Alternative Ending To Angel Episode 8, Season 1:
I Will Remember You

[Scene: Angel has returned to his apartment from the Oracles and told Buffy that he will go back in time, and that their day together will be erased. In the original, she says: "How much time do we have?" He replies: "About one minute." This first insert replaces the "About one minute."]

"How much time do we have?" Buffy asked anxiously.

Angel glanced at the mantle clock. "One hour." He replied.

"No! That's not enough time!" Buffy clung to him fiercely.

Angel gently disengaged. "Here." He said, drawing a pen from his pocket.

Buffy was incredulous. "You want to spend our last hour together . . ."

"Writing letters to you." Angel finished for her. "I will remember everything. You won't. We have to tell you. You have to tell you. It won't be as good as a memory, but . . ."

Buffy stared at the pen.

"But . . .?"

"The Oracles say it'll work. I don't understand either."

Buffy nodded, and took the pen.

"I think that I should do the back story." Angel had thought it through on the way home. "You concentrate on specifics. Feelings. Smells. Whatever builds a memory. Okay?"
"Wait. You're writing too?"

"Yeah." Angel shrugged helplessly. "What am I supposed to do, sit here and yearn?"

Buffy smiled sadly. "One hour?"

"Fifty minutes." Angel corrected. "I'm not going to spend our last ten minutes together – really together – holding a pen."
For a moment, the just stared at each other.

Buffy collected herself.

"I need paper."

[Fast forward through the tearful goodbye "I won't forget, I won't forget, I won't forget." Angel has gone back. He remembers. Buffy doesn't. He kills the Mora demon. Etc. This picks up at Buffy's last line: "And that's all there really is to say."]

"And that's all there really is to say."

Buffy turned to go.

"No." Angel steeled himself. "It's not."
Buffy cocked an eyebrow back over her shoulder.

He crossed the room, and cradled her face in his hands.

"I love you." He said. "I love only you. I've never loved anyone else. I never will. Ever. I would sacrifice anything – everything – to be with you. Except you. I won't sacrifice you. And I will do what I can to protect you. And I will skulk. And, " he sighed. "I will do my best to stay out of sight. Because I can't give you what you've always wanted."
"And what's that?" Buffy challenged.

"To be a normal girl," Angel quoted. "Falling asleep in the arms of your normal boyfriend."

Buffy pulled away angrily. "How dare you." Her voice dripped scorn. "How dare you leave me, and then tell me that it's what I've always wanted? I know what I want. I want you!"

"No." Angel sighed. "You don't."

"How do you know?"

"Because you told me." Angel offered her the letters.

Buffy eyed them suspiciously. "What are those?"

"Letters." Angel thrust them into her hands. "This one's from me. And this one." He tapped it with his finger. "This one's from you."

Buffy's suspicion hardened.

"Look." Angel pleaded. "You won't believe me if I tell you. Just read the letters. Mine first, then yours. Please." He headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To the lobby."
"To do what?"

"Skulk." His smirk soon faded.

"That," he pointed at the letters, "just happened to me. We finished writing," he checked the clock, "exactly 17 minutes ago."

His voice hollowed. "I can't watch you read them. I can't. We'll talk when you're done."
He fled.

It took Buffy 20 minutes to read the letters. It took 20 minutes more for her to peel herself off the floor and join Angel in the lobby.

Angel was leaning pensively against Cordelia's desk, arms crossed. He looked up as she approached, but said nothing. Buffy took a deep breath.

"You asshole!" Her kick to his chest launched Angel up onto Cordelia's desk. It crumpled beneath his weight.

Angel gingerly got to his feet. "Buffy . . ."
She hit him again, this time with a reverse jump kick that sent him spinning into the bookshelf.

"How could you?" Another kick. His fall smashed the coffeemaker and crushed its stand.

"How could you end it without asking me?" She took him by the hair and punched a hole through the drywall with his head. "Why is it always you who gets to choose?"

Angel's stoicism cracked.

"Get to choose?" He blocked her next kick, pushed her backwards, and loomed. Buffy paused her attack. She realized that she'd never seen him really angry before.

"Get to choose?" He was almost shouting now. "I have to live without you forever."

Angel got a grip. "Last week," his pain was quieter now. "When I was following you, skulking, watching you build a new life that doesn't include me – it was torture, Buffy.

"And then I had you. For one day, you were mine. Really mine. And it was perfect. And I remember every second.

"And then I got to choose to spend eternity – eternity – without you, knowing exactly what I'm missing."

Angel's eyes widened with horror at what he'd just said. He'd been working hard to avoid thinking about the long-term.

"Oh, God." He moaned softly, collapsing onto the couch. "I'm going to feel like this forever."

Buffy crouched down in front of him.

"Then why'd you do it?" She begged.

Angel stared through her, dazed. "The Oracles said that you would die if I didn't. 'Together we are strong.'" He paraphrased the Mora Demon. "But only if I'm a vampire. We have to fight together. But we can't be together. Or I lose you, knowing that I might have been able to save you."

His eyes came back into focus. "What would you do?" He asked simply. "What would you do – what would you give up – for a chance to keep me safe?"
Buffy looked down. "Everything." She conceded. "Even you, if I meant that I might save you."
"I love you." The intensity crept back into Angel's voice. "Please believe me. Please don't ever say again – don't ever think again – that I don't care. Promise me."

Abashed, Buffy nodded slowly. "I promise."

"Oh, Christ." Cordelia surveyed the damage from the doorway, Doyle's wide eyes peering in over her shoulder.

"Is this a bad time?" Cordelia asked bitingly.

"No." Buffy stood, wiping her eyes. "I think we're done for now."
"Well, that's a relief." Cordelia tried to extricate her makeup kit from the remains of her desk's drawer.
"Cordelia . . ." Angel began.

"No. It's all right." Buffy headed for the door. Doyle hastened to hold it open for her, earning rolled eyes from Cordelia.

"I gotta go anyway. I really did come down here to visit my father."

She paused, turning back to Angel. "Did I . . .? Did you . . .? Have you read the letter that I wrote?"

"No. I was . . . we were . . . busy."

"Here." Buffy held it out to him. "You can give it back next time."

"Next time?" Cordelia gestured towards the splintered lobby. "You're going to do this again?"

They ignored her.

Angel took the letter. "Thanks."

"I guess I'll see you later then."

"Yeah."

Buffy did not look back again.

When she was gone, Doyle opened his mouth with questions.

"Not now." Angel cut him off. "I'll explain later. Maybe. But not now."

Bewildered, Doyle snapped his mouth shut.

Angel shuffled slowly into his office, closing the door behind him. He sat down at his desk, tenderly removed Buffy's letter from its envelop, propped one foot up on his desktop, and began to read.

"Last night," began the Buffy that he'd erased. "I heard Angel's heart beat."

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