A/N: Everyone who ever loved Buffy knew they didn't deserve her love, and could never get it. Here are a series of one-shots giving the moments I imagine them realizing it. Yes, I do realize some of them didn't really give up at these points, but just because you know something, doesn't mean you act on it. Please R & R.

-~-~-~-~-~- SPIKE -~-~-~-~-~-

He lay there, still and silent as he felt her drift away to sleep at his side. She was uneasy, everything that was about to happen, the whole world about to unfold before them, poised to change forever, or end.

His arm rested around her waist, propped there, gently holding her near him. Her body moved, softly, as she slept. Movements most would hardly notice, but he couldn't help but feel with every inch of his being. The gentle breath that caused her whole torso to rise and fall to meet his arm and dangling hand, the beating chest that subtly pulsed through her entire body sounded like a drum in his ears. A beat that was normally quick, far faster than most, seemed immensely slow now, now that peace had finally taken her worries away.

The warmth that radiated from her skin was so strong he would not have been surprised had it burned his own cool flesh, but instead it left it feeling, if only for a moment, as though there were some life in it as well.

As he felt the motions that gave her life beside him, he could barely stand to think of the contrast of his own still body. It was a wonder that he was even there, really. While she seemed to glow with a heat, beat with a pulse, and rise and fall with gentle breath, he was still and stoney at her side. There was no motion at all to him, he was hardly different from the furniture that surrounded them in the dark cold basement.

He moved slightly, flinching his muscles, as if simply to remind himself he could. That he was real, in some way, that he was almost alive. But as he did so, Buffy squirmed in her sleep, pulling the blankets more tightly around her for warmth from the cool night air. And as she did so, he couldn't help but let out a sigh. He couldn't even keep her warm, here at her side, he'd never be able to.

Moments passed, and the night moved onward, unnoticed by him. All he could do was stare at the blond hair that lay haphazardly on his pillow, and watch the back of her head as she slept. Gradually he began to realize what Angel had always warned him of. She could never be with them.

She was here, full of life, full of energy, breath, blood, and heat. But he was death personified, a walking, talking, (occasionally shagging), corpse. She deserved more, and better. But, here she was, laying at his side, after having kissed a similar corpse mere hours prior.

Perhaps she was attracted to the impermanence, to the certainty of failure. It had always been her way, never getting into anything that was apt to last, never letting herself really commit to something permanent. She was always too sure she was doomed, that she would die, again, and soon. Or that, if she let herself truly get attached, to believe in permanence, whatever it was would be snatched away from her.

She had her reasons, and he knew most of them. Of anyone in the world, he probably knew Buffy Summers the best. And yet, she'd never admit it, or even let the thought cross her mind. She mumbled something in her sleep, garbled words, no doubt, from some unspeakable dream. He leaned forward, slightly, careful not to disturb her with his motion, and kissed her shoulder gently.

There was a tiny flinch on her skin as he did so, and he felt the gentle fuzz of her skin lift to caress his lips as he pulled back. Soon though, her sleeping calmed, and her breath grew even once more. All the worry in the world haunted her all day, but every so often at night, she got her peace.

Even if she refused to see it, he knew they could never last. He knew that she could never love him, not really, not wholly. And he knew that was what she deserved, and he resolved himself, despite every pulsating instinct, to let her have better. He resolved himself to let her, if they survived this, have a true life. Even if that meant they could never be.

-~-~-~-~-~- ANGEL -~-~-~-~-~-

She was smart, she always had been, and he'd known it, on some level, since the first time he'd seen her. She was brilliant, and beautiful, and perfect, and he couldn't have her. It was all so clear now, so damn clear that he wanted to scream or cry or do something to fight it. But there was nothing to fight, they'd both learned by now, a million times over, that some bits of destiny, just can't be toyed with. And a part of him, though he hated to admit it, knew this was one of those times.

The look in her eyes when she'd left, it'd nearly killed him. Northwestern though, she'd have a real life there. She had a future, and she was the first slayer in a very long line that had had that option, that choice. She'd lived through death, and now she had alternatives. Who was he to take them from her?

After she'd left, his lips quivered as he sunk into his couch, tossing his head back to stare blankly at the ceiling, lost in thought. She could go to college, find a nice guy, get a great job, get married, have kids, live a real normal life. The life she'd always envied, dreamed of. He'd seen it, and heard it, many times from her. The desperate pleas for normalcy, for youth, and hope, and livelihood. But there'd always been something in the way. Something she'd always grown to resent.

He couldn't become that thing. He couldn't hold her back, he loved her far too much for that.

