THE FINAL ENDING
She sat there, unmoving, the shredded tissue still clutched in her small hands. Angel looked at her and sighed. She looked up at him and stood up, smiling.
"Thanks, Angel. You've really been cool about this. Don't know any other guy who'd let me cry all over their designer shirts." When he didn't say anything in reply, she continued. "Look, the sun's coming up. You need to.you know."
Angel nodded and turned to go.
"I'd ask you to stay but the only place around here is Spike's and it's kind of messy. All his things are still stacked up there." She sighed. "Should probably clean them out."
"I can stay and help." He regretted the words the moment they came out. Her face shuttered. Great, he thought to himself. She's so going to want you to touch his things. "Stupid thought." he wryly grimaced, "you don't want me around right now. I have a hotel room so I should get going now. I'll see you soon, Ok." He turned to leave.
"No, actually.if-if you don't really mind.I'd appreciate it if you could stay." Her eyes pleaded with him. She didn't want to do this alone, not now, not in such pain.
He nodded and she directed him down the flight of stairs to the basement. The phone rang so she went to get it and told him to go down and take a look at the bombsite. He guessed it was probably Willow or Giles. Xander was actually too badly in denial to speak to any of them. Angel shook his dark head as he saw the messy piles of boxes and garbage bags.
She came down and walked past him. He watched her back as she absently caressed a small table lamp on the shelf of a dusty bookcase. Her hair may be messy and unkempt and her eyes may be dull, but he was pleased to note the straightness of that back. Good girl, he approved, chin up! He decided to do something he hadn't done for a long time. He decided to be cheerful.
"So, where do we start?"
She turned and smiled abstractly. He braced himself and decided that now was not the time to wallow in admiration of her eyes. Translucent; full; like wet blue forget-me-nots.damn it, Spike is the poet not me, he thought. Then he corrected himself. Spike had been the poet. He was gone now; a pile of ash that had blown away in the breeze.
He shook his head and concentrated.
".it had been so funny.And this one!!!! I remember this one from when I was dating Riley. Spike told me when he moved in that he thought Riley was 'touched in his upper works' for letting me go. You didn't like Riley either," She said, laughing at the memories.
Angel smiled too. "Yeah, well, Riley started it! But trust Spike to come up with such a completely apt description like that." Spike, a fireball of undead energy and indefatigable nerves.
As if reading his thoughts, Buffy said, "It was all nerves. Not nervous, you know," she hastened to add, "but nervy. He'd always be looking around, waiting for something to happen. He called me Slayer because that's what made him jumpy about me. He called you a Poof because he respected you. And we all know about Spike and respect."
Angel laughed. "Oh I could tell you some fine stories about when he was first turned though. His disrespect was not easily won. He had to fight hard for it."
Buffy looked at him, her interest caught. "Tell me," she said simply.
"Well, Spike was always the perfect, rather spineless English middleclass gentleman before he was turned. Drusilla, as you know, changed all that. He was liberated as a vampire, the whole deal with turning his mother and then having to kill her. But you know all that. Crunch time came when he had to run with the pack. Darla was the oldest, most accomplished vampire; Drusilla was crazy and very dangerous; I was.well, I liked torture and bloodshed; more than most. Gave him that, actually."
Angel stopped and looked down, swallowing. No wonder he never liked Angel, Buffy realized.
As if he had heard her, Angel replied, "He didn't always hate me, though. Spike and I used to get along fine. He was a cowering fledgling at first. I loved cowering fledglings I could dominate. I liked him. Then he got his spirit up and took me on in a fight. Busted me up. Oh, I had him on the floor with my foot on his neck, but it was suddenly different. I took him on then, as my childe, and trained him. We scoured Europe together until it was mostly us two guys with the girls following our tracks. We became like brothers, friends, competitors, even." he suddenly pulled the memory short and cleared his throat, an unexpected pink flush tingeing his face.
"Even what?"
"Lovers." Angel said quietly. "We were occasional lovers, though. And it only ever happened in the heat of bloodlust, after a particularly spectacular kill."
