Disclaimer: I can't think of anything witty to say to tell you that they're not mine.
Summary: Angel visits Buffy's grave and meets the dawn.
A/n: Ok, so this is my first Buffy fic, so please review and give me some feedback, but be nice. No flames, please.
Angel's POV
She was the greatest women I've ever known. Strong: both physically and in will. She could be hard-headed, but only when she knew she was in the right. Though she was smart, both book and street, her heart far outweighed her brain. She did things on instinct and emotion; never letting her head talk her out of anything she knew she had to do. And she lived decades longer than was predicted. But those very few decades didn't last long enough.
Her headstone is weathered from years of storms. The weeks old flowers now wilt. I know how they feel. She would want me to go on. She told me that once. That is the second hardest thing she ever asked me to do, beaten only by asking me to tell her that I didn't love her. I couldn't do that, and I'm not sure I can do this. People tell me it's okay to cry, but is it okay to never stop?
I lay a single white rose on her headstone. Not red; never red. Under her name and the years she lived are words that could hold no truer meaning: The one true light in the purest darkness.
I chose that. They asked me to pick something that described her; that I could do it best. That's her to a T. When the end of the world was at hand, her smile could make me feel the sun's warmth beneath the light of the moon.
In mere minutes, I will meet the dawn, and if there is a God, this beating heart will turn to ash. But I realized that there is no God the day she left this plane for good.
I've never been strong enough to do it myself. It's not as easy to think about death as a man; but maybe if I think about her eyes. She could always get me to do anything, as long as I looked into her eyes.
Though the thought of release is enough to make my soul soar, questions still arise in my head. Will I see her again? Will I even make it to the only place she could be? Will she welcome me? Will she be upset? Does she even care?
I know the answer to the last one. She told me that the night she…I can't even say it. She told me she would always love me. That I was still all she saw when she looked into the future. All she wanted.
It's the other questions that scare me. And fear is a power greater than want, so I sit here by her headstone, and we watch out first sunrise together.
I know in my soul that, somewhere, she is smiling. Her smiles always were contagious, so through the salty tears that cascade down my cheeks, I smile, because she gave me the sun and she gave me her love, and that's something worth smiling for.