She said she loved him, and most of the time, well, she acted the part. She was full of passion, near bursting at times, he knew that much. Yet a part of him, sitting here, had to admit, that this love, what she was feeling, it wasn't real. And even if she couldn't see it, couldn't admit it, he had to. After all, the love he felt was real.

She was eighteen, still a child by comparison to Angel, too young to really even understand what love was. And he couldn't help but realize he'd been her first long term boyfriend. Sure, it could happen, love at that age, with that little experience, with that much innocence, he'd seen it before. Hell, when he was young, when he was alive, he saw it all the time, marriages far younger than eighteen, but this wasn't then, and their situations were anything but typical.

She needed love, reality, a grown up feeling, because she had more responsibility than most adults could ever imagine. Yet, she wasn't really ready for it, her naivety was striking, her innocence and purity so very clear on her youthful features, that he just couldn't deny it any longer. She had her whole life ahead of her, and she wanted to throw it all away, she wanted to hand him her eternity, without even realizing, she wasn't in love.

The very thought caused his lips to purse, and eyes to slam shut in anguish. He would never say the words aloud, not if he could help it, but he knew them, and they wouldn't leave his brain now that they'd been thought.

She was eighteen, drunk with youth, and struck dumb as a result. He had to be the mature one, the one who was willing to see the truth. After all, he was over two centuries old now, far too old to be naive.

The resolution stung his still heart more than he cared to admit, it seemed to burn him more than sunlight and holy water ever could. He loved her, unconditionally, he wanted to spend eternity at her side, loving her, protecting her, but it wasn't meant to be. He could live without ever having true happiness, but he couldn't deny it to her. He couldn't let her stay with him, never to experience true, mature love. He was an infatuation, and obsession, and he knew it. So even if it'd kill him, or leave him to centuries more of brooding alone, he had to let her go, let her feel love, and joy. He had to let her live, one of them deserved to.

-~-~-~-~-~- RILEY -~-~-~-~-~-

The bar was disgusting, and the clientele even more repulsive, yet here he was. He supposed a part of him wanted to feel disgusted, out of place, and this was the perfect place to go for just such a thing. He sat down gruffly at the bar and asked the bartender, Willy, for a drink. It came quickly enough and he began to tip it back, letting the liquid singe his throat as it trickled downward.

Today had just been too much for him, but what day with Buffy wasn't. Everything with her was more intense, more passionate than he'd ever felt before in all his life. He loved her, it was like she was the air he breathed, but that didn't' make it easy. Sometimes, it meant he was left to suffocate, alone.

First her mom had had to go to the hospital, and had been worse than before, but she hand't even thought to call him, no contact whatsoever. Instead, she'd confided her fears, her concerns in Spike of all people, or non-people, frankly. Spike, the same hostile seventeen that she'd hidden from him and the initiative, the same vampire that had told him just that day that he was more her type, because he was more dangerous.

Then again, Dawn's words were ringing in his ears too, perhaps Spike had, on some deeply twisted level, been right. Angel had been dark, evil even at times, and yet she'd loved him, fought with him, gotten all worked up over him. She never seemed to even flinch when they fought, it was like she was somewhere else, hidden from him, numb to their relationship as a whole. She would never get that passionate with him, and on some level, he had to acknowledge that.

She didn't let him in, and she probably never would. Even when they were together, in the strongest sense of the word, she was elsewhere. He could hardly tell, but there were moments, when the light would twinkle in her eyes, and they'd be distant. And there were times, when they'd sit together in silence, and while all he could think about was her, he saw other troubles passing through her mind. Maybe even other men.

It wasn't that she didn't say she loved him, or gave him any concrete reason to doubt her words. There was just something about how she carried herself. She was distant, separate. He'd been dismissing it for months, certain that it was nothing more than her just being a slayer. The responsibility, it was enough to deal with that he was sure it justified the distance. After all, he'd been distant before, when she hadn't known about his job. Yet, they were supposed to be past this by now, they were supposed to be open, he'd just come to believe she couldn't be.

But here he was, sitting at a bar, with the words of people who knew her well, who'd known her longer, guaranteeing him that once, once upon a time, she'd been open, truly vulnerable. There was a closeness he'd never have, she'd never love him. The words stung even as he thought them, and he tipped his glass back all the way, trying to wash them away. But the words remained, burned into his mind, and there was nothing he could do to dissuade them.

