, we break apart, and he cups my face with both of his hands. "I’m sorry," he says this time, and I smile a sad smile. We look into eachother’s eyes, and by doing this, into eachother’s souls. We may never be together, at least not in this lifetime. But just knowing what we mean to eachother….that’s enough. For now.

I whisper to him. "Next time I come back from the grave, you’ll be the first person I talk to." We both laugh softly, and our foreheads touch.

"You have to go now, love," he says softly.

"I know."