Disclaimer: All characters herein are owned by Joss Whedon and Fox and/or UPN, except any I invent. I use them with grateful thanks and hope I do a good job!

Author: Jacqueline Burns – jay.b@slayme.com – Always appreciated – either post a review or email me!!

Use: Please ask first but as long as you credit it to me and don't steal it, then I can't see a problem!

Setting: Season 6, episode 4. Buffy goes to see Angel…… This was a response to "challenge" fic. I'm not normally a B/A shipper, but this was my response!! Doesn't really contain any spoilers unless you're still on Season 5.

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"It's Angel. He, he wants to see me." Buffy had said, looking at Giles and Dawn. Giles stood near the cabinet, a piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand; Dawnie sat, looking surprised, on the sofa. "I – I have to go."

Giles had nodded. "Yes, of course. And you'll leave for LA first thing?" It had been more of a question than a statement of fact. He'd looked astonished when she'd firmly shaken her head.

"No. Not LA and not in the morning. Someplace – in between. It's arranged, and I – I have to go now." She'd tried a small smile on them and turned and run upstairs, grabbing a few things, throwing them into a bag.

* * * *

Buffy sighed as she thought of the look Giles had given her as she left, and wriggled into a more comfortable position. The bus jerked as the driver ground down through the gears. Yep, she thought, I was really responsible. The house was wrecked, the basement was knee deep in water, and I – I left. Again. But they know I'm coming back and they have to understand. Giles has to understand……

Angel knew she was back and he – he needed her. Needed to know it was really her, not some sick thing that had been pulled back across the dimensions instead. She closed her eyes, lulled by the sensation of the bus, the warmth inside the snug vehicle. As she slipped into sleep, the last face she saw behind her eyes was Angel's, smiling down at her……

* * * *

Angel stood on the edge of the beach, facing out to sea. A strong breeze fingered his long leather coat, flaring it out behind him like wings. Tall and dark, silhouetted against the darkening sky, he stood motionless. The sun was sinking, not yet gone from the world, but its light was dimmed enough not to harm him. Buffy's heart contracted, missed a beat for a moment as she stared at him: then she swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and walked closer.

The noise of the breakers on the shore was almost drowned out by the sound of her heart pounding in her ears as she at last stopped beside him, close enough to feel his coat against her leg as the breeze caught it. He made no sound and didn't look at her – but she felt his hand reach out and gently enclose hers, in a comfortable, secure grip. Together, they stood silent, staring out over the restless, constant motion of the sea, the water darker than ever in the twilight. There was no outburst between them, no tears. Their emotions ran deeper than that and so they were content with silence.

He finally released her hand and turned towards her; she remained still, looking out over the waves, unaware that she was shivering slightly until she felt the weight of the coat as he draped it tenderly over her shoulders. He didn't speak, but she could feel his gaze on her, lingering on her features, memorising the planes and angles of her face.

"It's really you," he said finally, wonderingly. He put his hands gently on her shoulders and turned her so that they stood, eyes locked, about two feet apart. The only physical contact was his hands, but she felt her skin growing warm, her face flushing as they stared at each other again.

"How are you?" he asked softly. "You look - tired."

Lame question, he thought, but where did you begin? Hi, how was it, being dead? Feeling better now? He shook his head slightly in disgust.

She smiled briefly at him and touched the coat, pulling it a little more tightly round her body. "Thanks," she murmured. "And I'm – OK. Not fine, not great – but OK. Dealing, you know?"

He frowned slightly. It was his Buffy alright, but ……… well, death is enough to change everyone. It had certainly changed him. Especially when you're dragged back. He wondered where she'd been, what had happened to her. There was something in her eyes, an expression he'd never seen before. She'd been somewhere, she had to have been, to get that look. There was a part of her that he'd never know, now. He opened his mouth to speak, and hesitated, the words refusing to come.

Buffy saw the question in his eyes, in his face, and laid her finger gently on his lips.

