Forever- The scene through Angel's eyes.
For a long time he just watched her. Watched her standing so still, looking so lost, yet still so strong. How did she manage that? To remain still the one person in the whole world he could admire, no matter the torment she was going through?
Like now, losing her mother, he couldn't imagine. Well...technically he could, but he hadn't been there, he hadn't seen the body. Hadn't seen Joyce lying so still on the couch.
When he had heard his heart had lurched out of his chest for her. For Buffy. The pain she must have felt, knowing she had just lost the one person who she'd let look after her, the one person to whom she wasn't The Slayer, the protector, and the lover. The one to whom she was just a little child, Buffy Summers. No super hero that saved the world on a regular basis. Just a daughter.
The wind ruffled the edges of her hair, it was falling out, her lovely golden arrangement, and he itched to touch it, to inhale that all too familiar blend of strawberries and sweat. Buffy sweat. Lord, yes he might be damned for it and loose his soul over it, but he even loved her sweat.
A painful sigh escaped his lips and he moved towards her, out of the shadow into the shadow. The shadow that had descended upon his petite lover. She was still his lover. Still his. She belonged to him he thought somewhat selfishly, he couldn't be with her, not like that, but she was still his. Her heart that she had so naively given to him he still held, wrapped within himself, deep down inside where nothing else could reach him his Buffy could. Always she could.
When he had returned from Hell, the hell she sent him to, only her voice, that crystal clear voice, had been able to cut through the pain, the agony. He wasn't human; he wasn't anything worth a damn, why didn't she leave him to perish? But his agony had touched her; he could feel her feeling for him. And then he knew, he knew he could gain strength, he knew he could return to his former self, only because she was there.
She hadn't left him to die. And that night, that night when Pete tried to kill her, what had run through his mind? That someone, something should take her from him before he could tell her all these things? That he should be denied the pleasure of feeling her satin skin one more time?
All that had passed through him as he'd strangled the life from the monster. And then, turning, still as the creature he was inside, he'd looked at her. And she was so utterly beautiful to him he almost couldn't take it, couldn't take staring into such perfection, still untainted, in all her pain, she still contained that inner glow that had made him love her all those years before.
Now as he approached, she didn't turn, didn't stop staring at the fresh soil that six inches under, held the still body of her mother.
He came and stood beside her, his own dark eyes staring down at the earth. At the stone that read "Here lies Joyce Summers. Beloved mother, daughter and friend."
What could he say, what could he do? Nothing. And they both knew it as he took her hand in his own cold grip.
He felt her squeeze his hand, and it was all he needed to hear. Or, as the case was, not hear. She knew. She was thankful, she loved him, and she was hurting.
As they sat, entwined beneath a tree, she told him everything that had happened. In detail, nothing was left out, but what made him worry was the emptiness in her voice. Nothing was there, it was like listening to a robot speak.
He held her, rubbed her arms reassuringly, and listened. He waited till she was finished, and then waited some more, till she stirred in his arms and knew she wanted to hear him talk to her. To say something to ease her suffering, to make all the pain go away somehow.
He couldn't do that, and he knew it, but he would damn well try.
So he reasoned with her doubts, with her blame. It wasn't her fault what had happened to Joyce. It wasn't a beast she could have stopped, no matter how early she had caught it.
SO raw was her pain, was her self confessed neediness, that he almost wanted to tell her he'd stay forever like she wanted. He would have too, had she not known as he did that that would not help her now. It might ease the psychical pain they both contained within each other, but it wouldn't make the death go away.
When she kissed him, he shut his eyes and wanted to tell her no. Please don't. Please don't make me feel such pure bliss when I know I can't have you.
But, like the blood he drank to sustain himself, he had to have her. He had to respond to those trembling lips. Oh, darling, beautiful Buffy…how much I want to love you back. I want to be able to touch you and listen to your cries for me. But we can't. So please…
Gasps pulled from us both as we draw apart, you apologizing, me telling you I'm sorry. I can't believe myself, can't believe I did it again. I hurt you in hurting myself.
And you know it. Your green eyes hold it all in their dazzling orbs. You bravely ask me to go, and I nod slightly, we have to get away from each other. It can't work; this world will bend itself in two to keep us apart.
A few more minutes I can stay with you. The sun is coming up behind the trees, its rays will soon touch your face and I will be long gone before it happens. But for right now I can hold you to me, to enjoy feeling your body beside mine, so close to where I keep your love for me. It's not forever, but this moment will live on for it.