Summary: Pure fluff. My way of not letting go of the past. (I'm not a
creature of change.)
Spoilers: Through GD2.
Disclaimer: Joss made the characters. Though I wish he'd make them happier
sometimes.
Rating: G.
Feedback: Yummy.
Thanks to Tracy, who is just so damn nice about beta-ing for me that I could cry.

Buffy looked at her clock.

It was late in the day. He would probably be asleep by now. She sighed
heavily, shoving her books aside. Her eyes latched hungrily on the phone.
Just one fix, and maybe things would be easier to handle for her. She was
the first to admit that she was having a harder time at college than she had
expected or hoped for.

Without letting herself think, she picked up the phone and punched in his
number. It would be the first time she had talked to him since...

Since he had left.

He answered immediately, but Buffy heard the sleep in his voice and she
berated herself silently for waking him. "Hello?"

"A-Angel?"

"Buffy," he murmured, sounding pleased. "I was just..." He trailed off,
unsure if he should say what he was about to.

"You were just?" Buffy prompted.

"Dreaming about you," he finished softly.

Her heart melted, and she smiled to herself, settling into the couch. She
pretended that she was leaning back against his chest, that his cool, strong
arms were wrapped around her waist. Opening her eyes against the vision, she
sighed. "What were you dreaming about?" she finally asked.

"I was dreaming that you were lonely. That you were alone in your room and
studying and you missed me," he admitted, for once deciding to not be cryptic
and simply tell her the truth.

Buffy's mouth dropped open, both at his confession and at the startling
similarities between his dream and the truth. "I... was. Am," she said
quietly.

Angel sat up, smoothing his hair back with his hand. He closed his eyes and
thought he could see and feel Buffy's startled smile, her fresh and open blue
eyes, the warmth of her skin. "Are you okay?"

"Sometimes," she answered, "But sometimes... Not. I miss you, Angel."

"I miss you too," he said softly.

Her mood lightened suddenly. She realized she was talking to Angel. She
realized that he still loved her, that things were okay, even if he wasn't
there, and she was finally *talking* to him. "So, do you still remember what
I look like?" she asked, her voice shifting from serious to teasing in a
matter of seconds.

Angel laughed. "Not possible to forget."

"As in, 'you're such a circus freak, Buffy, I could never forget the horror
that is you?' " She grinned.

"As in, 'you're the most beautiful woman in the world, Buffy, I could never
forget the brilliance that is you," he answered, willing to play her game, at
least for a little while.

"Really?"

"Really," he confirmed. "I dream about you every night. And... I shouldn't
be saying any of this."

"Why not?"

"Buffy," he said seriously, "I left so that you could... get over me. I left
so you didn't have to depend on me. I'm not good for you."

Her lower lip trembled and she bit it. "Are you getting over me?"

"No."

"Then why do I have to get over you?" she bit out. "Angel, I appreciate
this, I really do. And maybe you're right about us being together, as in,
all the time, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm not going to ever
stop loving you. Can't we just have... a little piece of what we used to?
I'm not asking for it all, Angel. Just a little. That's enough."

"It is?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," she told him firmly. "Now. What do you miss most about me?"

He smiled. "Your eyes. And your kisses."

"Why?" she wondered out loud. "Why my eyes?"

"Just because... That's what I miss. It's my answer, and I'm not going to
change it!"

Buffy giggled at his stubbornness. "Okay. Do you even remember what color
they are?"

"I've never known what color they were," he said softly, trying to picture
her delighted face.

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused. "You've never looked in my eyes
before? Angel, that's not possible. We've stared at each other so many
times that... I don't know if I should be shocked or just offended."

Angel chuckled. "I don't mean that I've never seen your eyes. I meant that
I've never figured out the color. Sometimes it's blue, bluer than I remember
the sky being in summer, and other times...."

Buffy held her breath. "Other times?"

"Other times it's green. A soft pastel green. Nothing about you is
ordinary, Buffy, or less than perfect."

Buffy gave a little sigh of rapture. "You must study to find the most
romantic things to say to me."

"Hey, I've cut down to three hours of studying a night," he laughed.

Buffy quieted for a moment. "I love you, Angel."

"I... Love you too. I love you too."

The moment grew poignant, and Angel stilled, listening to the sound of
Buffy's breath over the phone line. Her voice, her eyes, her breath. All
pastel, really. All perfect and soft and velvety.

"Feel like company?" she asked suddenly.

"When?"

"This Friday," she murmured. "It marks a four day weekend. My dad has been
pressing me to come see him in... Oh, look at that! He lives in LA. What a
coincidence."

Angel hid a laugh. "That's so interesting. I think you should visit him. I
think you should visit him and meet with some friends to do something."

"Like go clubbing?"

"Like help save the world," he corrected, amused. "But, in a big city."

"You forget, Angel, that I was saving the world from that city long before
you even met me," she giggled.

"And you forget, Buffy, that I saw you *before* you started saving the
world-- Before you even knew that it was needed."

"All right," she gave. "Got me there."

His voice dropped huskily. "See you on Friday?"

"Count on it."

"Love me?"

"Love me?"

"On three?"

"Okay."

"One... two... three."

They spoke in unison. "Love you."

Buffy sighed. "Can't wait."

"Me neither."

"Don't meet another girl before then, okay?"

Angel rolled his eyes, laughing into the phone. "The only girl I see, other
than the ones I'm helping, is Cordelia. You don't need to worry, I promise."

"What about the ones you're helping?"

"I have a strict office policy," he said instantly.

"But you'll make an exception for me?" she asked.

"If you'll do the same."

"I will," she said softly. She looked at the clock. "I should let you go.
I love you, Angel."

"I love you too."

They disconnected.

In Sunnydale, Buffy rested her hand on the phone, not willing to break all
connection with him just yet. Her palm tingled and her heart sped up. She
felt like he was in the room with her.

In Los Angeles, Angel's hand rested on the phone. He didn't want to stop
hearing Buffy's voice or smelling her scent or seeing those eyes. He didn't
want that to go away. And suddenly, his palm tingled and he felt he could
smell her vanilla perfume, like she was there with him. He lifted his hand,
satisfied.

The tingling in her palm stopped and she laid down on the couch, closing her
eyes for a moment. She saw him, the rich brown of his eyes, the secrets and
pain he held, the truth and unspoken promises of his kisses, and her heart
thundered, as if she was really looking at him, touching him, kissing him.
She smiled to herself.

Maybe, somewhere, in their dreams... She was.

The End

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