Suddenly he could see the lean body stretched around him, the pale skin crushed against his own. He remembered the passion-glazed blue eyes. His reverie was broken by a sobbing, wailing tempest of wild blonde hair and huge, angry blue eyes. Then a small fist shot out and sent him flying against the opposite wall. She was screaming, her voice cracking.
He picked himself and stood there, observing her. Buffy sank down on the floor, her small body wracked by agonizing, aching sobs. The tears that poured down her face felt like the tears she'd cried everyday for one month and twelve days since that day when she'd seen Spike killed. She remembered how she'd come to in the dark alleyway, the hint of dawn about to come, the putrid smell of the docks.
She'd remembered seeing one last thing before being kicked unconscious and she'd run to the spot, only to find a rapidly depleting pile of gray ash. She'd scraped some up in her hand and the crying had started. I feel like I've cried through everything that happened since. Running to tell Giles and the rest, arranging a private funeral service, going into mourning, calling LA to tell them.the only time I haven't cried was when I pushed a sword into the black heart of that hell god who killed him. Then I just killed the guy and hacked his body into little pieces as a revenge offering to the Gods!
Angel stood. "I can understand you're upset but you have to remember that it was common occurrence in those circles. Spike and I lived together. I taught him to torture people, even though some of my methods were not his style. I saw him 'ravage a meal' as he called it before he killed it. Sometimes we shared a victim. That can create a bond between vampires. It- it doesn't matter about the gender really; but when a kill impassions two vampires, their passion may lead to another kind, which in their immoral state can be sexual. If it makes you feel better, it's why he hates me."
"You sound like Giles," a small voice replied.
"Well, I feel weak. You still pack a punch," he tentatively joked.
She looked up and pushed her hair off her face. "You're becoming as smart- assed as Spike!" She conceded.
"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, cheered by her acceptance. He made an old-fashioned courtly bow and suddenly laughed.
Buffy had picked up a thin book from the open tops of one of the boxes and it turned out to be a fact book. "What is this? Some kind of 'bad guys in history' thing?"
"Something like that. Spike pulled out all this stuff on his favorite villains, terrorized a printer into running this up and then turned him anyway. Said he couldn't just kill someone as talented as all that."
The two of them then continued to spend a pleasant, and painful, afternoon going through Spike's stuff. Come darkness, they carried the reminiscing upstairs to the dining room.
Buffy said that she could run out and get some blood for Angel, though he was welcome to try the stuff left in the fridge. Angel had gracefully declined, not really wanting to drink stale blood. Buffy suddenly grinned.
"You have a thing for stale blood too? Yeah, Spike liked his as fresh as possible without actually having to hunt it down. Me, I never got that. I mean, a day old, a week old, it's still blood, right?"
Angel shook his head in mock horror and went to get dinner.
Buffy looked out the window at the stairs and wondered whether the tale about heroes becoming a star was true. She'd like a star; and she hoped that somewhere up there Spike would have a star too. She kicked her legs out from under her chin and ran upstairs to change. She opened the door of the master bedroom and thought achingly about the slow, tender nights of passion. Was I better than Angel, she suddenly wondered. She threw on some fresh clothes and brushed her hair free of tangles. A quick splash of water on her face and she was ready to face Angel with some hard questions.
He was already back at the table. His pockets bulged and he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, but he didn't seem to be doing anything more than waiting for her.
"Have you eaten already?" she asked, looking at the pale face.
"No, not yet. But I'm not that hungry right now, so I thought I'd wait till later. After all you have to eat and that's more important." he wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Still ashamed to eat in front of me? For ten years now I've lived with a man who drank blood for breakfast, lunch and dinner. You can use that cup there if you like."
He flushed again as she took the blood bag out of his pocket and, pouring it, put it to heat up in the microwave. He hated drinking in front of humans. He could smell their blood; sweeter and fresher than the stuff he was drinking. It was an almost irresistible temptation at times.
"Besides," she continued, "I want to talk to you about some stuff and I need you to be thinking clearly."
She pretended not to notice the wary glance he threw at her and waited for him to ask her what she meant. When he didn't say anything she was a bit miffed. Her beautifully cryptic comment was left hanging lamely in the air. She thought ruefully about how Spike would have jumped to the bait, ready to fight it out and make up afterwards.
