FOLLOW YOUR HEART
Part Four
by Debbie Nockels
(April 2000)
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Mary bustled around, making sure Angel was settled comfortably in the bed, on his side so there would be no pressure on his back, with two fluffy pillows, and a warm, soft blanket over him. Catherine entered, carrying a plastic pitcher and cups that Buffy recognized as being standard hospital issue. �"Here's some fresh water and a couple of glasses, in case you get thirsty. Buffy, would you like us to bring in a cot for you? I'm sure you're exhausted too." Her voice was lowered, suitable for the sickroom atmosphere.
Buffy shook her head. �"Please don't bother. I'll just sit in this chair, if that's all right."
"Of course. Father would like to see you after you get Angel settled in, if you don't mind."
"Sure." Buffy glanced at Angel. He was already asleep, his normal pallor accentuated by shock, his chest unmoving. After so many months apart, this gave her a slight jolt. She'd forgotten how - well, dead - he looked when sleeping. Catherine looked also.
"I thought vampires only slept during the day," she whispered.
Buffy had to chuckle. She gestured toward the doorway, and the two women started walking. �"Vampires sleep whenever they're tired enough, just like humans. That's usually during the day, since they can't go outside then. But if the day is overcast, or they're sheltered from direct sunlight, they're just as alert as anyone."
"Oh." They entered Father's chamber. Narcissa was still there, seated at the large table, along with Catherine, Vincent and, of course, Father. Father smiled at Buffy. �"Thank you for coming back, my dear. I promise I won't keep you long; I know how tired you must be. Please, have a seat."
Everyone found chairs. Vincent spoke. "We have been discussing how to make sure that Paracelsus can't summon anyone else from your world, and we think we have a solution. Narcissa believes that she can prevent Fleur from working another magick like this one."
Buffy turned to the old woman. �"You can do that?"
Narcissa nodded, chuckling. �"Yes, indeed, child. Dat Fleur is not so powerful as she thinks; my sisters and I will put a binding on her so she cannot trouble your world again."
"But that won't stop Paracelsus from finding someone else to do it," Buffy pointed out.
"No," Father agreed. �"But it takes a powerful sorcerer to work this magick. I don't know how it is in your world, but they don't exactly grow on trees here. Finding a replacement for Fleur will be very difficult. Besides, since this little venture backfired so dramatically on him, I believe John will think twice about attempting it again."
Then he gave a rueful smile. �"At least, that's what we hope. There are, of course, no guarantees."
"Life never gives guarantees," said Narcissa. She reached up to her neck and pulled over her head a long leather cord, at the end of which dangled a small leather pouch, very worn. She handed this to Buffy. �"Here, child, take dis. If ever you need help from dis old woman, hold de amulet bag in your hands and call my name three times. Help will arrive."
"Er, thank you, Narcissa." Buffy tried not to show her skepticism as she slung the cord around her neck. The pouch was heavier than it looked. She decided she didn't want to ask what was in it.
Unexpectedly, Narcissa placed her hand on Buffy's chest, over her heart. Buffy jumped, startled at the intimacy of the gesture. Once again the blind eyes peered into her soul. �"Remember, child, however lonesome de road ahead, you will be together in de end. Dis I swear on de bones of my ancestors."
Tears sprang to Buffy's eyes. She swallowed, whispering, "Thank you. I'll remember."
Narcissa smiled up at her, then turned. �"Now dis old woman must go."
"Yes, it's very late," said Father. �"We all need our rest. Narcissa, you will wait until morning to leave, won't you? We have a spare chamber - "
A long, deep sigh came from the elderly woman's lips. �"Thank you, Father. Yes, de way home is too far for me to walk tonight."
Vincent came up to her, offering his arm. �"Let me escort you."
Catherine said to Buffy, "You'll spend the night, won't you? You must need the rest as much as Angel does."
Buffy hesitated. �"I don't know if it's safe for us to stay that long. We better not take the chance. Angel will be much better after a couple of hours, so if someone could wake us then - Or if you have an alarm clock we could set - " �
From the doorway Vincent looked over his shoulder. �"I'll come wake you." Then he and Narcissa left.
Father came up to Buffy and took her hand. �"My dear, if I don't see you before you leave, please know that meeting you and Angel has been a very great pleasure indeed. I've never chatted with fictional characters before." His gray eyes twinkled.
"It's been weird," Buffy agreed, smiling. �"But I'm grateful it happened, because I wouldn't have gotten to know all of you without it." Impulsively she leaned forward and kissed Father's weathered cheek. �"Goodnight, Father."
