Pairing: BA
Rating: PG
Summary: Inspired by Tango's vids, parts 6-7, the scene where Angel calls Buffy and hangs up on her.
Thanks Sarah for the beta!

Buffy stood up as the phone rang in the kitchen. It rang again and Buffy sprinted to it and picked it up with a breathy hello. There was no response on the other line. Her heartbeat raced faster. It was Angel. She clutched the phone to her ear tighter. Say something, she thought desperately. A minute went by and she didn't hang up, hoping he would get the nerve to finally speak.

Nearing the close of the second minute, Buffy panicked, knowing he'd put the phone down as soon as it passed. "Don't hang up!"

Silence beat in her ears. She felt nervous and elated when she didn't get the operator's voice.

"Angel, I know it's you," Buffy said after a few deep breaths. "Only you would call and hang up so many times. Please, don't talk. If you do I might not have the guts to say this and it needs to be said."

Buffy twirled the phone cord around her fingers and shifted to face the wall noticing for the first time the tiny cracks in the wallpaper. "I miss you," she admitted, tears springing into her voice and eyes. "I miss you so much I'm surprised I haven't died of it."

When the sentiment wasn't returned she blinked, scrubbing furiously at the escaping tears. "I finally have the retorts to your allegations about us and here they are," Buffy said with a self- deprecating chuckle, resting her head against the wall.

"Picnics are infinitely more romantic at night on the beach with the surf lapping over our toes. We could wrap ourselves up in a blanket and star gaze, seeing if we could count them all. You would pick one out and call it mine and we'd kiss, ignoring the stars completely then."

Buffy felt her cheeks blush as she glanced back into the living room, noting that her mom was still absorbed in the movie. Facing the wall again, she said softly, "Being able to love and being loved in returned is a far greater pleasure than anything gleaned from making love. Making love is just one way to express it. Don't get me wrong, it's great and all. But if it comes down to everything and nothing with you, it doesn't with me. I treasure every moment we spent cuddling in front of your fireplace watching the flames, and every stolen kiss in the graveyard while we were supposedly on patrol. I would like to think you do too."

She hadn't been hung up on yet, so she figured he was listening. Buffy closed her eyes, wishing he was beside her, holding her while she made this speech. Wishing he'd never left after graduation. "Kids--if I ever even considered having them that is-- Angel, the kids of a slayer are hostages and cannon fodder. And the hellmouth isn't exactly the perfect suburban picture to bring a child up in. I don't want the 2.5 kids and white picket fence. You wanted it for me."

"You thought I would resent you when I'm fifty and you still look twenty-eight. Or when I'm eighty and you're a young 314 years. I resent you at eighteen, Angel. I resent you for making all the decisions for us and not once listening to me and what I had to say about us. It's something I could forgive you of though, because you thought you had my best intentions at heart, even if they were actually yours."

Buffy stole another glance at her mother, who was now absently placing popcorn in her mouth as she watched Jack draw Rose. She shook her head and looked out the kitchen window at the yard. "I once told you strength lay in fighting and not giving up. I'm strong enough to fight for us Angel. Are you? We have something that only comes around once. Don't give us up because you're too scared to try. You are my sunlight, Angel. I walk in darkness without you."

She thought she might have heard something on his end at the words, but she couldn't tell for sure. "I love you, Angel," Buffy said succinctly. "That's really all I have to say."

She paused with the receiver in her hand waiting for him to comment. She waited in vain, and slowly, reluctantly placed the phone down. This time she hung up on him and it left her hollow. Buffy didn't go back to finish watching Titanic with her mom, instead she climbed the stairs and slipped quietly into her room. A doomed relationship was a little too close to home for her.

Summer was nearly over and the fall semester would start soon. Part of her thought he'd realize his mistake and come back to Sunnydale. Part of her thought that he'd realize that he couldn't live without her. School girl fantasies, Buffy thought bitterly, shutting the door and leaning against it.