"I know what you're going to ask," she said softly. "You want to know – where I was. If I was in some Hell dimension. What it was like. Don't you? They do, as well. Willow, and, and Xander. They want to know that they did the right thing. That they saved me…" The bitterness in her voice surprised him. She turned away from him again and stared out over the sea, but he knew she didn't see the waves. When she spoke her voice trembled. "I – I've only told one person, what happened to me. The others – they can't know. Ever. It would destroy them – especially Willow, if she knew – what she'd done. To me. She'd never forgive herself."

Angel hesitated then moved behind her and gently wound his arms around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head. He could feel the softness of the golden hair against his skin. "Tell me?" he suggested gently. "Maybe I can – help. Somehow…"

He felt the laugh before it emerged into the night air. "No one can help me," she snapped. "Not unless you want to – to kill me. And even then I don't think it would work." She sighed. "I hate her sometimes – and you can't know how that makes me feel. She thought she was helping me. But I can't help myself. I feel the anger in me, and – and I know I should be grateful that she loves me so much. But still a part of me hates her for what she's done to me. What she took away."

Her voice cracked and she was silent for a moment before she carried on speaking. "I didn't go to Hell. Not like you did. No torture for me, no pain, no forgetting. Even after all the killing I've done." She felt him stiffen slightly at her words, but they carried on, pouring from her, seeking release. "I wasn't me, exactly. But I was – it's hard to explain. I was – warm. And happy. Loved. And I knew that I'd saved my friends, that they were all safe, that the world was safe, and, and, that I didn't have to fight any more. If there is such a place as Heaven, well, they have room for Slayers. I just felt – so right. I was meant to be there. It was like – coming home." Her voice trailed off a little. "No more fighting, no more killing, no more death, and destruction – no more evil…….."

She paused for breath and her next words were bitter, so full of anger that he felt he was listening to a stranger. "And then – Willow. And her magic. She – ripped – me out of that place, where I was meant to be. And brought me back, here. To this world… It's hard, and, full of hate, and, and death – it's Hell. She brought me back to Hell.

"Everything's too bright here, too sharp, too – loud. She got me out of the only place where I've ever been truly happy and brought me right back into Hell. It would kill her if she knew. She thought she was – saving me. Doing the right thing."

An odd laugh bubbled up and she twisted in his arms, looking up into his eyes, but not really seeing him; seeing things that danced through her mind instead. Her voice was harsh, grating.

"Do you know how I felt, waking up in my own coffin? Cutting my hands on the, on the wood, and I couldn't breathe, and I could feel the silk against my hands, and the dark, and then climbing out, and into the night. Blood, everywhere." She tilted her hands up, and he could see the pale white scar lines across her knuckles. " I was alone. And then, then I turned. Saw – my – own – gravestone. Bleeding." She shook in his arms. "And the fire and death – was everywhere. Couldn't see properly, couldn't hear. Things, fighting, killing. And that robot that looked like me, ripped apart, into pieces. Could have been me…… This is Hell. I'm in Hell!"

The first tears she'd shed since coming back slipped down her cheeks and suddenly she was his Buffy again, collapsing against him.

"Oh, Buffy," he said sadly as the tears came faster, flooding over her pale cheeks. He hugged her tightly, pulling her against his body as she sobbed, clutching at him. He didn't speak for a while, until her sobs began to tail off slightly. She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes.

"Hush now," he crooned, stroking her hair with one hand, staring out over her shoulder with the other. "You were loved. You'll always have that. And you, you're safe here, we'll protect you. Help you. You're safe, we love you. Never forget that. Willow loves you - loves you enough to risk death for you. Even Anya loves you." He smiled as she hiccuped, a slightly watery laugh escaping her at that. "And I love you, even though we – can't be together. Don't ever forget that. I will always love you. Hush, now…"

He rocked her gently as darkness fell, knowing that not far in the future, they would part; she back to her life in Sunnydale and he back to LA, both continuing the "good fight" in their own ways.

But for now, there was this moment, between them. It would be enough.