"Goodnight. Get some rest." Father gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then released it. Buffy gathered up her bag, and she and Catherine went back to the guest chamber, where Angel still slept the sleep of utter exhaustion. Catherine wished her a goodnight and left, after giving her directions on using the antiquated toilet facilities.
Buffy used them, then came back to the bed and stood looking down at Angel. Fatigue was making itself felt; she yawned. She glanced over at the chair then back at the bed. Angel was still lying on his side, so a good half of the bed was available for use. Another jaw-cracking yawn decided the matter. Buffy toed off her shoes, slipped under the blanket and stretched out behind Angel. Sleepily she noticed that the exit wounds had also begun closing.
Better not cuddle too close, she decided. Keeping a cautious inch or two away from his back, she settled the extra pillow more comfortably beneath her head and draped her forearm across Angel's waist. Her eyelids drooped. Her last conscious thought was how comforting it was to be with him, like this, again.
They stood in an enormous cavern. Before them a magnificent waterfall surged down a rocky cliff before splashing into the underground lake that filled most of the bottom of the cave. The spray drifted mistily over the water; rainbows swam in and out of the shaft of sunlight streaming in from some source high above.
"It's beautiful," she whispered, awestruck. She leaned back against Angel, felt his arms come around her.
"I've never seen anything like it," Angel agreed. The breath from his words whispered over her hair, both tickling and caressing. His lips touched the top of her head and moved downward. She closed her eyes and focused on the sensation, her head dropping lower and lower. The lips reached the base of her skull and paused. Angel's arms released her, but before she could react she felt his hands parting her hair and then the touch of his kiss on the nape of her neck as his arms once more pulled her close against him.
She gave a little shiver; the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck lifted. His lips and tongue caressed the tender skin. She made a sound half-whimper, half-moan, feeling his touch through her entire body. Even her toes were tingling. A tear rolled down her cheek and she lifted her head, turning her face to him. "I've missed you."
"Me too; I miss you so much," Angel murmured. His lips slid across her cheek to her mouth, cutting off her reply. She tilted her head against his shoulder and gave herself up to the kiss. It had been so long, months, since she'd known the coolness of his lips and tongue on hers; months that she'd hungered for his touch. But as much as she was liking it, this position was too confining. Still kissing, she turned around and lifted her hands to his shoulders.
That was better. She slid her arms around his neck, rose up on her toes, and pressed closer. That was better still; now they touched along their entire lengths. She strained against him; his arms tightened until she panted for breath; his hands caressed her back, her buttocks, cupping them to grind their pelvises together. Their kisses grew feverish. Angel lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his hips. The bulge of his growing erection sent a jolt through her; she almost lost her hold on him.
She whimpered deep in her throat. Angel stumbled to his knees, still holding her, still kissing her, then he lowered her to the ground. She fumbled with the fastening of her pants, almost crying with frustration as the zipper stuck. Yanking hard, she forced it down, but it was Angel who jerked the pants down her legs and over her feet . . . Angel who all but tore his own trousers off in his haste. His erection spilled into her hand. She ran the silken softness through her palms, squeezing, stroking the rapidly-hardening shaft. Her fingers grazed the heavy sacs below, and Angel groaned. She stroked them again; his thick flesh jerked in her hand and grew perceptibly stiffer.
"Buffy!" Angel gasped. �"Yes!" she panted. �"Now, Angel. Now!" He entered her with one long, hard thrust - and time seemed to stop. Their eyes met, green and brown, and suddenly the urgency that had been driving them vanished. They were together, as they should have been, as they were meant to be, as they would always be no matter how far the physical distance between them, no matter what obstacles life threw in their path.
"I love you," they whispered in unison. Angel kissed her and slowly withdrew from her body, then just as slowly reentered. Their lovemaking was leisurely, each thrust, each kiss, each caress resonant with emotion, creating a memory that would last for years - and might need to. Angel whispered her name and his love against her neck, her lips, her breasts. His skin grew briefly warm where her hands and lips roamed and caressed. Slowly the fire reignited. Their pace increased.
Angel rose to his knees and pulled her legs over his shoulders, then leaned forward, once again resting his weight on his hands. Spreading his knees for better leverage he thrust forward, pounding against her pelvis, and she shuddered and cried out. This new position allowed him to penetrate even more deeply than before. She gasped at each new thrust, writhing beneath him as the heat within her grew to an inferno. He held her face between his palms; she heard her name but couldn't reply.
