Author's Note: Oh wow, thank you all for the tremendous feedback, story alerts, etc, etc! I originally was gonna have the second chapter be posted as the final for this, but after reading a review, I decided to end it with an epilogue. I hope it satisfies and leaves a decent ending. If not, let me know! All feedback and reviews are greatly appreciated as always. Enjoy!

Epilogue

Five years later…

I hadn't seen Angel again since that very night. Nor had I ever received another call or text from him. After when I ended the relationship, we quietly went our separate ways, never again speaking to one another. It was as if we hadn't existed together; our memories ceasing to exist. Over a long amount of time, some of them had faded, becoming nothing more than a foray of blurry images, and that was what I had wanted. What I had hoped for. To not remember everything.

But I forced myself to deal with it all by eventually learning to move on emotionally rather than physically, and by also confronting my troubled emotions to a certified therapist who had assisted me every step of the way. She was a godsend.

That was almost three years ago to the day.

Nowadays, I was more happy and carefree than I had ever been, despite being divorced just recently from an ex who had wanted nothing to do with our two year old daughter, who was the most beautiful thing in the world to me. I currently operated a successful makeup and salon business that would soon be expanding, while working my way towards the top in order to support my then six month old child after the initial court proceedings.

Being single wasn't as horrible as other people had perceived. It was what I had desperately needed; to contemplate on becoming a better person and to deal with my past problems and moving on forward before involving myself with another. Sometimes, you have to step back and decide what course of action to take before jumping into the frying pan.

It was a blessing, and so was my daughter, whom I had named Hope. She had her father's dark hair and eyes, but she had my smile, my wit, and my personality. I flashed her a grin as she went on playing duck, duck, goose with the other kids her age, pigtails flying behind her.

As I sat on the bench in quiet wonder, my eyes widened in surprise at the arrival of a familiar man getting out from the driver seat of a white SUV in the parking lot. I clasped my hand to my mouth, narrowing my eyes against the bright sun.

No, it couldn't be? Could it?

I couldn't believe it. After all this time…

It was Angel. And he wasn't alone. Escorting beside him was a little boy about three years old, and his features were simply his. I knew instinctively that the boy was Angel's son. He was a mini doppelganger version of the man I had once loved.

I was beyond astonished.

Even for a father, Angel still looked exactly as he did five years old: tall, dark, charismatic, and extremely handsome. He appeared incredible for his age; so much so that almost every female mother with a child latched to their hip were gawking at him with unbinding desire.

He didn't notice me at first. He didn't notice that my hair had now grown past my shoulders, in tight blond ringlets, or that my eyes had finally escaped the sullen appearance that had developed in the second year of our relationship. Then, he caught my peering eyes with his chocolate orbs, his mouth dropping in sudden shock as he approached me, the same way he had approached me the first moment love had intercepted.

"Buffy? Is that really you?" He exclaimed, perching carefully on the other side of the bench I was occupying, his eyes never leaving mine. I flashed him a grin, realizing that my heart had started picking up speed at the unexpected reappearance into my life.

"Yeah, it's me. You look…the same," I quipped, struggling to keep a fit of laughter from exploding. He snorted. "You do too, except your hair is longer…and you look happier," his voice took on a regretful tone, and we both fell into an impeccable silence.

I decided to break the ice. "You don't have to say anything," I started, not realizing that I placed my hand on top of his to comfort him. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and I shivered inwardly. "But I have to. For everything that I've done to you, and to us. I really am sorry…for not seeing what my career was doing to us a long time ago."

This time, I detected sincere remorse in his eyes. Nothing that was not genuine. Something was different this time. I wondered to myself at what was the direct cause of it. I didn't raise my hopes just yet. "What changed?"

"My wife filed divorce papers; she felt that I was spending too much time at my job and not enough with her. And then, we had our son. That pretty much changed everything. It made me realize not to take everything for granted anymore."

"Daddy, can I go play with the other kids?" Angel's son was tugging on his sleeve impatiently, interrupting the conversation, but was producing a handsome smile that matched his father's. He was going to be a heartbreaker someday. I couldn't help but throw him a grin of my own.

"Sure, but be careful," Angel insisted, and off the little version of him went with enthusiasm.

"I'm sorry," I began, but he furiously shook his head. "Don't be. I learned my lesson, even if it took years for it to open my eyes and not be so stupid anymore. I didn't think I'd find you here after what happen years ago," he confessed with a soft mumble that no one but myself could hear. He took me utterly by surprise by a question he suddenly asked.

"Do you hate me?"

The question took my breath away. Did I hate him after all he had put both myself and him through? I pondered for a moment, realizing my answer.

"No, Angel, I don't hate you. I forgive you," I insisted, and the last weight of my shoulders was lifted, and it was then that I felt a true sense of relief. It felt more than right. I didn't hate him anymore. I was willing to start over and write a new chapter in my life. "Why?" he asked, out of curiosity.

"Because it takes more strength to forgive someone, rather than carry the burden of hate for the rest of their life. I'm willing to move on. And I missed you."

"I missed you too. I really did. I don't want to make the same mistake again. I'm more than willing to start fresh, if you are. Are you willing to give us a second chance?" Another difficult question that I had to endure. Was I willing to give him that chance, even if the risk of being hurt again twice was there?

Instead of answering with words, I answered by scooting closer to him, my chest and hips facing his, while intertwining my fingers with his. I felt his cool breath on mine, tickling across my skin as our lips touched gently.

One word was the only one that needed to be said to secure the potential bond.

"Yes."

Fin.