Angel sat shrouded in the empty darkness of his office. Thinking. It had become his nightly ritual after work now, and the others had long since stopped asking questions. They knew that he would think of her. But how can you make someone move on with their life when they breathe the past?

He sighed heavily, weary after a day of talking to people. That was by far the most difficult part of his job. The ass-kicking he could handle, but the conversations - they were the killers. People made him feel uncomfortable - exposed in some way. The only one with whom he could ever be at complete ease was… well, he would have to grow accustomed to a life of discomfort now.

Life. Could it be called that really? Cordelia was constantly insulting him about not having a life, and Doyle was repeatedly trying to make him acquire one. He used to 'have' a life. Back when things like life and living had mattered. But it was no use dwelling on forbidden memories, memories he could no longer touch like soft skin… Besides, now he was just content in this steady solitaire omniscience. 'Life' was so much easier if he were not part of it.

And yet. These past nights - ever since Spike had given him a kick down memory lane to Hell - Angel had been wondering a lot about Life in the sunlight. Should he have kept the Ring? Hadn't Buffy wanted him to?… Buffy in sunlight. God, he hadn't experienced that since…- but he should not…

He could still smell the heat of the sun's rays as they reflected off the sparkling sand, still see the swirls of color splashed across the sky at sunset. Granted, the Ring would never have changed who he was inside - that was his curse - but it might have linked him to the rest of the world in a way he had only dreamed. To the world that was forever out of his reach. To Her.

But perhaps it was already too late to reach out to it - to her - even if he had decided differently: The world changes, people change. And he remains the same, alone, unmoving. From what Spike had said, she had changed - and although that knowledge knifed through his heart, he could not hope to love or even comfort her. For he remains the same, alone, unmoving. The time for self-delusion was over, and it had ended with his much-overdue exit from Sunnydale.

So no - it would have been wrong to have kept the Ring. Wrong, Angel. It would have been a selfish act, and he had vowed not to commit any more of those. They only brought hurt. He was tired of hurting, and of being hurt.

Oh, he was so tired.

Lifting a heavy hand to rub his forehead, Angel stopped midway suddenly, darting his head up, his senses alerting him to another presence in the room. He knew even before he swung around who it was.

And she knew he knew.

"Buffy", he whispered in amazed disbelief, standing to face her.
How long had it been since he had allowed himself to taste that word? Its flavor tingled through him like a kiss. He felt as though he were floating in a dream; everything seemed surreal to his senses.

"Hello Angel", she returned in a low voice, stepping out of the shadows towards him into a dim beam of light filtered through the windows. Like a vision, or a ghost… or a dream. Was this a dream?

Her face was hardened and cold, and yet - there was a sorrow in her eyes that could not escape his notice. A sorrow that he had not seen present before.

He knew it was his turn to speak, but he was at a complete loss for words. Yes, this had to be a dream - perhaps he had fallen asleep during his musings?… But no, he was very much awake - and so was she. And she was right in front of him. How many times had he dreamt of seeing her again - longed and wished and prayed? And now… It was too much happiness for him to bear. And too, too much pain.

"I was in the neighborhood, so I figured, hey, why not drop by and see how my old pal Angel is doing".
There was a bitterness in her emotionless voice that cut into Angel's heart. Did she hate him now? The thought raked Angel's mind with fear. Her hate was the only thing in the world he could not bear.

"I'm glad you did", he said softly, trying to melt her ice.

At this, she let out a short, humorless laugh.
"I'm sure you are," she said sarcastically. "Look," she stated sharply, becoming matter-of-fact now. "I just came to ask you one thing, and then I'm gone so you don't have to worry, I haven't turned stalker-gal or anything."

Angel opened his mouth to protest against her mistaken assumption, but she swiftly held up her hand to silence him.

"Just one question," she reiterated. "Why did you destroy the Ring of Amara?"

Angel was slightly surprised by her question. He had expected her to ask something more… personal.

"It's just…" she continued, begrudgingly softening to give an explanation under the discomfort of his silence. "I sent it to you especially, y'know? I mean… all those talks we had, how you said you'd give anything to see the sun again - well you had it, right in the palm of your hand. Dream come true. So what's the what here?"

Angel cast his memory back to the nights by the fireplace, gazing at orange flames that would lick the crackling wood, talking with Buffy as she lay warmly entangled in his arms. The flicker in her eyes revealed to him that she remembered too.

And it suddenly occurred to him how important it was for her to have his answer. It had not been the Slayer passing on an asset, a tool, to a valuable ally. It had been his Love, offering him the reality of a dream. And for her to be here now... He knew how hard the emotions were for her, and he understood the sacrifice she was making by visiting him tonight. It was an abandoning to the past - their past - and all the turmoiled emotions that came shackled to that.

"Buffy", he began tenderly. "I really appreciate you sending it to me. You gave me sunlight. I can't even express how much that means to me…. But it was too dangerous. I had to. I'm sorry." He couldn't believe how lame he sounded.

"Dangerous?"

"Yeah," he explained, stepping further towards her to close their distance. At this length, he could reach out and slide his fingers through the silk of her hair… "It wouldn't be safe - for me, for anyone around me. Spike would've made another attempt to regain the ring - or other vampires… who knows what could have happened."

She absorbed his words seriously for a moment, probing deeply into his dark eyes. Searching.

"But that's not the only reason, is it?" she said at last.

His eyes met hers squarely. How did she have that ability to connect into his heart?
"No," he replied slowly. "It's not."

"Mind telling me the rest? Cuz I'd really like get my bus fare's worth."