"Buffy, look at me." Angel's voice was harsh. She forced her eyes to focus on him. His face was contorted, teeth clenched, his gaze almost wild. �"I love you."
"I - " Her voice failed; the peak was almost upon her. Through the pleasure beginning to cloud her mind she tried again. �"I - love you. Always." Then it hit her and she was buffeted by waves of spiraling pleasure, her body tossing in the maelstrom. Crying out, she arched her back, heard Angel's answering groan, felt his convulsions as he thudded against her.
Then there was nothing but the roar of the water falling, and the labored sounds of her heart and lungs. She lowered her legs and Angel wrapped his arms around her and stretched out beside her, still connected to her body. Yawning, she stroked his thick hair, kissed his forehead; her eyelids drooped.
"Buffy? Angel?" Catherine stopped outside the chamber entrance, calling their names softly. There came no reply. She looked up at Vincent doubtfully. �"I hate to just barge in."
"Think of us as their wake-up call." Vincent's bright blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at his wife. They took a couple of steps into the chamber, stopped and called out again. Still no answer, so they entered the rest of the way.
On the narrow bed two figures slept together. Angel had rolled partially onto his back; Buffy was on her side with her head on his shoulder and her arm stretched across his chest. His arms enclosed her, and their legs were tangled beneath the blanket. Even as they looked, Buffy gave a small sigh in her sleep, and moved closer to Angel, whose arms tightened perceptibly around her.
Catherine bit her lip; her eyes grew wet. �"Why is life so cruel? They love each other so much . . . " There was no need to finish the sentence; Zach had explained the situation to Vincent too. He took the plate and pitcher she was carrying and set them on the table, then put his arm around her shoulders.
"Life is what it is, Catherine. And remember what Narcissa told them, that eventually they will be together, without fear. It happened for us; have faith that it will for them as well."
Catherine gave him a misty smile. �"I seem to remember telling you to have faith once, back when you feared our bond would never return."
"And see how right you were." They kissed. A sound from the bed made them look over. Angel's eyes were open, gazing at them. Catherine cleared her throat, a little embarrassed. �"Angel, it's been two hours. Buffy said we should wake you then, that you should leave." She indicated the table. �"When you're ready here's some food for you."
"I'm afraid your own shirt is beyond repair, but we brought you one of mine that we think will fit." Vincent placed the folded shirt over the back of the chair.
Angel nodded slightly in thanks, then his eyes dropped to Buffy's face as Vincent and Catherine turned and left them alone. �"Buffy, it's time to get up." His voice was soft; with his free hand he stroked her hair.
Buffy rose from the depths of slumber slowly and reluctantly, aware of a feeling of security and comfort - like coming home after a long absence. Her cheek was pillowed against something firm and cool; her legs intimately entwined with . . . other legs. She opened her eyelids to see familiar brown eyes looking down on her, and the memory of her dream rushed in. �"Hey."
"Hey," he smiled. Neither one made any effort to change position.
"How are you feeling?"
Angel moved his torso experimentally. �"Better. The pain isn't as bad as it was." He kissed the top of her head. �"We need to leave, Buffy."
"I don't want to," Buffy told him in a small voice. She tilted her head back. �"I just want to stay like this forever." No need to ask if he'd shared her dream; she knew he had. Her hand moved to his chest, stroking the cool skin.
"I know. Me too." Their lips were so close, so tempting. Angel bent his head and kissed her, softly, gently. �"I wish - "
He stopped, but she understood. He wished the same thing she did - that they could be together, truly together, just as they'd been in their dream.
"So do I." They gazed deep into each other's eyes, sharing their love and longing, then kissed again and very reluctantly disentangled themselves and got up. Buffy paid another visit to the facilities while Angel straightened the covers. When she returned Angel had just pulled on the shirt Vincent had left for him. It was made of some type of coarse-weave fabric, thick and very soft, a dull olive green in color, long-sleeved of course. The V-neck laced up the front.
Determined not to give way to the ache in her heart, Buffy grabbed a sandwich and surveyed him. �"It's strange to see you in something that isn't black or gray," she commented. �"Or at least dark," she amended, remembering a certain shirt she'd always loved that was such a dark shade of red it looked black in the moonlight. �"You look good."
She bit into the sandwich, realized with surprise that she was starving. Mmm, turkey - one of her favorites. It was real turkey too; not that pressed stuff that pretended to be meat.
