Everything Ends
Today was a time for endings, for goodbyes, and although deep down she knew this was for the best, she couldn't help wishing things had turned out differently for them. Angel was leaving, she watched him walk away, and it hurt. There was a pain, a terrible, burning, white hot pain somewhere in her chest that she knew would never heal, that would fade with time but would rear its ugly head whenever she thought of him. Buffy felt her heart break, and wondered how it was still there after the many beatings it had received. She watched him, duster fanning out behind him, leaving her behind, and she hated him. She hated him for leaving, for assuming he knew what was best for her, for making him fall in love with her and putting down roots in her heart. Buffy hated Angel, but she loved him more, so she concentrated on repressing the violent rage that was erupting within her, the fury that was telling her to run, run now and stake him in the back, to punish him for the pain she knew was coming to drown her. She suppressed the hysterical teenage Buffy who was urging her to run after him and beg him to stay, tell him she loved him, and convince him that she was strong enough to love him and never have him, but that she wasn't strong enough to let him go. Buffy suppressed the child who was screaming at her to sit on the ground, to cry, scream and stamp her feet until he came back. Later, she would lie in her bed, and she would relinquish control, she would let it out, she would lose herself in the pain and the misery for days, maybe weeks. Buffy would have her breakdown, but now she had to be the Slayer. There were messes to clear up, a debriefing with Giles, friends and classmates to bury. Willow touched her shoulder, silently asking her if she was okay, and she almost lost it, but she nodded, gave a weak smile, and turned away from spot she'd last seen him. He was gone. The apocalypse had been averted, but Buffy's world was imploding.
Angel watched her, he had doubled back as soon as the smoke had swallowed him, and now he stood in the shadows. He watched her face, and saw her inner struggle, the pure rage that flitted across it for a few seconds, and it scared him. He saw the agony that tainted her perfect features and he hated himself, it stabbed him through the heart and he knew that no matter how many years he survived, he would never feel pain like it. He saw her face morph back to childhood as she considered a tantrum, and he smiled, he had never known a young Buffy, but he knew that look. He watched as Willow touched her shoulder, as Buffy faltered, and then let the Slayer determination shine through, and he was proud, he knew she would survive this, and that gave him the strength to turn around and walk away again. He would miss her, of course he would, he had loved her from the moment he had first set eyes on her in L.A, and he would love her until the day he turned to dust. But she had always loved him more. He had waited his whole life, and death, to love Buffy, but he had always held back, knew it couldn't work, that he could never take her life away from her. She had jumped in, both feet, and loved him with everything she was, she had never been able to help herself. As her mother had unnecessarily reminded him, she was just a girl in love, he was all she could see of tomorrow. Now that there were no tomorrows for them, maybe she could move on. Angel knew that he would drop in from time to time, just to check up on her, but she would never know he was there. Her life as the Slayer was hard enough without adding an ensouled vampire boyfriend to the mix. She would move on, grow up, be happy. He could never give her the life, or the children she deserved, and she deserved everything. As he drove away from his heart and back to the place he had first laid eyes on her, he had only one thought; Angel loved Buffy Summers, but today was a day for endings, for goodbyes.