Say Good Night

by Persephone

Buffy Summers paused midstride as the uncomfortable feeling of eyes boring in the back of her head rippled down her spine. She tensed, one hand ready to thrust into her backpack and remove her weapon of choice--an extremely sharp, twisting stake. One that had belonged to a friend, another Slayer who had given it to her for her own protection. Which was a laugh since it had turned out she had never been in any danger to begin with. Her friends had been though. Because of her bruised pride and arrogance, she had left them alone, defenseless--ripe pickings for Drusilla and her henchmen. Because of her rashness, the other Slayer had died and this stake was the legacy she left. Partially in memory of her and because it made her feel stronger somehow, Buffy carried Mr. Pointy with her at all times.

And this was one of those times she was grateful she did. Her Slayer sense were going awry, practically screaming a supernatural presence nearby. More specifically, a vampiric one.

"Great," she muttered, "Can't I have one night off?"

She knew the answer to that but still she rebelled against her fate by asking the question.

"All right," She pivoted around, making her voice crisp, with a no nonsense tone that even Giles would have been impressed with, "I am really not in the mood for this right now. Show yourself or don't waste my time."

>From the shadows of a nearby tree, a tall shadow detached itself. She recognized who it was by the infinitely graceful gait, the body language, before she even saw his face. Adrenaline slowed and a new sort of tension crept into her bones as he stepped under the full glare of the street lamp.

The moonlight made him glow, like a living statue. Every feature perfect and white, sculpted and preserved forever. Unfair that; he would be forever young, forever gorgeous while she would grow older and older, sagging in places, gaining both weight and wrinkles. Providing she lived that long.

Maybe James Dean had a point, Buffy mused.

Then again she really didn't want to be the one to prove him right.

"Angel," she tried to sound cool, sophisticated and failed miserably. Sure, she chastised herself, remind him of just how young you really are.

"Buffy," he nodded at her. His dark eyes glittered in the moonlight, absorbing it in their dark depths. Eyes that were so easy to lose oneself in as she knew from experience. "You're out late."

"Had a history test to study for," She made a face. Correction-- Willow had tried to help her study. The reality was she had only half-listened, her mind totally preoccupied with other matters.

Like Angel. Like their strained, angst-ridden relationship. About how much she wanted things to be as they were. Before Angel had become Angelus again, before he had killed Ms. Calendar, before she had sent him to Hell with the thrust of a sword.

But things would never be as they had been. Innocence had been shattered, relationships sorely tested and reshaped. What had been was over and there was only now.

The trouble was she and Angel weren't exactly moving in the now. More like caught in some timewarp in between. Not able to move forward or back. And she so desperately wanted to move forward. Buffy wanted all they had been through to mean something, to bind them closer together.

Instead, it seemed only to be driving them apart.

For his part, Angel seemed to be going out of his way to avoid her. Not just her actually but all of the Slayerettes. Especially Giles. The few encounters with the Watcher had been tension fraught and uncomfortable to say the least. Jenny Calendar's ghost hovered over those meetings and instead of hating Angel as she might have done in his case, Giles tried to forgive him. Because Jenny would have wanted that, he claimed somberly. It didn't mean everything was wonderful--far from it. The effort, however, gave her a new respect for the Watcher, for his strength and his courage.

Buffy wished she had those qualities. As it was, she was afraid-- afraid that Angel would never forgive her for her part in the shattering of his soul. That he would never forgive himself. That she would never be able to forgive him for his deeds as Angelus. And most importantly, that he no longer was in love with her. She was so afraid of the answer to that simple question that she hadn't pursued forcing the issue, so to speak, with him and trying to hammer out just what exactly their relationship was.

God, why can't anything be easy for once, she exhaled silently, why all the drama? Why couldn't things be black and white, simple and definite. Why were there always too many questions and never any good answers? Did she really have to constant work and rework at trying to define her world?

Buffy already knew the answer to that, could hear Giles' voice saying, 'I believe that's called growing up.'

Well, like she had said before, she still wanted it to stop.

"So why are you out?" She shifted casually to one foot, tilting her head back a bit to regard him.

Angel glanced away as if meeting her direct gaze was the hardest thing in the world. "I needed to think about some things."

"Such as?"

Now he turned those dark, twin moons of his own her causing her knees to feel weak and muscles all rubbery, "You. Me. Us?"

Her pulse quickened as an eerie sense of deja vu settled in her bones. Hadn't she just been thinking the same thing? Was this some kind of sign? And if it was, what was it going to mean?

Whoa, Summers, she caught herself, let Angel talk before you analyze life, the universe, and everything to death. Then she frowned--wasn't that a title of a book or something?

Meanwhile, Angel had taken to fidgeting with his hands, something that he made look exceedingly adorable and elegant just by doing it. His serious expression, bordering on grim, made her heart constrict painfully. Whatever he had to say was not going to be good.

She so did not need this tonight.

Somehow, Buffy managed to find her voice, "And?"

His eyes darted back and forth as if he was unsure of whether he should meet her head on. Then he sighed and straightened, "I think it might be good if I left town for a while."