She deserved love, and happiness, and a fulfilled life, and he knew that if she'd let him, he could be that for her. He could be strong, and open, and love her unconditionally. But she'd never let him. She'd never love him back. Still though, he was far too enthralled to leave. His options were gone, and he was left, suffocating, as always. But she needed him now, and he'd be there for her, even when she didn't want him, or wouldn't have him. What else could he do, he was in love.

It was just then that a vampire sat down near him. Sandy. Well, that was that then, he was in love, and no matter how much she needed him, she'd never really NEED him. But, maybe somebody could.

-~-~-~-~-~- XANDER -~-~-~-~-~-

Buffy had been especially strange that day. Sure, she'd died, and Xander understood that that could probably screw with a person pretty severely, but still, the way she'd been, it was, well, intense. And no one had felt it to quite the extent Xander had, except maybe Angel from his lurking broody shadows, but frankly, Xander couldn't have cared less about how Angel felt about anything at all.

Just a night before she'd been all over him. Dancing with such a distinct purpose he had almost felt hope between them, as though a spark could just maybe catch. He'd always hoped, held on every last word, searching for double meanings, or secret intentions, and for the first time, she'd given him real reason. Sure, a part of him had known it was false, that it was just some scheme to make Angel jealous, or make herself feel alive, or, well, honestly, he had no idea how Buff's mind worked. She was more than a little out there, just one of the many reason's he loved her. Well, besides the fact she was ridiculously hot, actually talked to her, was super strong, and had the coolest extracurricular ever. Hey, he was a teenage boy, it wasn't like he could really look past stuff like that.

But the past day, she'd been so damn frustrating! She'd danced on him, given him hope, than walked off like it had been nothing at all. Then she'd risked everyone. She'd been cold, and distant, and put all the people she supposedly cared about in grave danger. Only to then go crazy, and crush bones to dust repetitively until they resembled baby powder. Something was seriously demented with that girl!

And yet, the squirming in the back of his stomach, he knew what it meant, he was in love with her. He was crazy, madly, in love with Buffy Summers. She probably didn't even know. He'd saved her from death, and she probably didn't even realize he loved her. Or, if she did, she was doing her very best to ignore it entirely, and just pretend there was nothing there. The second was probably more likely, but hurt just a tiny bit more, so he ignored it, as he came home, hurrying past his passed out mother on the couch, down into his bed in the basement.

He laid down on the bed and gazed at the ceiling for a minute, too tired from the day's events to bother changing, or cleaning himself up from everything that'd occurred. She'd never love him. He saw the way she looked at Angel, they way they were with one another, and the way she barely even seemed to notice that he existed most of the time. It wasn't a secret, after all, they were a couple.

If Angel weren't such an obvious bad choice, he would have felt guilty for still being in love with her, with another man's girlfriend. But Angel was just so very wrong for everything. He was a vampire for god sakes! Shouldn't' she just stake him, and be done with it? They fought, and argued, and he would brood, and barely even interact with her. Yet, whenever he was there, she swooned, like he was some sort of celebrity or something! Plus, he was hundreds of years old, how was that not creepy?

But somehow, the mature, handsome, dark and mysterious man got the girl. So, it wasn't exactly a surprise, a cliche perhaps, but not a surprise. He knew Buffy would never love him. No, Xander was far too goofy, awkward, and certainly anything but mysterious. He was an open book, young and immature, and he didn't have the luxury of centuries of life and a mysterious past. He had nothing to offer her, and he knew it. She was out of his league, way out of it. But still, he couldn't keep himself from loving her, from hating her boyfriend. It was only natural.

A part of him knew though, he had to let her go. She drove him crazy, and she'd continue to do so, unintentionally even. She'd use him, and treat him like crap, and not even notice, because she didn't see him, not really. They were friends, good friends, and maybe, someday, that love would be enough. He hoped so, considering that was all he'd ever get.

Before you ask, I realize there were other characters who loved Buffy, but these were the main ones. Satsu (from season 8) I choose not to count, since I for the most part have not read season 8, and struggle to really view it as canon, despite any 'official' rulings. The Immortal may or may not have even dated her, and we have no idea how they felt about each other. And Robin Wood, Ben, Parker, Scott, Owen, etc were not in love with Buffy, so they don't' count here.

For additional context - Episodes:

Spike - Season 7 - Chosen - After they agree she should spend the night

Angel - Season 3 - Lover's Walk - After Angel suggests Buffy go elsewhere for college

Riley - Season 5 - Shadow - Before the scene with him at Willy's

Xander - Season 2 - When She Was Bad - The night after Buffy grinds all the bones to dust

As I said before, please R & R - all opinions are appreciated! :)