Title: Five Years
Pairing: Buffy/Angel
Rating: R for language
Summary: It's been five years.
Dedication: For Emily.
Note: Actually written for Emily for Secret Valentine at Shippers United.
It's been five years. Five whole years without him. Her heart, her soul, her everything . . . five years since he took it all away. There's been something missing deep inside of her, missing since he walked away. For five years she's tried to fill the space he left. For five years she's failed miserably.
There were men. Parker, Riley, Spike, a few that no one even knew about, men designed to help her forget. She knew they could never fill the space, and she learned quickly that she would never, could never forget. She couldn't forget the passion, the pain, or the love that she used to share with - still felt for . . .
Angel. Her Angel. Her passion, her heart, the one with the power tp build her up and knock her down unlike anyone else. The man she dreamed of still, the man the continued to cry herself to sleep over. He was everything, and even after five years he remained the center of her universe.
The other men, oh how they tried to be her everything. And she tried, she did try to love them. But she could never love them, and she knew it deep inside. She could try to fool them, try to fool herself even. After five years she's quite accustomed to lying.
For five years she's been putting on her fake smile, trying to be strong - for her friends, for her sister, for the world. She even saves the world, often nightly, even though for five years all she's wanted to do is curl up in a ball and cry herself into death. Even when she did die . . . she was brought back. She doesn't blame her friends, they did what they thought was right. And her pain and her loneliness was only made deeper with death and resurrection.
It's been five years. Five goddamn years. Five goddamn too-long years and she's sick of it. She's sick of trying to fill the void and she's sick of pretending to be strong. She's sick of his nobility and she's sick of it all. She's cried way too much in the last five years and she's decided she can't do this anymore.
Her pretty features were worn down, early wrinkles starting to form in the corners of her eyes, the day she finally said, "Fuck it," the words forming on her dry lips but never quite reaching the air.
It was five years before she finally gave in.
It was five years before he finally came back.
And it was five years of pain and saddness and crying and lying all washed away by one kiss. It was messy and passionate and everything she longed for. There was no words, no explanation, just a look that told her he was there to stay and then his lips were on hers. She didn't know why, and she didn't care to ask, it was just - Angel, her Angel, kissing her and she's been waiting five fucking years for this and she wants to savor it.
It was a crush of lips, his hands trailing up her back slowly, her hands all over him, pulling him closer to her, never wanting to let go.
He pulled away softly, still holding her close, holding her head to his chest. He said, nothing, just held her there as she listened to his heart. Buffy closed her eyes, and didn't ask questions . . . she just enjoyed being in the arms of Angel, her Angel, finally.
THE END
Pairing: Buffy/Angel
Rating: R for language
Summary: It's been five years.
Dedication: For Emily.
Note: Actually written for Emily for Secret Valentine at Shippers United.
It's been five years. Five whole years without him. Her heart, her soul, her everything . . . five years since he took it all away. There's been something missing deep inside of her, missing since he walked away. For five years she's tried to fill the space he left. For five years she's failed miserably.
There were men. Parker, Riley, Spike, a few that no one even knew about, men designed to help her forget. She knew they could never fill the space, and she learned quickly that she would never, could never forget. She couldn't forget the passion, the pain, or the love that she used to share with - still felt for . . .
Angel. Her Angel. Her passion, her heart, the one with the power tp build her up and knock her down unlike anyone else. The man she dreamed of still, the man the continued to cry herself to sleep over. He was everything, and even after five years he remained the center of her universe.
The other men, oh how they tried to be her everything. And she tried, she did try to love them. But she could never love them, and she knew it deep inside. She could try to fool them, try to fool herself even. After five years she's quite accustomed to lying.
For five years she's been putting on her fake smile, trying to be strong - for her friends, for her sister, for the world. She even saves the world, often nightly, even though for five years all she's wanted to do is curl up in a ball and cry herself into death. Even when she did die . . . she was brought back. She doesn't blame her friends, they did what they thought was right. And her pain and her loneliness was only made deeper with death and resurrection.
It's been five years. Five goddamn years. Five goddamn too-long years and she's sick of it. She's sick of trying to fill the void and she's sick of pretending to be strong. She's sick of his nobility and she's sick of it all. She's cried way too much in the last five years and she's decided she can't do this anymore.
Her pretty features were worn down, early wrinkles starting to form in the corners of her eyes, the day she finally said, "Fuck it," the words forming on her dry lips but never quite reaching the air.
It was five years before she finally gave in.
It was five years before he finally came back.
And it was five years of pain and saddness and crying and lying all washed away by one kiss. It was messy and passionate and everything she longed for. There was no words, no explanation, just a look that told her he was there to stay and then his lips were on hers. She didn't know why, and she didn't care to ask, it was just - Angel, her Angel, kissing her and she's been waiting five fucking years for this and she wants to savor it.
It was a crush of lips, his hands trailing up her back slowly, her hands all over him, pulling him closer to her, never wanting to let go.
He pulled away softly, still holding her close, holding her head to his chest. He said, nothing, just held her there as she listened to his heart. Buffy closed her eyes, and didn't ask questions . . . she just enjoyed being in the arms of Angel, her Angel, finally.
THE END