Tears trickled down her cheeks as she shook her head back and forth, trying to negate the knowledge that he wasn't with her. Her stomach felt like a chewed up ball being gnawed on the inside as well as out; her heart felt like a lead weight, falling to her toes; and her face felt hot and sticky as she scrunched it up in grief.

A cool touch cupped her cheek and she started, opening her eyes. Her mouth fell open as a single tear squeezed itself out. His thumb brushed it away, followed by his mouth trailing little kisses over both cheeks, nose, forehead, and finally lips. She opened for him and he slipped inside, kissing gently and thoroughly.

Fresh tears washed down her face as he embraced her to his chest causing him to pull back. Anguish lurked in his eyes as his thumbs grew slick with her tears.

"Don't cry," he whispered, resting his forehead against her own.

Buffy gripped his arms, raising her face to his, blindly seeking his mouth. "Please, don't be a dream," she murmured, raising herself on tiptoe another inch, closing the space between them.

"I'm not."

Her kiss grew frantic as she tried to climb into him. He matched her in desperation, picking her up and pressing her against the door. A choked half-sob escaped her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands gripped her butt and her legs opened to encircle his hips. Deep open mouthed kisses drove them closer to the edge.

"Angel, Angel, Angel," came her breathless litany.

Angel smiled into the kiss and pulled her tighter against him. Buffy tilted her head up, and his lips trailed down over her chin to nuzzle the column of her neck. Her fingers fisted in his hair as she rode the sensations ripping through her. One thought kept running through her head--he was back, he was back, he was back.

She slid her hands down to his shoulders and around to his chest, caressing the skin above the buttoned-collar. He nipped her throat, his hand sliding over her hip to rest below her breast on her ribcage. His thumb slid back and forth along the underside of the soft swell.

Buffy's fingers deftly unbuttoned his shirt all the way to his navel. Eagerly, she slipped her hands inside to run over the cool pale skin exposed to her. Angel's fingers flexed before he pulled himself away, taking her hands in his to stop her. Her eyes met his and held.

"We can't Buffy," Angel stated, for both their benefits.

He knew he wouldn't be able to restrain himself if they kept it up. He had only so much strength in him.

"Right," she said sadly. "Look but don't touch."

"Touching is okay, it's what happens after touching that we shouldn't--can't let happen."

"You're here--here to stay?"

"If you'll have me," he stated, straightening up and slowly buttoning his shirt with his left hand. "I can't give you everything, like sunlight and sex, but I--"

"I only need you," Buffy injected, stepping towards him.

"I can give you my heart and my soul," Angel continued, smirking down at her.

She touched his arm, looking up at him. "That's all I ever wanted." He led her to the bed pushing her down onto the comforter before closing the window and the blinds. Then he joined her, wrapping her in his arms. He closed his eyes and just listened; to her breathing, to her heartbeat, to the comfortable silence that was always with them.

He knew he would get around to telling her about going to LA and getting a tiny apartment. It was a pit of filth more so than a place to live. He would tell her about every time he thought of her and how the pain grew exponentially until he succumbed to picking up the phone and calling her, just to hear her breathing. He would explain why he hung up and never said a word and how he kept convincing himself that being away from her was for the best. He'd tell her that that tiny contact with her had sustained him for a couple of days until he called again.

Angel knew they'd get around to talking about all of that and after talking about that he'd have to talk about why he was back. He'd tell Buffy, that tonight he'd felt so lonely he had hopped into his car and driven the hours it normally took to get to Sunnydale in an hour. It would be known that he'd waited hours in the cemeteries for her to show up just so he could see her again and watch her fight, and that when she didn't show up he'd called again as he walked to her house from Restfield.

Then she'd learned that her bravery and courage saved him again. That her every word echoed in the hollow cavity of his heart. She would cling to his words then as he'd clung to her own minutes ago. Finally, after all that conversation he'd say what he'd meant to start out with--the words that would redeem him in her eyes--I love you, Buffy-Anne Summers. Only then would they be healed. Speeches could be made later. Right now, he just wanted to feel.

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