Angel arrives at the rest stop and gets out of his car. Buffy is already there and leaning against a park bench, her back to the lot. He stands and stares for what feels like eons, drinking in the sight of her. She'd been dead for 3 agonizing months and it had been months before that, when he'd seen her last. And after all that time, he still isn't over being away from her. Still can't believe that she'd come back from the dead. She looks the same as she always has and yet he can sense a change in her. He can smell her fear. And wants more than anything to ease it all away. To smooth the lines of sorrow written plainly on her face. He walks forward, slowly as not to frighten her further. But the slowness is killing him. Every muscle in his body twitching to run and sweep her away.
"Um ….. Buffy?"
She turns, startled out of deep thought, "Oh… um…..hey." She smiles uncertainly
He moves toward her but she stays where she is, not sure where to look or where to put her hands.
He stops, seeing that she is still scared, hesitant.
"Buffy, you're…." His voice is dripping with awe and elation.
"Pretty good looking for a corpse right?" A bad joke, she's uncomfortable, trying to lighten a situation that has no light side.
"…You're…..Alive!" He's frantic, wringing his hands, moving toward her, looking for something he can fix. "Are you ok? Are you hurt? I thought……."
She is stoic. Unsure. Still. Quiet. Looking down.
He is doing his best to be calm but he is filled with anxiety. "Buffy, you were ….. Gone." He is looking her up and down, still moving forward, though slower now. He's using every ounce of control he has to keep from reaching out for her.
She does her best to answer him without meeting his eyes. "I was. And I'm fine…well …fine as in not bleeding - for a change." Another stupid joke, trying to snap the wire of tension between them. It's useless.
"And now you're…….." Before he can talk himself out of it, he rushes forward and pulls her into his arms, crushing her body against his, pressing his lips to hers to quiet her certain protest before even one word can escape her lips.
Despite her better judgment she kisses him back. Their lips moving together in perfect synchronization. And though she tries to be cautious, to keep a wall up around her, long dormant memories come surging back as if a dam has been broken. Memories of their bodies pressed together in hope, in urgency, in passion, in love.
His hands aren't warm but she can feel the fire that remains as they move up and down the length of her body. Her hands are holding his face, unsure of whether to push him away or pull him even closer.
And she remembers this from before. The ecstasy that existed every time they touched. The storm that the taste of him always triggered in her mind, in her heart.
And he remembers this from a time she knows nothing of. His last memories of her lips on his, of their bodies pressed together are his alone.
And their combined memories create an abyss that together, they fall into.
Until…
They remember.
All of the memories are not good ones.
They part as if they remember the same things at the same time.
The reasons. The reasons that made so much sense before.
He lets her down slowly and steps back, just a small step, keeping her hands tight in his own. "I'm sorry. For that. You were…. I'm sorry Buffy…………………. I was…."
She wriggles her hands free and steps back, looking away.
He tries to reach out, reassuring, but she evades his grasp.
"That………um…………was……………not…" She's gasping for air, her head spinning from the fervor of his kiss and the cold she feels outside of his arms.
"I know… ……………I……………..and…………it's just that ………………" He looks at her like she may disappear right before his eyes.
She feels confused. Torn. Removed. "I know." She is still slightly out of breath but needs to make her point. "…….. It's …… fine….I'm….ok ………….and…………..fine………………..And… I'm fine."
He can't keep himself from looking over every inch of her. To make sure she's really there.
She steps back, working to move further away from him but trying her best to meet his eyes. She wants to be strong. To be a force. "But nothing has changed." She can't do it, she glances away. "I mean, it has, at the most changey of levels, but, …."
This is too hard. She can't possibly begin to tell him…. Where she was, what she went through. She can say it out loud. She has said it out loud. But she can't tell him. That would make it real. Telling him would allow her to give into what she really wants, to take comfort, to fall into him.
And though she wants it more than anything, it cannot be.
He can feel the grief and misery flowing from every pore in her body. And he feels helpless to stop it.
She continues to shy away, knowing that if she meets his eyes even once, her fight is over.
He's confused, overwhelmed. He knows that it can't… he only wants … just to ….. He tries to make eye contact, just as she turns further away.
He can't take it anymore. He yanks her arm, pulling her back around, so that she has no choice but to face him.