"Thanks." Angel walked over to the table and poured out two glasses of lemonade, handing one to Buffy. She finished her sandwich and emptied the glass. �"It's real lemonade. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. The Tunnel folk don't go in much for substitutes. Are you ready?"
"Yes." Angel looked around the room. �"Where's your bag?" Buffy looked blank, then remembered she'd put it on the floor at the foot of the bed, and retrieved it. �"Let me," Angel said, taking it from her hand.
Vincent was waiting for them a little distance down the corridor. �"Are you sure you feel well enough for this, Angel? You know that you're welcome to stay longer."
Angel and Buffy both shook their heads. �"Thank you," said Angel, "but the longer we stay in this world the more the balance is disturbed. And I'm much better, as you can see."
Vincent's mouth dropped open in his version of a smile. �"I see, yes, but I'm having trouble making myself believe what my eyes tell me. It's incredible that anyone could recuperate that quickly - even a vampire."
"We heal fast," Angel repeated, then added wryly, "Luckily."
They started walking. Vincent said, "Catherine asked me to say goodbye for her. She dislikes farewells."
"I agree with her," said Buffy sadly. Angel took her hand, Vincent gave her a compassionate glance, and the rest of the walk was conducted in silence. When they reached their destination they stopped. The fog was still there, as thick and formidable as ever.
"Well," Buffy cleared her throat. �"It's been - " She paused, trying to decide on a word. �" - confusing," she finished honestly.
Vincent smiled again, his teeth glinting in the torchlight. �"Also interesting, disconcerting, and a great pleasure."
"And a lot of other adjectives," Buffy agreed. �"I really wish we could stay longer but - " Shrugging, she held out her hand. Vincent took it, held it for a moment before releasing it, then turned to Angel. The two men also clasped hands.
"Thank you for your hospitality - and for the shirt," Angel told Vincent. �"I'm sorry I won't be able to return it."
A shaggy hand made a graceful dismissive gesture. �"Please, accept it as our gift to you. Buffy, Mouse asked me to give you this." As he dug into his pants pocket Buffy asked apprehensively, "It's not one of his gizmos, I hope."
Blue eyes twinkled at her. �"He wanted to present you with an automated crossbow, but I persuaded him that, at twenty pounds, it would be too unwieldy for practical use. I suggested that he work on it further. No, his gift is this." He held out a small package of paper wound about with twine.
Buffy opened it. In the center of the paper wrappings she found a lump of crystal about the size of a golf ball, though irregularly shaped and with a flat space on the bottom. Unlike most crystals she'd ever seen, this one was clear and its spires and facets sparkled in the torchlight. She caught her breath. �"So the crystal cave really exists."
"It does indeed."
Angel leaned closer, admiring. �"It's beautiful." Buffy looked up. �"Please thank Mouse for me," she told Vincent. �"I'll treasure it." Then she frowned slightly. �"But we have nothing for you."
"What greater gift could you bestow than to defeat Paracelsus in one of his schemes?" Vincent reminded her. �"That can never be repaid."
Buffy chuckled. �"Okay, I guess we're even then." She re-wrapped the crystal and carefully stowed it in her bag, making sure it was in a protected spot where it couldn't be damaged by the other contents. She looked at Angel, then at Vincent. �"Well - it's time. Goodbye, Vincent."
"Goodbye, Buffy - Angel. Be well."
"You too," replied Angel. They nodded farewell, then Buffy took a deep breath, clasped Angel by the hand, and they stepped into the fog. Instantly she was blind. She felt Angel's hand holding hers, but all she could see was white, swirling mist. �"Angel?"
"I'm here." She heard movement, and then he was there, right next to her, their arms touching. �"Do you have any rope or twine in your bag? We better make sure we don't get separated."
"Good idea. Let me check." Holding firmly to his hand she swung the bag off her shoulder and set it on the ground, right on top of her foot. �"Okay, I'm going to squat down." Together they lowered themselves. Angel grasped one of her belt loops to let her have both hands free as she blindly quested the contents of her bag.
"Got some!" Buffy pulled out some twine, about two feet in length. Almost half that was taken up by the loops they knotted around their wrists, so only about thirteen inches separated them by the time they resumed walking - or rather, inching their way forward, Angel being at least as cautious as Buffy was in not trusting their surroundings.