The microwave went 'ping' and she fetched the blood for him, placing it squarely in front of him. She sat down in front of him, watching him; she knew how much he hated to. She felt ashamed as soon as he picked up the mug with a visible effort and took a small sip. To see him so hesitant was cruel. So she stood up and began to make a dinner she didn't really want.
She talked brightly about how nice it was to see him again and how she hoped that if he wasn't planning to stay he'd keep in touch; all nice, inconsequential things to fill the room with sound, to ease the embarrassment and to give him a chance to finish his meal.
She sat down finally with the plate in front of her. The mug was empty.
"Thank you," he said looking up.
As he was always able to, his dark brown eyes stared intently into hers and he knew. He knew the reason for her chattering, and he was so grateful. This tiny woman who had outsmarted nine apocalypses, a brutal fight with the First, three heartbreaking love affairs, the death of her mother, the upbringing of her kid sister and the ups and down of difficult friendships. He knew he wanted her, had always wanted her. His redemption would only be the sweeter because she had once wanted it for him.
She chewed slowly on a bite of food and then pushed it away, not liking the taste.
"You need to eat, you know. I'll have to force it down your throat if you don't. Spike would have wanted it," he explained to her. "In fact, if he was here, he'd do it himself."
"Spike was too much of a gentleman to do that," she shot back.
"Really, so he hasn't had the pleasure of threatening to tickle you to death in order get his way?"
Angel pretended to be astounded and watched satisfied as Buffy laughed. Only it hurt because she had that faraway look in her eyes that meant she was going somewhere he couldn't follow her. She was thinking of Spike and Angel wished that she wouldn't- not in front of him at any rate.
"So what are those hard questions anyway?" he asked abruptly.
Buffy had suddenly forgotten what she had wanted to ask him so she was forced to think again.
"Well, for a start, there's one thing."her voice trailed off. "Just something you mentioned."
Suddenly the frown on his face cleared as he smiled in understanding. "Look, if you want to ask about Spike and me just go ahead. Spike was ashamed. I'm not. So shoot, as Cordy would have said."
"Speaking of which, I'm sorry about what's happened to her. Anyway, you're right. It's about you and Spike. What was it like?"
"If Spike was here, he'd be ready to kill me. Hmmmm.it was.nice? Ok, if I have to be brutally honest I have to say it was great. Spike, as you know, was passionate. In many ways he was more human that any other vampire I know. We'd get a kill together and the bloodlust would pound through our veins and then it would just happen. The first time. well, neither of us wanted it. In fact, I gave him hell about it. Then it happened again and this time I was more ready for it, knew how to control it. That answers your questions?"
"No. Listen, this is a ridiculous question so.feel free not to answer. You've slept with me once, right? Was I a good lover? I- I mean would I have satisfied Spike? You know, I tried and he- he was always complimentary, but then.you know.was I?"
"Buffy, I- I think I was your first. You hadn't had any experience then so what you were like then was probably different to what you are now."
"I- I know."
"If it makes any difference," he continued, "you were good then and you're probably better now. Besides, experience or not, I don't think real love needs expertise! It's all from within. And Spike was happy."
Buffy looked up quickly. How does he know, she wondered. She knew Angel. Her soul knew him even though she hadn't seen him for so long. He's not telling me something, she decided.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Angel didn't know how to tell her. This bewitching woman of 31 knew him too well. She trusted him and the last time he'd done any hidden surveillance there had been dire consequences.
"Well, about nine years ago, I kinda went through the first stage of my shanshu. The conditions of the curse were removed. In other words I'm still a vampire; but now I can carry on a normal relationship. I know, I know, I should have told you and I tried to but when I came back to Sunnydale I saw the two of you, together. You looked at him the way you used to look at me, so in love. I wanted that back. I wanted to give you all that and make you remember what we'd shared. I would have cheerfully killed him, you know. But then him." Angel's eyes closed as he saw that expression again. "He was.ecstatic. Like, like an angel was walking next to him. He looked at you like you were all that mattered. No smirks, no sarcasm, no self-mockery. He was content. And that was when you were complaining about some terrible movie he had just made you watch! Imagine when you were in his arms, when you told him you loved him.I couldn't take that away from him. So I left you two alone. Until last week when I got the message."
