One Perfect Moment

The music slowed until it was lilting, romantic and soft.  Buffy met Angel's 
eyes and the drifted together, unable to be in the same room and not be 
touching.  Tears filled her eyes and she tried desperately to keep them at 
bay by speaking.

"I never thought you'd come," she confessed.

His eyes were soft.  "It's a big night.  I didn't want to miss it."  He 
paused for a second and then went on.  "It's just tonight, it doesn't mean 
that I--"

She finished for him, like she had done so many times in the past, knowing 
what he felt as well as-- and sometimes better-- than knowing what she felt.  
"I know."  She gave him a slight smile.  "I mean, I understand."

He extended his hand.  "Dance with me?"

Buffy looked at his hand, the hand so able to give pleasure and conflict pain 
and took it gently in her own.  She felt his fingers wrap around hers as she 
laid her head against his shoulder and sighed a little.  He took their 
entwined hands up and laid clasped them to his chest, over his heart.  Angel 
rested his chin on the top of her head.

She pulled back and looked at him, simply for the sake of looking.  Buffy 
absorbed his face in her memory, a face and time and place for her to always 
treasure and love.  A face that she would never be able to forget.  They 
stared into each other's eyes, sadness mirroring each other's features.

Buffy reached up and traced the line of his brow with her fingertips.  They 
trailed softly over his skin and he shuddered in remembered tenderness.  

"Buffy, I..."  His voice was hoarse and she shook her head, effectively 
shushing him.  

"I know you love me," she murmured softly.  "I love you too, Angel."

His trembling subsided and he looked at her evenly.  "Would you like me to 
walk you home?"

A slow nod was his response.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They talked quietly on the way, sometimes seriously, sometimes being silly.  
The  companionable talk of those who know each other too well and love each 
other too much.  Their hands remained laced together tightly and Angel 
wondered idly exactly how much he was going to miss her hand in his.  

"Infinitely," he whispered.  

She looked up at him with a tentative smile on her face.  "Infinitely what?"

His eyes turned sad and he broke her gaze to prolong the talk they were 
trying not to have.  "Nothing, Buffy.  Don't worry about it."

The wind whistled through the treetops and she turned to him.  "Infinitely 
what, Angel?"  Her voice was serious and he met her eyes.  

"How much I'm going to miss you."

Her mouth formed a little 'o' of surprise, though she had been expecting it.  
"I knew.  Well, I thought I knew.  I know *you*," she murmured with emphasis. 
 "So I like to think I know what you're thinking before you admit to 
anything."  

He laughed quietly.  "You make it sound as though I'm doing something secret."

"Well, it kind of is, isn't it?  I mean, our thoughts.  I like to *think* I 
know what you want before you say anything, but before I didn't have to 
guess, you would have told me.  Before, I didn't have to worry because you 
were there to protect me and love me and be honest with me about everything." 
 She kept her tone even, willing her tears not to fall.

They did anyway.

"Buffy..."  Angel stopped, unsure of how to word what he was going to say.  
"I love you.  I sometimes feel like I always have.  And what you said about 
my heart not beating...."

"Angel, that was really harsh of me--"  He held up his hand and cut her off.

"Maybe.  But I don't blame you.  Partly because I feel I deserve it, but also 
because you're wrong."

She wrinkled her brow and he wanted to kiss her forehead, kiss the soft skin 
on her face another time, kiss her until she was breathless for air and his 
lips were burning with stolen warmth.  He couldn't, though, and settled for 
sighing instead.  "What I mean is, it doesn't beat, not all the time.  But 
Buffy, sometimes when I'm around you, I could swear that it suddenly *does.*  
I don't know why, or even if I'm imagining it, but you make me want to be 
human again *so much* that when you leave and I have time to think, I hate 
myself that I'm not what you need."

Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.  "You *are* what I need, Angel."  

His lips curved into a smile.  "You don't know how much I love hearing you 
say things like that to me, but we both know it's not true.  I don't know how 
something that fits so perfectly can be against so many laws of nature."

They reached her house and he brought her up to the door.  "You look really 
handsome tonight," she told him formally.

He wanted to thaw the chill in her voice.  He took her hand and dipped his 
head, kissing her lightly on the back of her wrist.  She trembled and when he 
looked back up, all he saw was warmth.  He took her tightly in his arms.

"I love you, Buffy," he murmured into her hair.  "Never forget that I love 
you."

"How could I?" she asked innocently.  "How could I forget when I love you 
just as much?"  

He pulled away to meet her eyes and found the spark that he loved waiting for 
him when he looked into them.  He lowered his head, catching her mouth in a 
kiss for which the word bittersweet was created.  She sighed against him, 
snuggling closer, tasting his lips with hers, sliding her hand through his 
hair.  He responded in kind, holding her head in his palm as the kiss went on 
and on, cherishing her heartbeat as though it was the sweetest kind of music.

Which, to him, it was.

At length he let go of her and she let her seeking arms drop from his 
shoulders as he stepped away.  He met her eyes again for a long, painful, 
tender moment and then turned into the night at walked away.  

"Goodbye, Angel," she whispered into the darkness.  

Her one perfect moment had passed.

The End

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