As usually happens, the journey back seemed to take twice as long as the original trip had. Normally this would have had Buffy seething with impatience, but she quickly discovered she didn't mind at all. �Probably because I know that as soon as we reach our own world Angel will be going back to Los Angeles, and God knows when I'll see him again. At this thought her heart twisted and she had to blink back the moisture that rose to her eyes. �
Angel stopped abruptly. �"I think we're almost out of it. Listen."
Buffy cocked her head. At first all she could hear was the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears, but then she began to distinguish other noises. It sounded like - like - voices? They advanced a few more steps.
"Giles, do you remember this hall? ‘Cause I sure don't." Willow's voice, muffled and ghostly. �"I mean, we were both here when Angel was so sick and I don't remember seeing this."
"I'm very glad you said that, Willow. I was afraid my memory was going." Giles, sounding both relieved and worried. �"So the question now is where did it come from?"
"And where does it lead?" added Willow. A faint beam of light cut through the fog. A flashlight, Buffy assumed. �"Not to mention, does this have anything to do with Buffy's disappearing act."
"Willow, we don't know that Buffy has disappeared. All we know is that she's not at her house or the dorm or with Xander - "
"Or anywhere else that she might normally be," Willow finished. �"Giles, I know something's wrong! I woke up from a sound sleep with this cauld grue that just won't quit."
"Heaven forbid that I should argue with a cauld grue," Giles replied drily. �"So I suppose we need to explore this mysterious corridor?"
Buffy found Angel's arm and squeezed it. Then she called out. �"Giles, Willow, can you hear me?"
"Buffy?" Willow shrieked. �"Where are you? Are you all right? Wait, we'll come in and find you!"
"No! Stay where you are; we're coming out." Hand in hand, Angel and Buffy stepped cautiously forward until suddenly the fog was gone and they found themselves back in the mansion.
"Are you all right?" Willow asked, anxiously. �"Angel, why are you here, and where in the world did you get that shirt? Where were you?"
Angel and Buffy exchanged a glance. �"I'll tell you," Buffy said ruefully, letting her bag drop with a sigh of relief, "but I don't think you'll believe me. It all started with that hallway."
"What hallway?" said Giles in a strange voice. They turned to look. An expanse of solid, bare wall met their astonished gazes, with not even a crack anywhere to indicate that it had ever been anything but a wall. Giles continued, "As soon as you two stepped out of it, it - disappeared."
"Thank God it didn't do that while we were still in it," muttered Angel. �"We could have wandered around in that fog forever." He suddenly leaned on Buffy. �"I need to sit."
Buffy looked stricken. �"God, I forgot! Here, you better go lie down."
Giles came forward. �"Are you injured? What happened?"
"It's nothing," Angel began.
Buffy cut him off. �"Six bullets in the torso," she said crisply, "is hardly ‘nothing,' Angel, even for a vampire." Ignoring his protests she led him to the bedroom and stood over him until he sighed in resignation and lay back on the bed. She slipped his shoes off and sat down beside him. Willow and Giles remained in the living room.
"How soon til dawn?" she asked him. Angel considered a moment. �"A couple of hours," he said.
"That's not enough time for you to get back to L.A."
"It would be if I left right now," he said pointedly.
Buffy started to ask him if that was what he really wanted to do, but paused, already knowing the answer. Of course he didn't want to leave, any more than she wanted him to, but it's what he would do - what he had to do. The love they shared, their mutual need, was too intense for them to safely be together for any length of time. She swallowed hard.
"You need to rest," she pointed out instead, proud that her voice quavered only slightly. �"It's not safe for you to be driving in the shape you're in."
"No," Angel agreed, sighing. Then his eyes met hers with palpable regret. �"But it's not safe for you to stay here with me either."
Because we can't trust ourselves, because we'd want more than we can have, his eyes told her. �The temptation would be too great - just one more kiss, one more touch. . . .
Buffy looked away. �"I know. I'll come back at sunset." Her gaze returned to him, pleading. �"Please don't leave without saying goodbye, not this time." Angel hesitated, and she knew that's what he'd planned to do - just drive away without a word.
"All right," he reluctantly promised.
"Thank you." She touched his face tenderly. �"Get some rest." She started to rise, but Angel caught hold of her and drew her down for a long kiss. When she finally came up for air, he whispered, "See you later."
She nodded silently, and left. As she entered the living room Willow and Giles turned to her. �"Is he all right?" asked Willow. Buffy nodded.
"He'll be okay, just needs to sleep." She gathered up her bag and started walking toward the front door; the others followed.
