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Buffy’s heart unfurled, a battered vein reaching out to touch the armored space inside his chest. “What were you so scared of?”
The disgraced vampire startled, as if feeling the ephemeral contact. His gaze found their physical bodies and for the first time noticed their positions. Buffy’s corpse lay turned toward his, her arms out straight as if reaching for him in a last act of humanity.
But what finally decimated Angelus’ foibles wasn’t the way he lived his life, but the way he ended it. Despite the denials, despite the fear, his death rattle proved it all—he lay sprawled in a mirror image of Buffy.
Turning to her, Angelus dared to do in death what he desperately wanted to at the end of life. He reached out and touched her perfect cheek. “Love.”
********
She leaned into his touch. “Love feels good, Angelus. It makes life worth living. Even for vampires. You shouldn’t be scared of it.”
“Did loving me treat you well?”
While not caustic, his question cut through her sudden fog of wellbeing. Buffy thought back on their entire journey. Sadness made their mark on her face. “No, it hasn’t. Loving you has been dirty, disgusting, and vile.”
“I see.” Angelus couldn’t blame her for the given answer. However, agreeing to it did little to take the sting away.
“But as much as I hated how bad you made me feel, I loved you more. So it ended up being worth it.” Buffy’s eyes dimmed. “That is until—”
“AND,” he cut in rudely, “as much as I’ve hated how much you make me feel, I loved it more.”
Buffy turned her face away, breaking from Angelus’ touch. “Maybe because of the bond. Nothing more.”
Tragic laughter lurked in his voice. “I never needed a bond to feel you, Buffy. All I needed was to see you. To be with you. To think of you.” He tucked her small hand in his and brought it up to his chest. “You’ve been in here. You’ve been in here long before you ever knew I existed.”
“What exactly are you saying to me, Angelus?” Buffy’s stomach dropped and she heard a loud roar rushing in her ears. It was the sound of blood pumping furiously through sheer nervousness. That’s not right. I shouldn’t be hearing that anymore. Anyway, I think I shouldn’t.
His lids dropped down, shading his gaze, but Angelus’ soft voice revealed all. “I’m saying that if I could have another chance at life, with you, I’d show you how much you mean to me, in here.”
Buffy reeled from the intense emotions hammering away at her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on, I…I don’t…I can’t get what you’re saying.”
“You know what I’m saying.”
Angelus’ sincerity rocked her. Blinking, gawking, and disbelieving she managed to croak out, “Are you…are you saying you love me?”
A grim smile tightened his mouth. “I’ve never said those words to anyone in this incarnation—as Angelus. But if there was anyone I’d ever say it to, it would be you.”
Buffy stabbed him with her recriminatory stare. “If that’s true, why didn’t you say it when Acrymydion asked you?”
“You really did hear us,” he murmured sadly, more than a bit ashamed.
“Yeah, I did.”
Crisp sadness carved small lines into his face. “Well, like I said—I’d only say it to you.”
Buffy suddenly gasped in pain. Angelus’ arms came around her. “What’s wrong? Baby, tell me.”
“Everything I ever went through, everything I suffered, it was all for this.” She hissed in terrible agony. “All I ever wanted was your love, Angelus. I lived for it. I breathed for it. I turned myself inside out for you. I did it because I needed your love so badly.” Choking sobs clawed up her throat. “And now! Now when it doesn’t matter, now when it’s too late, now you give me what I always wanted!”
Angelus held Buffy tightly, terrified to say the wrong thing but desperate to ease her pain anyway he could. “I’m sorry.”
“You know what’s sick about this whole ridiculous, stupid drama? What’s sick is that it even matters to me!” Her sobs mutated into ugly laughter. “I mean c’mon! Look at us! Here we are—dead—and even now we can’t die in peace. Even now we’re still just as twisted as we were alive. How much sense does that make? Whether you hate me, love me or whatever—it shouldn’t matter!”
“But it does matter.”
“Why?!”
“Because it does.” The lame, weakly spoken reason didn’t sit well with him. His brow furrowed once before becoming smooth again. Resting his cheek against her blonde crown, Angelus stated, “It matters because we belong together.”
Buffy let out a shaky sigh. All the earthly emotions of pain and sorrow seemed to seep away.
“You really believe that?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
Flat laughter came into being. “We are pair, Angelus. We are a sad, little pair.”
Angelus couldn’t let their last moments end like this. Now that he had all but admitted what he felt for her, he couldn’t let it go. “Forgive me.”
“I don’t know if I can forgive you. Even dead, I don’t know.”
He swallowed back his denials. Strangely enough he wished his demon could make an appearance. If anything just to make him have the arrogance to demand something else from Buffy. “I understand.”
“But I’d want to.”
“Buffy…do you mean that?” His hands squeezed her flesh once before releasing her arms completely.
A touch of her old mischief sparked to life. “I said it didn’t I?”
“How?” Angelus screwed his eyes shut. Guilt uncoiled within his breast. He had all but admitted how he felt, but he had yet to say the words. Why can’t I say it? Even though I swore I never would, does it really matter? “After what you saw tonight, with Dru, and knowing what I’ve done…how?”
“Maybe because I’m stupid. Most likely it’s because I’m stupid. I really can’t say right now, Angelus.”
He could feel his core bending, ready to snap into a million pieces. It was painful, gutting, terrifying, and he hated it. Tell her. Tell her! He couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. The peace inside began to burn away. “I don’t understand your answer,” he snapped. “Are you being serious, sarcastic, what?”
“I said I’d want to,” she sighed. Angelus’ reversal of mood didn’t surprise her. She was used to it. So used to it that it didn’t seem odd for him to carry the same characteristics in the afterlife. “I didn’t say that I did. Those are two different things, Angelus. You can’t confuse them.”
Chastened, he backed away and replied, “I know. I’m sorry.” He apologized for more than presumptuousness. What’s wrong with me? Why am I slipping? Why am I feeling torn again? Why am I on the verge of yelling at her? What is WRONG with me?! Angelus didn’t want to feel anger. He didn’t want to feel the ugliness of his existence. He craved peace. He needed to be clean, pure. He didn’t want to be dirty again.
“It hurts, you know?” Buffy murmured. Suddenly, she smiled. “It hurts but not as much anymore. Strange, huh? I guess it’s one of the benefits of being dead.”
But are we really dead? The thought slid into his mind like a tiny thorn. His dark gaze slipped to the scene beneath. What was the point of making him go through Buffy’s death? How was that a punishment? He wanted to be with her—alive or dead.
“What do you think? Is it just me being loopy or what?”
Before Angelus could answer, someone else did instead.
“But you’re not dead, Buffy. Not entirely anyway.”
Both lovers whirled about to find the source.
“Life does not just begin with the first breath out of the womb. Death does not just end with the body. They are separate and yet entwined. Do you remember those words, Buffy?”