Buffy looked at him. "Did you really come back for me? I thought you'd decided to move on. I thought you didn't want me in your new life. I knew about the shanshu thing. Wesley told Giles during a monthly update session and I wondered why you didn't come. Spike thought he should go kick your ass but I said you'd come when you were ready."
"Would you have come to me if I'd given you a choice?" he stared at her intently, knowing the answer already but curious to know what the explanation would be.
"I don't know," she murmured. Her eyes looked back to the dates, full of fun and excitement. Patented Spike Dates, she'd called them. Then the moving in part where Spike had told her that he would marry her except he hated churches. "Not very welcome in 'em, am I, pet," he'd said.
"I don't know what I would have chosen. You really are my soul mate. But then so was Spike. I fought it like hell at first, but there was no question. I loved him. Funny as it sounds, I- I love him like I love you. Even now I couldn't decide. I just.I'm thankful you never made me. Spike made me so happy. It's like he's got a part of me that no one else has. And yet you have it too. I'm not doing this very well but."
"I understand," Angel interrupted. "In fact, I guessed as much. Listen, I should leave. You're in mourning right now. If- if you're OK with it, I'll call you. I do love you, Buffy. Never stopped! I- I've been with other women a few times since I got the happiness clause removed, but they're not you and I don't want them. But this is all your choice. Whatever makes you happy."
"Angel, you- you.POOF! I'm in love with you now! My call is I want you. Spike always knew that. He knew how much you loved me, just as I did. Mind, I'm not regretting my life with him and he was no mistake. But I want a new life with you."
Angel looked at her, unable to believe his good luck. He suddenly got that same feeling as when he opened the drapes at the office and let the sunlight warm his face. She was his sunshine.
"Are you sure?" he asked, hardly daring to hear her answer in case she had reconsidered.
"I am," she said laughing. This time the laugh was real, rich. A true Buffy- laugh, he thought, one just for me.
"Well." he began, not sure how to go on.
"Come on," she said, slinging on Spike's old leather duster, "Let's go look at the moon."
The two left together. A star in the sky twinkled at them and Spike sighed with relief that his Slayer would be Ok.
She sat there, unmoving, the shredded tissue still clutched in her small hands. Angel looked at her and sighed. She looked up at him and stood up, smiling.
"Thanks, Angel. You've really been cool about this. Don't know any other guy who'd let me cry all over their designer shirts." When he didn't say anything in reply, she continued. "Look, the sun's coming up. You need to.you know."
Angel nodded and turned to go.
"I'd ask you to stay but the only place around here is Spike's and it's kind of messy. All his things are still stacked up there." She sighed. "Should probably clean them out."
"I can stay and help." He regretted the words the moment they came out. Her face shuttered. Great, he thought to himself. She's so going to want you to touch his things. "Stupid thought." he wryly grimaced, "you don't want me around right now. I have a hotel room so I should get going now. I'll see you soon, Ok." He turned to leave.
"No, actually.if-if you don't really mind.I'd appreciate it if you could stay." Her eyes pleaded with him. She didn't want to do this alone, not now, not in such pain.
He nodded and she directed him down the flight of stairs to the basement. The phone rang so she went to get it and told him to go down and take a look at the bombsite. He guessed it was probably Willow or Giles. Xander was actually too badly in denial to speak to any of them. Angel shook his dark head as he saw the messy piles of boxes and garbage bags.
She came down and walked past him. He watched her back as she absently caressed a small table lamp on the shelf of a dusty bookcase. Her hair may be messy and unkempt and her eyes may be dull, but he was pleased to note the straightness of that back. Good girl, he approved, chin up! He decided to do something he hadn't done for a long time. He decided to be cheerful.
"So, where do we start?"
She turned and smiled abstractly. He braced himself and decided that now was not the time to wallow in admiration of her eyes. Translucent; full; like wet blue forget-me-nots.damn it, Spike is the poet not me, he thought. Then he corrected himself. Spike had been the poet. He was gone now; a pile of ash that had blown away in the breeze.
He shook his head and concentrated.
".it had been so funny.And this one!!!! I remember this one from when I was dating Riley. Spike told me when he moved in that he thought Riley was 'touched in his upper works' for letting me go. You didn't like Riley either," She said, laughing at the memories.
