Author's Note: This is my take on Buffy & Angel's meeting after Flooded.
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Just Want To Feel
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The chillness of the wind and the firmness of the bench are barely registered as you sit, awaiting his arrival in a place called Oakley Park. You're numb; you haven't been able to feel much of anything these past few days. Your senses are on full alert for signs of an approach. You wonder why you didn't take his feelings into consideration when you decided to sacrifice yourself for Dawn. Because he wasn't there, a voice whispers inside your head. The leaves rustle in one of the trees surrounding you, and as you look up, a familiar figure appears in the distance, making his way toward you, and suddenly you know. If he had been there when the dimensions began to bleed into each other, if you had seen him then, you would have never been able to go through with it.
He stands before you now, more handsome than ever, love and compassion shining from his eyes, and suddenly you feel the need to confess everything, because he's Angel, and he'll know what to say to make you feel better. To make you feel anything, really. You just want to feel.
"Angel…" you whisper, and then his arms are around you, enveloping you, and you realize that you're crying. Not gut wrenching sobs, but silent tears marking tracks down your cheeks. He holds you close and caresses your hair, all the while whispering words of relief and gratefulness. You feel moisture on your head, and you realize that he is crying as well. Together you shed the reminders of the pain you've felt. After a moment, you pull back a little to gaze into his penetrating eyes.
"Thank you," you say, much to his surprise.
"For what?" he queries.
You smile a little, a slight spark returning to your eyes. "For making me feel. I haven't been able to do that since…" You falter, not knowing how to go on.
He smiles a knowing smile, understanding. "Since you've been back."
"Yeah," you mutter, momentarily overcome by a wave of despair. You motion for him to sit with you on the bench. "I need to talk about some stuff, about what happened to me when I died…and I can't talk to my friends about it because it would only hurt them. So I'm really hoping I can tell you."
He nods slightly. "You can tell me anything."
You stare off into the distance, a wistful look on your face. "I was in heaven." You turn to face him, registering the shock molding his features.
"From what Willow told me, I thought…" he begins, but you cut him off.
"That I was in hell?" you say. "Well she was wrong, but thanks to her, I now know what hell feels like because I'm living in it." You lower your gaze, tears pooling in your eyes, threatening to spill. He rests his fingertips under your chin, tilting it upwards to look into your eyes.
"I feel like I've been exiled from heaven," you rasp, emotions bubbling under the surface.
"That could never be true," he reassures, stroking your cheek. "Maybe you were allowed to be sent back because it wasn't your time. Maybe your job isn't finished, maybe you're not finished doing good in this world. Maybe you were meant to be here."
You share a quiet stare. You clear your throat, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. "So you're saying that maybe my purpose isn't fulfilled? Because I like that a lot better than my theory."
He graces you with a radiant smile. Feelings of love and belonging wash over you for the first time in a long while. You sit there for a while, basking in the glow of his affections. At length, he looks up at you, a shadow passing over his angelic face.
"Buffy, when I had heard that you were gone, I felt so…lost. Like I couldn't remember my place in the world anymore. So if ever you feel that way, as if you no longer have a place in this world, just remember that you'll always, and I mean always, have a place with me."
You feel the tears begin to shed again, yet you make no move to stop them. In just half an hour, this man has already managed to overwhelm you with emotion. "Thank you," you utter for the second time during this encounter, but this time you pour your entire soul into the words. "You know that I'll never stop loving you, right? Not even in death, and I know that for a fact now."
"I'll love you forever," he responds, and you know how hard it is for him to speak the words. The word 'love' is synonymous with pain in your relationship, since you can never act on it.
The shrill ring of a cell phone intrudes on your melancholic musings, and you watch as he searches his pocket to answer the culprit, looking sheepish. The call is brief, but from his end of the conversation you can tell it's business-related. He returns the phone to its place in his pocket as he apologizes for the intrusion. He quickly explains the need for his departure, mentioning something about someone in need of rescuing.
"It's okay," you reassure. "I should be going anyway. They'll worry if I stay too long."
He rises from the bench, and in that moment, you no longer care about the reasons why you shouldn't, and you kiss him on the lips, and you don't pull away. The kiss lasts several seconds, until reality deals you a harsh blow, and you stop. He stares into your eyes, understanding, and backs up slowly, never taking his eyes off of you. You both know this is goodbye. You turn around and go your separate ways.
As you walk back in the direction you came, you ponder the difficulties that await you on your return home. You'll have to mask your emotions in front of your friends, because all revealing them will accomplish is hurting them, and all you really want to do is make everyone happy. That is your birthright, isn't it? Pacify the world? You'll have to keep the details of this night to yourself in order to do that. You realize that you'll most likely revert back to being numb once you cross the threshold of Sunnydale. But somehow, you have a feeling that you'll make it through. You know that if you ever find yourself wanting to feel, you'll always have the memory of this night to help you along. You smile inwardly. Besides, Angel's just a phone call away…