He looked into her, his eyes holding her gaze in that steady, gentle way that she had missed so dearly, that way she had tried so desperately to forget.

"It was too - easy," he released finally. "I can't just 'find' my forgiveness…. I need to earn it." And there all at once, was the answer he had been searching for ever since he had smashed that rock against the Ring. Had she known of his own inner struggle, or was this another one of his dreams leading him to self-knowledge?

There was a long silence as the empty room soaked in his words.

Buffy's eyes seemed fired with sparks, and her face turned flushed and rigid.
"Forgiveness, huh? Is that what I was all those years? Your ticket to redemption? Help the Slayer, get a free pass to Heaven. And now that you're all done with me and ready to go it solo, you'll be the oh-so bigger person and do the curtain-dropping, right?!!"

She was pacing wildly about the room now, her face on fire, eyes flashing with fury.

While Angel was utterly confused.

"Buffy, what are you talking about?"

Buffy stopped her pacing and stood still in silence, collecting her thoughts and quickly realizing the horror of her outburst.
"Oh God, I'm sorry", she flustered, embarrassed. "I didn't mean to babble like that…. Look - thanks for the answers - I just needed to have closure on that…. I better go now." And with that, she spun around and made a hasty exit towards the door.

Just as swiftly, Angel rushed towards her, clasping her arm firmly in his hand and spinning her back around to face him.

"No. You have something on your mind. Please. Tell me what's bothering you," he entreated.

Regaining her control, Buffy wriggled angrily out of his grip, shot a harsh "It's none of your business, Angel," and made for the door again, avoiding any contact with his piercing eyes. Just as she was about to turn the knob, he stopped her dead in her tracks with:

"Is it about him?"

Her mind roared like a wild fire. He couldn't possibly know about Parker - could he? She turned around slowly to look at him again, her back pressed up against the door. Waiting.

"Spike told me that some guy… treated you - badly." She would never know how painful it was for Angel to say those words.
She was numb.
"Buffy", Angel started, moving close to her. "I've known plenty of guys like him in my time - I myself was far worse. They're not worth the worry, believe me."

She turned her face away abruptly so that she was side-on to him, but he could still see the tears brimming in her eyes. Angel slid his hand up to cup her cheek and brought it gently back around to look into his eyes.
"Hey - you are amazing, Buffy. Never, ever think anything less."

At this, the tears began slipping down her cheeks, unable to be contained any longer. Her lips trembled with emotion and her small frame was shaking visibly. "Oh no you don't!" she cried angrily, roughly pushing his hand away from her face, and stepping away to resume their former distance.

"It's not so easy this time, buster", she cried, her eyes flashing, her voice fiery. "You talk about forgiveness. What about forgiveness from me, huh Angel? God! You act as if nothing even happened that night. We shared something - we were connected together somehow… I know you felt it too. When you - drank from me - God, we were even closer than the night we made… And then what did you do? You left. Walked right out on me without a word. That's twice now, Angel. And now you're not even the only one. That kinda thing doesn't do much for the ego, y'know?!…."

Angel stood before her utterly helpless in his guilt. His voice quivered as he said softly, his eyes touching the floor, "I know. I'm sorry Buffy. I'm so sorry."

But she wasn't about to let him off at that. " 'I'm sorry'?! Christ Angel! For the past few months I've felt like there was something missing in me, something dead. And now that I'm with you, it's like I'm complete - like some sort of power has surged me back into life. It feels like a part of me is inside you now. Can't you feel it too?"

Angel lifted his gaze from the comfort of the floor and met her glistening eyes.

"Of course I do. You feel an emptiness, but think how much worse it is for me. I have you running through my blood. You are always with me. And the thing that I have to deal with every moment is the fact that I will never be able to be with you."

His voice choked, and it was he now who turned his head to a side to hide the tears. Buffy's anger faded as she absorbed his words.

She was silent for a long time.

Slowly, very slowly, her face softened.
She lifted her hands to cup his face and looked straight into his eyes.
And he knew that at long last, she understood .

"Thank you Angel," she whispered. "Thank you for loving me so much to let me go."
Sliding her hands around his neck tightly, she stepped into his circling arms. She wept softly against his shoulder, and he let his tears flow as he leaned against the softness of her hair. All of that sealed emotion finally being granted a gasp of breath.
And for a time, each found solace in their shared sorrow.

After a long while, Angel eventually broke the silence. "Now I have a question," he whispered against her ear. "Why did you come here tonight?"

Her hand still entwined about his neck, Buffy leaned back to look him in the eyes. Slowly she replied, "I guess...to forgive you…. For my closure."

In his eyes, she noticed a flicker of light flash, and then disappear at her words.

"Closure," he repeated, as though speaking through a gluey fog, his mind numb to the sound in his ears.

Gradually, they pulled apart, eyes bound together throughout. With one last caress of his cheek, Buffy broke their gaze and turned around slowly. And then she walked away, closing the door behind her.

For a few minutes, Angel could only breathe that fog of numbness. All he could think of was her touch; her nearness, and the way his blood ingnited when she was with him. But slowly the finality of what had passed dawned on him like sunlight. Closure. He felt himself about to sink back into his chair in misery. How could she appear before him from that realm of longing, stir breath once again into his deadened heart, only to then dissolve into memory, out of his reach forever? Closure meant the end of any lingering hope; the hope that had become the core of his existence. How could he possibly survive without it?

And then he knew: there was always Hope.

"No Buffy," he whispered into the darkness, gathering his thoughts. "I can't just take your forgiveness… I have to earn it."

And a faint light started glowing in his eyes again. He was awake at last.