Summary: Buffy and Angel say goodbye. (Not *exactly* an angstyfic, but
sort of. Thought I'd warn you.)
Spoilers: Through Graduation, tentatively. And for Choices. (I expanded on
the nap.)
Disclaimer: Joss. Duh. You think *I'm* that smart? :) The song is "Losing
My Religion" by REM. Thanks to Laura for the lyrics.
Rating: PG
For Pamela, just because she likes them so damn much. < g > Sorry I
made her cry.
Note: ~~ Indicates moving back and forth between the past and present.
by: Amy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night was cool, but not cold as Buffy walked through the cemetery on her rounds. The sound of the crickets kept her from thinking, always thinking, thinking too much. Those crickets seemed to be calling her name, warming her, making her feel at home among the dead. She heard a twig snap behind her and she spun on her heel, lifting her stake.
"Buffy!" Angel cried. Her hand faltered and she looked up at him, her eyes dark with questions and unspoken words. He took the stake gently away from her, and she knew, somehow she knew, deep down, that it was time.
His hand covered hers and she took it, pressed it warmly, her lips trembling. And she was reminded of a night, not too long ago, but in a different time, when she had held his hand.
**Life is bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no I've said too much
I set it up**
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The air was quiet and the kisses heated as Angel pressed her against a cement wall. His hands wound themselves through her hair, touching, stroking, infinitely seductive and soothing. Buffy curled her arms around his back, pulling him closer, though they could never be close enough. His mouth was crushed against hers, his body crushed against hers, seeking, wanting and when they finally pulled away, she was breathless.
Her smile was warm. "I like patrolling with you *much* better than when I do it with Giles."
He smiled back down at her. "I just hope that you actually get some patrolling done when you're with him."
Buffy pretended offense. "You think I make out with every guy I go on the hunt with?"
He laughed, his eyes bright. "Hope not."
Pulling him to her again, she murmured against his mouth. "You don't need to hope, Angel," she said softly. He kissed her, hungrily, and their hands clasped, the fingers lacing together. She extracted herself from his embrace again. "It's dead tonight. Um, no pun intended. We've only gotten two, but I think we're done here."
He nodded, his eyes on her, always on her. "Do you want to come back to my place and take a nap before you head home?"
Her eyes held his for a moment before she murmured her assent. They walked through the peacefulness of the graveyard, holding hands, enjoying the quiet companionship they could only get with each other.
**That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it**
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Well, say it," Buffy demanded quietly, her anger drained. "Just say it so I don't have to worry anymore, okay?"
His face was sad, and he squeezed her hand. He watched her expression, trying to glean what he could from it, but it was hard and cold; closed off. "I wish there was another way, Buffy."
She glanced up through her lashes. "There is. Stay."
He shook his head, not wanting to deny her, but not wanting to lie to her either. "I can't do that and you know why. It hurts both of us to think about the future. It hurts you, or it will, to know that I won't ever be able to give you everything you wanted as a child. It hurts me to know that one day, years and years from now, I would have to watch you die from old age and know that your life could have been so much more than it was with me."
She looked around wildly, searching for an argument to thwart him with. "We were happy, Angel! I was happy, you were doing okay... We didn't think and we don't need to." Her voice broke and she let her tears fall. "We're better together, more together."
He lifted his free hand to touch her face, trace the smooth skin of her cheekbone. "Shh... I know, I know." He pulled her toward him, held her face against his chest as she cried.
**Oh no I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try**
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The mansion was dark and the stone walls were chilly as they entered. He glanced at her as she looked around, her eyes settled on the fireplace. He grinned gently. "Want me to light it?"
Her vigorous nodding made him laugh and he set about doing it. Once the fire was blazing, they sat on the couch, twisted in each other's arms, watching it. It leapt merrily from time to time, all orange heat and crackling substance. Buffy lifted her head, observing him and his face, painting a mental image of him in her mind. He glanced down, caught her eye.
"What are you thinking?"
"Just that we're lucky," she answered promptly. Her voice dropped to almost a whisper as she reached up to touch his face, relishing in the contours that she knew by heart. "Really, really lucky. More lucky than I had ever expected."
He rubbed her shoulder with his free hand. Gazing at her, he replied in a hushed tone. "I know what you mean, Buffy. I really do."
