Author's Notes: This is a little off-canon and takes place not long after Chosen/Not Fade Away. Happy Valentine's Day!
She feels the warm sand webbed between her toes, leaving tiny specks across her bronzed skin. The hot, feral wind places scorching kisses along the length of her arms, seeping through the skin's numerous layers.
Frothy waves lap against the shore, the brine scents of algae and salt brushing her.
She wrinkles her nose and swivels her head.
A tall shadow hovers nearby.
Longing unfolds within her. It courses through her blood, as if prickled with excitement that's been dormant for too long.
This won't last, thinking cynically to herself.
She couldn't will herself to face him again. Because the first time was more than unbearable. When they locked eyes, it stole her breath and prompted her to pay no attention to anything else but his Irish beauty.
He's standing under the sunlight. He's not turning into ashes. He's not dying. Not screaming in pain. I never thought…I never thought this day would come. That this would finally happen. I should be crying. But I'm not. It feels too much like a dream. One I'm scared as hell to wake up from.
Her body stiffens when she senses him approaching.
"Is this how it's gonna be? You giving me the silent treatment?" he muses, but there was a weariness in his voice.
Her back is ramrod straight and she stares listlessly into the blue-green of the Pacific Ocean, her mouth a flat line.
"It's not. It's just…" her voice drifts off. Reluctantly, she turns to meet his eyes; a brown that was missing its stable light. For the second time, she's taken aback. Instead of turning away, she studies the crow's feet etched in the corners of his eyes, the deep wrinkles marring his face, the permanent scars masking his cheekbones.
Humanity replaces his immortality. His skin is no longer a pale shade.
He's careful to maintain a safe distance between them. "Just what?" he urges.
"Do you have any idea how many times I've dreamt about this? How many times I wished things between us was like this? Me and you, just a normal couple in the sun? Not this vampire with a soul and a Slayer chosen to save the world visage?"
Her eyes now threw daggers at him. A lump forms in her throat and she turns back towards the shore.
He says nothing.
"Dreaming about this day was a thing that kept me going because I didn't want to think that killing and saving the world and losing loved ones was the only thing I had to look forward to in the future. My dreams kept that bit of hope I had alive. It kept me alive."
She wipes at the unshed tears. Water drops splash across her face; a reminder of the harshness of reality. She pauses before continuing.
"I never stopped loving you Angel."
She feels his eyes peering at her back.
"Because I was never able to. Not with Riley. Parker. Scott. Not even Spike. You were always somewhere in the back of my mind. Even when you left Sunnydale. Even when I was losing myself. In my head you never seemed to go away, no matter how hard I tried."
He braces himself and sits beside her, spiky hair disheveled by the sudden gusty winds. He links his fingers under his knees, his attention fixated on the rolling waves.
"The things I've done after I left…" he murmurs, trying to compose himself.
She turns her body towards his direction.
The temptation to reach out and force him against her was almost too much. She felt the emotion tugging at her chest but restrains herself at the last minute.
Being near him was still dangerous to her well-being apparently.
"I know what you did."
"How…?" a baffled look crosses his face.
She flashes a grim smile. "Willow."
"I know about Darla, Drusilla. Nina. Cordelia. And," she hesitates, "your son."
At this he grimaces, adrenaline pumping through his core.
"I wasn't sure how you'd react. Not after what Darla tried to do to you," he admits. "We were living different lives in different cities. I didn't think it even mattered."
"My creature of the night ex-boyfriend miraculously has a son. You didn't think it wouldn't matter to me?" she snorts.
"Not when you were living a life I felt you deserved without me no."
He throws a quick glance at her, his hands fidgeting. A behavior that was not usual to the cool, calm, stealthy personality he was usually known for.
She notices but doesn't say anything.
"Then why are you here? Is there danger should I beware Mr. Stealth Guy?" comes her sarcastic reply. Inwardly, she grins as the words brought forth a memory of him clutching Mr. Gordo.
"I…," his mouth tries to form a coherent sentence.
"Come on Angel. You never used to be this nervous around me. What gives?"
This time she inches closer in an effort to take his hand. To ease and comfort him.
He doesn't stop her.
It's a simple gesture, but it takes her off guard. Unlike the many times they held hands, his radiates a warmth engulfing her mind, body, and spirit, forcing her to drown in the overpowering sensation.
Finally able to see him walk in the sun and now this.
"I'm getting the wiggins here," she tries to joke but continues to hold on.
Just as it arrives, the sensation is gone; Angel's hand now a lukewarm temperature.
"Whoa. Do I wanna know what just happened?" she inquires with a raised eyebrow, her mind in a slight haze.
She tilts her head down to see their hands are still linked.
"Only that this was supposed to happen," Angel smiles mischievously.
She watches him rise to his feet, then pulls her along with him as they begin to stride along the shore. He releases his hand from hers, encircling it around her waist.
For a moment they say nothing as they drink in the sunlight.
"I remember the last time we were here. I was looking at the ocean, taking it all in. I felt you walking behind me; felt your arms wrapping around my waist, holding on to me." A faraway look shadows her face.
"When?"
She looks at him before answering.
"After I killed you." She places her right hand on his beating heart.
It was the best sound in the world.
"I asked you in the dream to stay with me. And you told me forever. That it was the whole point."
She pulls her hand away. Once again her eyes study every wrinkle, every pore, every line, every battle scar as if she wants to engrave an image of his face into her memory forever, wondering if the moment right now was merely another dream.
"I don't want this to end," she murmurs.
"Me too," he answers softly, a fierce protectiveness lurking behind his eyes as he pulls her against him.
"It's not a dream is it?" he hears the fear and worry in her voice.
"No." He kisses the crown of her head. "It's why I'm here. I was hoping we could…start over. You know, the curse not being in the way anymore."
"And why's that?" Her facial expression radiates a sense of wanting to know.
"Because I need to tell you what happened between us when you were in L.A. Something that was taken from you. Why I'm not standing here a pile of ashes."
She looks away for a moment, reflecting. Letting his words sink in.
"Okay then. Tell me." She smiles up at him. He returns it with intense emotion.
"Oh, and before you do, remember how I said that I wasn't ready to be cookies?"
"Yeah?" He stares at her with a quizzical expression.
Along the hem of her skirt laid a stitched pocket. She carefully pulls out a bag of chocolate chip cookies.
She tosses him a dazzled grin. "I am now."
Only a second passes and their warm lips meet, tongues clashing. Sorrow and the many years of despair and heartbreak begins to fade away.
For Buffy and Angel, a hope for a new beginning awaits them.