Left? her heart shrieked as she stood staring dumbly at him. Buffy found she couldn't imagine her life in without him involved in it in some way. In just three years, he had become more than her friend, her lover--he was a part of her and losing him would be like losing a limb.

"I need time away from Sunnydale, from all the ghosts that haunt me here," Angel continued slowly, as if he couldn't believe he were actually saying this. "There are some things I have to work out."

"And you can't do that here?" Buffy was horrified to hear the edge of tears in her voice.

He stared at her, those dark eyes opaque and haunted. More haunted now than they had ever been in the three years she had known him. There was guilt there, remorse and regret. And sorrow, a sorrow that she felt so keenly, felt it as though it were her own. Anguish that made her want to forget everything that had happened between them and take him in her arms. But she held her ground, knowing that he might well turn and flee if she took such an action.

"You're one of those things I have figure out, Buffy. Where we may be headed, or not headed. And if I stay here... if I stay here, I can't think with my head. My heart won't let me."

She grew warm at that, taking a step closer, "Angel, we can't always think with our heads in life. Sometimes we have to follow our hearts."

"Following our hearts is what caused this whole mess in the first place," he replied scathingly.

Buffy recoiled. His features softened, losing that chiseled marble expression. "I don't blame you for what happened, Buffy. I never will."

"But you blame yourself?"

He didn't reply which was as good as an answer in itself.

"Angel, it wasn't your fault," she let herself take a step forward, touching his forearm. "we didn't know--"

"That doesn't excuse it, Buffy. That doesn't make right the wrongs I did--to Jenny Calendar, to Giles, to the others, and most of all, to you."

"It wasn't you," she said forcefully, "It was Angelus. It was the demon."

"And Angelus is part of me. I *am* a demon, Buffy," he growled, "I only look like a man."

"Angelus is part of you, yes," she conceded reluctantly, "But he's not all of you. Not the best part of you. And as for what he did to me--"

"What I did," he corrected. "What I could still do to you without meaning it."

"No, Angel, what he did. I'm not going to let you take this guilt on yourself. Not alone. It was my fault that you ended up that way. If I hadn't--," her voice broke, "if I hadn't pushed you, we never would have slept together and the Romani curse would have remained intact. And as for the other-- I know you, Angel. You could never hurt me, not willingly. Not the real you."

"Buffy--" he started to reach for her then apparently caught himself, "This is another reason, I have to leave. The endless recriminations. Should have, could have, would have--in the end it doesn't change anything. All we do now is try to pretend nothing happened--well, it did."

"Then let's face it," Buffy leaped on that, "Face it and work through it. Together."

"No," it was amazing how much finality he put in that one word, "Buffy, this is already difficult... Please don't make it worse."

She swallowed, blinking back the tears pricking her eyes, "For how long? A month?" she asked hopefully then felt those hopes crash with one look at his pained expression, "Two months? Three? Are...are you even going to come back at all?"

"I don't know yet."

"What do you know?" she finally shouted, "Tell me that. What good is any of it--any of what we suffered if we can't even move past it? If we have to lose each other like this."

Blindly, she turned and ran. Ran as fast as her legs would carry her as far away from him as she could manage. The pounding of her boots against the pavement echoed in the quietude of the night. So concerned was she on escape that she didn't notice the tin can on the ground until she tripped over it, falling painfully to the ground.

Maybe he had been following her or maybe he was faster than he had ever let on but whatever the case, Angel was by her side in an instant. "Buffy!" his voice was fearful, "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

Yes, she wanted to rail, I am hurt. You're breaking my heart. Instead, she sniffled as he gingerly touched her.

"Buffy?" Why did that voice have to be so full of loving concern? Why did she have to be so in love with him? Why, why, why?

She raised her tousled blond head, "Angel... Could I ask you a question?"

Angel studied her then nodded.

"Are you--do you," the tears were coming now and there was no way she could stop them, "Are you still in love with me?"

"Oh, Buffy," his voice was sad, "I'll love you 'til the day I die. And beyond."

She broke down completely then. Wordlessly, he took her in his arms and held her as she wept a storm upon his shoulder. She felt safe in his arms, safer than she had ever felt in her life. It felt right. This is where I belong, a voice in her head whispered.

Even if she had to let that safe haven go for a little while.

Raising her head, she stared up into his fathomless eyes, read the need and hunger there. Buffy leaned forward, closing her eyes as she touched his cold, soft lips to hers. He resisted at first then gave in, tasting her with an intensity that excited her, his arms drawing her closer and closer. For a moment, an eternity, they sat thus, then each slowly pulled back.

"Buffy, I can't--"

She placed a finger on his lips, "Shh. I know."

They sat together, her head resting against his chest. "Angel?"

"Yes?"

"I love you," she said simply, "Even if you go, I'll still be here, loving you, waiting for you to return."

She felt something splash against her neck. Lifting her eyes, she saw tears running down his face. Tenderly, she pulled him to her and let him cry out his own river of pain, knowing that it was a step in the healing process. Just as leaving for a while was another for him. She had to let him do this, she had to let him find peace, or there would never be a chance for them.

Buffy was patient. She could and would wait.

Forever, if need be.

-- End --