She smiled and sighed and leaned up. Their lips melted together in a fiercely sweet kiss, and every perfect feeling Buffy had ever thought she had experienced was surpassed in that embrace. She slipped away from his mouth long enough to whisper "I love you," and began kissing him again. He didn't reply.
But then, he didn't have to.
**Every whisper
Of every waking hour I'm
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool
Oh no I've said too much
I set it up**
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy yanked out of his arms, not wanting his comfort at all if she couldn't depend on it forever. Striding away from him quickly, as if to leave, she suddenly stopped and he stared at her slender, quietly shaking back. He approached her tentatively and touched her shoulder, wincing when she shied away from his hand.
"Do you really think I want to leave?"
The words were hushed, but she heard them and shrugged, an unconvincing display of nonchalance. He placed his hand on her shoulder more firmly and pulled her around to look at him. Her face was streaked with tears, her mascara running and her lips swollen and red with crying.
She was so beautiful to him.
**Consider this
The hint of the century
Consider this
The slip that brought me
To my knees failed**
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He liked looking at her. When she was awake and smiling like she was eternally optimistic, when she was asleep and her face was relaxed, untroubled by the burdens of her unique calling. Her lashes grazed her skin and he found his hand lifting of its own accord. Not touching her, he let his hand trail the air above her face, float over her lips and forehead and those beautiful, large blue eyes that he had fallen so in love with.
She shifted in her sleep, mewling slightly and he was even more enchanted when she mumbled "Angel..."
He leaned down and kissed her, and her lips were sleep-warmed and soft. She responded to the kiss automatically, the kiss of dreams, and her arms slipped up to lightly circle his shoulders. He smiled gently as she sank her tongue into his mouth, still a soft kiss, but intense nonetheless and as sweet as it ever had been, ever could be.
He pressed her passively into the mattress, which sank underneath their weight and the kiss went on and on, ever gentle, tender. Soon he acknowledged her need for air and pulled away to look at her warmly. She was still sleeping, her arms still wrapped around him, her face still peaceful, tranquil. His eyes followed her every breath and she was precious to him, there, in that quiet, sleeping embrace.
He knew the thoughts would eventually come, but he would force them away and let them come later.
For now, he just wanted to watch her.
**What if all these fantasies
Come flailing around
Now I've said too much
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try**
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"But I love you," she cried softly, disturbing the stillness. When Angel didn't answer after a long moment, she shrugged away from him again. She turned to walk away, but he caught her elbow and spun her around to face him. She stumbled slightly, falling into his arms and he lifted her up so that she was steady. Her eyes met his, such dark eyes, eyes that had seen so much death, more than she had seen, eyes that held so much pain and still found room to hold his love for her. Buffy shuddered against him.
"I love you too, Buffy. But it has to be this way. You know that as well as I do... Maybe better, subconsciously."
Numbly, she shook her head. She knew no such thing. Angel sighed, pulling her close. Once more, for the last time in possibly a great while, she held him back, sinking into the comfort she had known since she had met him, the safety in his arms. Her tears wet his shirt but still he held her, stroking her back soothingly, murmuring meaningless words into her hair.
And once more, one last time, Buffy lifted her tear streaked face to catch his lips in a kiss. It was sweet, too sweet, bittersweet, and Angel found himself trembling, shaking, his love for her a tangible thing that was filtering through the air, making it static and warm. His hands found her hair and he smoothed it, then trailed down to take her hands. They stood, holding hands, one mouth kissing the other, only Angel couldn't figure out who was holding who's hand, and who was kissing whom.
He lifted his mouth away from hers, still quivering and dropped a kiss onto her forehead. "I love you, Buffy."
And she replied, one more time, one last time, answering without hesitation and with all of the acceptance in the world shining through in her voice.
"I love you, Angel."
Squeezing her hands, he looked at her for a long moment before turning on his heel and walking quickly away, not able to see more of her tears, not wanting to show her his. She watched him walk away, that same familiar walk she would recognize anywhere, and looked quietly at his back as he disappeared into the night.
Buffy sighed and then turned to walk in the opposite direction. The sound of the crickets was now taunting.
But they still called her name.
**But that was just a dream.
That was just a dream.**
The End