"Us ………………..we…………….. I get it. I know." His gaze is so intense she can feel it through her lowered lids. "But Buffy …. You….you have to……..I need……"
He's almost yelling now. Not in anger but in frustration. The intensity of his feelings revealed in every word. "I said I was sorry before but I'm not. You were dead Buffy and I can't imagine how difficult all of this has been for you. But I need you to know how I feel. About you. About this. I need you to know that it was hard for …."
She interrupts him before he can go any further. Before he can make this situation any more difficult. "Angel I know. I know all of the good. All of the bad. And when I'm with you I feel…….Like it could all be different. But it's not. This. You. .. I can't …. We ….." Against her better judgment, she looks up and her eyes meet his.
It's a mistake, they both know it.
He pulls her against his chest and she forgets to fight as her lips meet his once again. And here in his vice like grip, it feels like home, so warm and comfortable, an easy fit. She wraps her arms around him and moves in closer.
The hunger that she felt before, that he felt before, is nothing compared to this.
The heat radiates until it's burning them both and yet they cannot separate.
His hand moves into her hair, holding her mouth firmly against his. But the hold is unnecessary. She is holding onto him just as tightly as their lips move together. And it's as if they had never stopped kissing so many years ago.
Their bodies mold into each other, another perfect fit. Neither one able to create an intelligible thought outside of their longing for each other. The need they can taste on the tips of each other's tongues is torture as they become desperate, realizing that they cannot get any closer without breaking all of the rules. And as the desperation grows, so does the anxiety, both of them knowing …..
Again they break, breathless and confused, both saying nothing, both staring at the ground. Feeling nothing but the huge void left behind.
After endless minutes of awkward silence he looks up at her.
"You know Buffy, if you wanted, I could come. To Sunnydale. For as long as you wanted. We could talk. I could help. Or you could come to LA. Take a break." He is hopeful and letting his deep desire to shelter and protect her rise to the surface.
She's able to meet his eyes in short nervous glances. Hoping with futility that he can't tell she's still shaking.
"Thanks. I know you just want…but it's not. It's not a good idea. My life is all Rubik's right now and you're just another puzzle. No offence. I just have a lot I need to figure out without adding you to the mess. I have no idea where I am going or what I am doing. And there is Dawn to think about. And when you're around. Well ………..I just. I need time."
The rejection, though he guessed it was coming, feels like a sword to the gut. All over again. But he doesn't want to add guilt to her already long list of hopeless emotions. "You know how much I love you Buffy. For me… That's never gonna change. Whatever you want. Whenever….. You just have to ask. I mean…..I'll do……anything."
"I know. And I do…..want I mean…it's just…. right now. I don't …..I don't know anything. ……..I do know……. I can't ……." She shakes her head as if doing so can shake away the nightmare that is her current situation.
"I get it. It's ok. I understand." He concentrates his eyes on a flaw in the concrete at his feet, the pain he is feeling etched deep in his face. He speaks without looking up at her. "Do you have to go back? I mean right away? Right now?"
"I really….. I should…." She's rolling a rock around under her shoe, apprehensive about why he's asking.
"Can we just sit? For a little while? I won't…….." There is a long pause and he is nervous that she will say no and run away from him as quickly as she can.
And she knows that's exactly what she should do. She knew when the call came in that this day would be difficult but she could not have come close to guessing how many impossible emotions she would have to deal with in such a small amount of time. And yet she's not ready just yet to let it all go. After being this near to him the thought of being away is almost unbearable.
"Um. I guess. Sure. For a little while."
And for hours they sit. Holding hands. Not talking. Both wanting so much more than is ever possible. Occasionally stealing glances at one another, making the inevitable split that much harder.
Eventually she pulls her hand from his and it instantly feels like ice.
"I should go. I don't want to….but I should go." She knows it's time. If she waits any longer she'll never leave.
"I know."
"And you'll ……"
He looks up to see that her stare is both pleading and apologetic.
"Always."
He does his best to keep the hope out of his eyes and his tone and leans down to kiss the top of her head. Fighting urges to hold on to her and never let go.
As she takes an awkward step backward, she gives him one small smile and sees just a glimpse of his in return before she turns and walks away.
He stands still in the darkness, watching her until she is out of the parking lot and miles down the road. And finally he himself turns to leave.