"He really took six bullets?" Giles wanted to know. When Buffy nodded he raised his eyebrows. �"Would you care to tell us what happened?" His tone was dry. Outside the air was fresh, and Buffy breathed it in gratefully. �"Sure, but I don't think you'll believe me. I'm not sure I believe it myself."
After they'd climbed into Giles old Citroen, she turned to Willow. �"Will, you remember those tapes we watched last night - the Vincent and Catherine ones? Well, that's where we were, in the Tunnel World."
Ten minutes later she let herself into her house, waving a last goodbye to her friends. Giles especially had wanted to discuss the implications of her foray into an alternate world, but she'd put him off with the quite truthful excuse that she was exhausted and with a promise to talk it over with him later that day. Wearily she stumbled upstairs and flung herself onto her bed. She only had time for one wistful Angel to float across her mind and one spasm of longing before sleep overtook her.
LATER - AT SUNSET
Quietly, Buffy let herself into the mansion. �"Angel?" she called softly, not wanting to wake him if he was still sleeping. She heard no answer, so peeked into the bedroom. The bed was empty, and so was the bathroom. Her heart began to pound. Had he left without saying goodbye after all? Then she remembered.
No, you idiot! His car is still outside. Calm again, she wandered over to the french doors leading onto the terrace - and saw Angel. He was going through his tai chi exercises, his movements slow and purposeful, his face intent, marred only by an occasional shadow of pain. Buffy watched for a moment, admiring the graceful play of muscles, then slipped her purse off her shoulder and walked outside. Without missing a beat she joined in, facing him, her gestures a perfect mirror image of his. Their eyes met and clung.
At the end of the exercises, when their hands fell it was onto each other's shoulders - and, in Buffy's case, from there onto the hard planes of Angel's chest. She stroked his cool, silken skin, familiar once more to her senses, and noted with surprise that the bullet wounds were already half-closed. �"I don't remember you healing this fast before," she said with a faint note of inquiry.
Angel hesitated. �"It's because of your blood," he finally told her, quietly. Buffy frowned a little. �"You mean, the day you drank from me?" she asked. �"After Faith shot you?" At his nod her eyes widened. �"I know it cured you of the arrow's poison, but - "
Her disbelieving gaze dropped again to his chest. "You told me that Slayer blood is powerful, but do you mean it's still working? After all these months?"
"Yes." Again he paused. �"Usually when a vampire drinks Slayer blood the effects only last a week or two at most."
"Then - why is it different with you?"
He held her gaze. �"I don't know for sure, but . . . I believe perhaps it's because you are the only Slayer who has given her blood willingly."
The vision of Angel as he'd been that horrible night rose to Buffy's mind. Pale even by vampire standards, suffering, covered with a clammy sweat - a sign of severe physical trauma in a vampire - and the ominous red stain of the poison stretching predatory fingers across his chest, growing visibly with each passing hour.
Shuddering, she forced the image away. �"I'd do it again," she said almost fiercely.
"I know." Angel lowered his head and Buffy rose to meet his lips with her own. Love, regret, sorrow, passion, and great pain but even greater hope - their kiss held them all. A minute went by - or an eternity - it was hard to tell. Finally, with reluctance, they drew apart.
Buffy replaced her hand on Angel's chest. �"I'm glad there's something of me inside you, something that you'll take with you when you leave."
Angel raised the hand to his lips and kissed it. �"You're with me always, Buffy - here." He placed her hand over his heart. �"Remember what Narcissa told us."
She nodded. �"Someday."
"Someday," he echoed. Bending down, he kissed her again. �"Don't stay," he whispered brokenly. �"It will only make it harder to leave."
Again Buffy nodded, silently this time, swallowing back her tears. She stared one last time into his emotion-filled eyes, then stepped back. The physical wrench as she left his embrace was so palpable it felt as if some of her skin was being left behind, stuck fast to her lover. For lovers they were, no matter that the physical aspect of it couldn't be celebrated at this time.
Turning without another word, she walked out the front door and down the street. About thirty yards away she stopped and stood behind a large tree. In only a few minutes Angel walked out of the mansion, large tote bag in hand. He threw the bag in his car, got in, and started the motor. Although a veil of tears blurred her vision as the car receded into the night, in her heart a spark of hope had found its home, and Buffy knew her life had changed once more. Never again would she make the mistake she'd made with Parker, rushing to fill the void in her life with someone she barely knew. No, she would follow her heart, and wait until the time was right.
"Someday," she whispered. �"Someday, Angel."
THE END
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