Angel smiled too. "Yeah, well, Riley started it! But trust Spike to come up with such a completely apt description like that." Spike, a fireball of undead energy and indefatigable nerves.
As if reading his thoughts, Buffy said, "It was all nerves. Not nervous, you know," she hastened to add, "but nervy. He'd always be looking around, waiting for something to happen. He called me Slayer because that's what made him jumpy about me. He called you a Poof because he respected you. And we all know about Spike and respect."
Angel laughed. "Oh I could tell you some fine stories about when he was first turned though. His disrespect was not easily won. He had to fight hard for it."
Buffy looked at him, her interest caught. "Tell me," she said simply.
"Well, Spike was always the perfect, rather spineless English middleclass gentleman before he was turned. Drusilla, as you know, changed all that. He was liberated as a vampire, the whole deal with turning his mother and then having to kill her. But you know all that. Crunch time came when he had to run with the pack. Darla was the oldest, most accomplished vampire; Drusilla was crazy and very dangerous; I was.well, I liked torture and bloodshed; more than most. Gave him that, actually."
Angel stopped and looked down, swallowing. No wonder he never liked Angel, Buffy realized.
As if he had heard her, Angel replied, "He didn't always hate me, though. Spike and I used to get along fine. He was a cowering fledgling at first. I loved cowering fledglings I could dominate. I liked him. Then he got his spirit up and took me on in a fight. Busted me up. Oh, I had him on the floor with my foot on his neck, but it was suddenly different. I took him on then, as my childe, and trained him. We scoured Europe together until it was mostly us two guys with the girls following our tracks. We became like brothers, friends, competitors, even." he suddenly pulled the memory short and cleared his throat, an unexpected pink flush tingeing his face.
"Even what?"
"Lovers." Angel said quietly. "We were occasional lovers, though. And it only ever happened in the heat of bloodlust, after a particularly spectacular kill."
Suddenly he could see the lean body stretched around him, the pale skin crushed against his own. He remembered the passion-glazed blue eyes. His reverie was broken by a sobbing, wailing tempest of wild blonde hair and huge, angry blue eyes. Then a small fist shot out and sent him flying against the opposite wall. She was screaming, her voice cracking.
He picked himself and stood there, observing her. Buffy sank down on the floor, her small body wracked by agonizing, aching sobs. The tears that poured down her face felt like the tears she'd cried everyday for one month and twelve days since that day when she'd seen Spike killed. She remembered how she'd come to in the dark alleyway, the hint of dawn about to come, the putrid smell of the docks.
She'd remembered seeing one last thing before being kicked unconscious and she'd run to the spot, only to find a rapidly depleting pile of gray ash. She'd scraped some up in her hand and the crying had started. I feel like I've cried through everything that happened since. Running to tell Giles and the rest, arranging a private funeral service, going into mourning, calling LA to tell them.the only time I haven't cried was when I pushed a sword into the black heart of that hell god who killed him. Then I just killed the guy and hacked his body into little pieces as a revenge offering to the Gods!
Angel stood. "I can understand you're upset but you have to remember that it was common occurrence in those circles. Spike and I lived together. I taught him to torture people, even though some of my methods were not his style. I saw him 'ravage a meal' as he called it before he killed it. Sometimes we shared a victim. That can create a bond between vampires. It- it doesn't matter about the gender really; but when a kill impassions two vampires, their passion may lead to another kind, which in their immoral state can be sexual. If it makes you feel better, it's why he hates me."
"You sound like Giles," a small voice replied.
"Well, I feel weak. You still pack a punch," he tentatively joked.
She looked up and pushed her hair off her face. "You're becoming as smart- assed as Spike!" She conceded.
"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, cheered by her acceptance. He made an old-fashioned courtly bow and suddenly laughed.
Buffy had picked up a thin book from the open tops of one of the boxes and it turned out to be a fact book. "What is this? Some kind of 'bad guys in history' thing?"
"Something like that. Spike pulled out all this stuff on his favorite villains, terrorized a printer into running this up and then turned him anyway. Said he couldn't just kill someone as talented as all that."
The two of them then continued to spend a pleasant, and painful, afternoon going through Spike's stuff. Come darkness, they carried the reminiscing upstairs to the dining room.
Buffy said that she could run out and get some blood for Angel, though he was welcome to try the stuff left in the fridge. Angel had gracefully declined, not really wanting to drink stale blood. Buffy suddenly grinned.
"You have a thing for stale blood too? Yeah, Spike liked his as fresh as possible without actually having to hunt it down. Me, I never got that. I mean, a day old, a week old, it's still blood, right?"
Angel shook his head in mock horror and went to get dinner.
Buffy looked out the window at the stairs and wondered whether the tale about heroes becoming a star was true. She'd like a star; and she hoped that somewhere up there Spike would have a star too. She kicked her legs out from under her chin and ran upstairs to change. She opened the door of the master bedroom and thought achingly about the slow, tender nights of passion. Was I better than Angel, she suddenly wondered. She threw on some fresh clothes and brushed her hair free of tangles. A quick splash of water on her face and she was ready to face Angel with some hard questions.
He was already back at the table. His pockets bulged and he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, but he didn't seem to be doing anything more than waiting for her.
"Have you eaten already?" she asked, looking at the pale face.
"No, not yet. But I'm not that hungry right now, so I thought I'd wait till later. After all you have to eat and that's more important." he wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Still ashamed to eat in front of me? For ten years now I've lived with a man who drank blood for breakfast, lunch and dinner. You can use that cup there if you like."
He flushed again as she took the blood bag out of his pocket and, pouring it, put it to heat up in the microwave. He hated drinking in front of humans. He could smell their blood; sweeter and fresher than the stuff he was drinking. It was an almost irresistible temptation at times.
"Besides," she continued, "I want to talk to you about some stuff and I need you to be thinking clearly."
She pretended not to notice the wary glance he threw at her and waited for him to ask her what she meant. When he didn't say anything she was a bit miffed. Her beautifully cryptic comment was left hanging lamely in the air. She thought ruefully about how Spike would have jumped to the bait, ready to fight it out and make up afterwards.
The microwave went 'ping' and she fetched the blood for him, placing it squarely in front of him. She sat down in front of him, watching him; she knew how much he hated to. She felt ashamed as soon as he picked up the mug with a visible effort and took a small sip. To see him so hesitant was cruel. So she stood up and began to make a dinner she didn't really want.
She talked brightly about how nice it was to see him again and how she hoped that if he wasn't planning to stay he'd keep in touch; all nice, inconsequential things to fill the room with sound, to ease the embarrassment and to give him a chance to finish his meal.
She sat down finally with the plate in front of her. The mug was empty.
"Thank you," he said looking up.
As he was always able to, his dark brown eyes stared intently into hers and he knew. He knew the reason for her chattering, and he was so grateful. This tiny woman who had outsmarted nine apocalypses, a brutal fight with the First, three heartbreaking love affairs, the death of her mother, the upbringing of her kid sister and the ups and down of difficult friendships. He knew he wanted her, had always wanted her. His redemption would only be the sweeter because she had once wanted it for him.
She chewed slowly on a bite of food and then pushed it away, not liking the taste.
"You need to eat, you know. I'll have to force it down your throat if you don't. Spike would have wanted it," he explained to her. "In fact, if he was here, he'd do it himself."
"Spike was too much of a gentleman to do that," she shot back.
"Really, so he hasn't had the pleasure of threatening to tickle you to death in order get his way?"
Angel pretended to be astounded and watched satisfied as Buffy laughed. Only it hurt because she had that faraway look in her eyes that meant she was going somewhere he couldn't follow her. She was thinking of Spike and Angel wished that she wouldn't- not in front of him at any rate.
"So what are those hard questions anyway?" he asked abruptly.
Buffy had suddenly forgotten what she had wanted to ask him so she was forced to think again.
"Well, for a start, there's one thing."her voice trailed off. "Just something you mentioned."
Suddenly the frown on his face cleared as he smiled in understanding. "Look, if you want to ask about Spike and me just go ahead. Spike was ashamed. I'm not. So shoot, as Cordy would have said."
"Speaking of which, I'm sorry about what's happened to her. Anyway, you're right. It's about you and Spike. What was it like?"
"If Spike was here, he'd be ready to kill me. Hmmmm.it was.nice? Ok, if I have to be brutally honest I have to say it was great. Spike, as you know, was passionate. In many ways he was more human that any other vampire I know. We'd get a kill together and the bloodlust would pound through our veins and then it would just happen. The first time. well, neither of us wanted it. In fact, I gave him hell about it. Then it happened again and this time I was more ready for it, knew how to control it. That answers your questions?"
"No. Listen, this is a ridiculous question so.feel free not to answer. You've slept with me once, right? Was I a good lover? I- I mean would I have satisfied Spike? You know, I tried and he- he was always complimentary, but then.you know.was I?"
"Buffy, I- I think I was your first. You hadn't had any experience then so what you were like then was probably different to what you are now."
"I- I know."
"If it makes any difference," he continued, "you were good then and you're probably better now. Besides, experience or not, I don't think real love needs expertise! It's all from within. And Spike was happy."
Buffy looked up quickly. How does he know, she wondered. She knew Angel. Her soul knew him even though she hadn't seen him for so long. He's not telling me something, she decided.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Angel didn't know how to tell her. This bewitching woman of 31 knew him too well. She trusted him and the last time he'd done any hidden surveillance there had been dire consequences.
"Well, about nine years ago, I kinda went through the first stage of my shanshu. The conditions of the curse were removed. In other words I'm still a vampire; but now I can carry on a normal relationship. I know, I know, I should have told you and I tried to but when I came back to Sunnydale I saw the two of you, together. You looked at him the way you used to look at me, so in love. I wanted that back. I wanted to give you all that and make you remember what we'd shared. I would have cheerfully killed him, you know. But then him." Angel's eyes closed as he saw that expression again. "He was.ecstatic. Like, like an angel was walking next to him. He looked at you like you were all that mattered. No smirks, no sarcasm, no self-mockery. He was content. And that was when you were complaining about some terrible movie he had just made you watch! Imagine when you were in his arms, when you told him you loved him.I couldn't take that away from him. So I left you two alone. Until last week when I got the message."
Buffy looked at him. "Did you really come back for me? I thought you'd decided to move on. I thought you didn't want me in your new life. I knew about the shanshu thing. Wesley told Giles during a monthly update session and I wondered why you didn't come. Spike thought he should go kick your ass but I said you'd come when you were ready."
"Would you have come to me if I'd given you a choice?" he stared at her intently, knowing the answer already but curious to know what the explanation would be.
"I don't know," she murmured. Her eyes looked back to the dates, full of fun and excitement. Patented Spike Dates, she'd called them. Then the moving in part where Spike had told her that he would marry her except he hated churches. "Not very welcome in 'em, am I, pet," he'd said.
"I don't know what I would have chosen. You really are my soul mate. But then so was Spike. I fought it like hell at first, but there was no question. I loved him. Funny as it sounds, I- I love him like I love you. Even now I couldn't decide. I just.I'm thankful you never made me. Spike made me so happy. It's like he's got a part of me that no one else has. And yet you have it too. I'm not doing this very well but."
"I understand," Angel interrupted. "In fact, I guessed as much. Listen, I should leave. You're in mourning right now. If- if you're OK with it, I'll call you. I do love you, Buffy. Never stopped! I- I've been with other women a few times since I got the happiness clause removed, but they're not you and I don't want them. But this is all your choice. Whatever makes you happy."
"Angel, you- you.POOF! I'm in love with you now! My call is I want you. Spike always knew that. He knew how much you loved me, just as I did. Mind, I'm not regretting my life with him and he was no mistake. But I want a new life with you."
Angel looked at her, unable to believe his good luck. He suddenly got that same feeling as when he opened the drapes at the office and let the sunlight warm his face. She was his sunshine.
"Are you sure?" he asked, hardly daring to hear her answer in case she had reconsidered.
"I am," she said laughing. This time the laugh was real, rich. A true Buffy- laugh, he thought, one just for me.
"Well." he began, not sure how to go on.
"Come on," she said, slinging on Spike's old leather duster, "Let's go look at the moon."
The two left together. A star in the sky twinkled at them and Spike sighed with relief that his Slayer would be Ok.