After spending approximately three hours crying my heart out, I suddenly find myself to surprisingly calm – resigned, I suppose. It's like I've reached that point beyond hope, beyond unfairness or anger at the world, beyond soul-wrenching pain, where all I can do is give in and wander around with haunted eyes, a ghost of my former self. Then just as I think I've shed all the tears that are in me, that I've come to terms with the situation and accepted the crushing despair…then it hits me.

Angel. I will have to talk to him, have to tell him I can never see him again, have to forcibly sever the connection between us that seemed suddenly to be stronger than ever. What am I going to say? What can I say? How can I possibly look into his beautiful face, and his loving gaze and then leave both forever? But I won't get that option to, will I? Riley will never let me go back to Sunnydale, not now. I'll have to phone or write – I won't even have the option of breaking both our hearts in person.

I remember all too vividly when Angel did this to me, when he called off our relationship. There were different reasons, of course, but the basis was the same. It is impossible for us to be together. I hate destiny and fate and whoever or whatever is up there controlling us all. How much more suffering can They possibly visit upon Angel and I? How much more crap can They dole out? We have both given our lives (on some occasions literally) to fighting their battles and how do They repay us? By taking every opportunity They can to make us miserable. All I ask, all I ever wanted, was a chance to be with the man I love. I do (or did, for now I know I never will again) the Slaying gig for free and at considerable cost and great danger to myself. I forewent my teenage years, gave them up in favour of the greater good. I sent my lover to Hell to save the world. I even died, goddamn it, and in reward I get nothing but more pain and suffering.

And now I don't care anymore. What's the point in being good and righteous and just if you're only going to get screwed in return? You may as well be evil and enjoy the advantages while they last. Make a pact with the devil – he has better benefits. If Angel were here right now, right this instant, I'd jump him and say fuck the consequences. Fuck Angelus too – and why not, as long as I can get my thrills along the way.

But no, I don't feel like that, really I don't. I little part of me thinks I should, though. A little part of me is filled with blind, seething rage at the world for repeatedly taking every tiny bit of happiness I ever had away. And I hold on to that part, relish any emotion other than painful emptiness, because it means I'm not dead inside. Well, not yet, anyway.

Several days pass and I don't get an opportunity to call Angel. Riley doesn't leave me alone anymore. When he's at work, he sends his interfering mother round to watch me. The total invasion of privacy feels like claustrophobia, like there are people around me all the time, watching me, crowding me, suffocating me. I can't breathe. I can't breathe – they took my oxygen away…

One evening, Riley is in the shower and I grab the opportunity while I can, dialling Angel's number with shaking hands. He answers; his voice rich, smooth and melodic, and my already cracked heart shatters into a million more pieces.

"Buffy?" He asks when I don't say anything, somehow sensing my presence even down the phone line.

"Angel," I choke out, sobbing already. One word from him and I am crying. Crying torrents of tears that I don't ever think will stop – at least not in my soul they won't.

"What's wrong?" His tone shifts rapidly from idly concerned to frantic with worry. "Did something happen? Are you okay? Buffy – speak to me!"

"I-I…" a hiccup bubbles up through my sobs. "Riley – he knows."

Angel sighs heavily, the sound amplified by the telephone and roaring in my ears. "Oh. Is everything…uh, what did he say?"

I shake my head, even though I know Angel can't see it, an involuntary denial of the events of the past few days. "I'm so, so sorry," I whisper.

"You're sorry?" Confusion tinges his voice. "What for? Buffy, what's going on there?"

"I can't…we can't… Oh, God Angel – "

"Riley didn't react well, I take it," he interrupts my tearful babble, sounding suddenly detached and very, very far away. It's like he knows what's coming and wants to protect himself from it, wants to switch off all his emotions and be stoic guy in the wake of my complete breakdown.

"He made me promise – that I'd stop seeing you or he'd take Caleb away. I didn't want to, but he made me. He forced me to choose. I'm sorry. He was going to take my son away from me! And I couldn't, I couldn't…"

"It's okay," Angel soothes me gently. "Shush, it's all right. I understand. You made the right choice. I understand."

"I love you, I only ever loved you…"

"I love you too."

I hear the water turn off and Riley start to move about the bedroom. "I-I have to go," I tell Angel desperately. "Or Riley'll hear me. Oh, God, I want to kiss you one last time."

"Pretend you are," he answers, his own calm composure starting to crack a little. "Close your eyes and imagine it."

"Will you do the same?"

"Yes."

I squeeze my eyes shut and I can almost feel him, his still body looming over mine, his cool skin brushing up against me. His lips touch mine and I gasp, tasting him sweet and fresh. Like moonlight. Like summer rain. His hands tangle in my hair and I forget to breathe, forget everything but him. Then he pulls away, leaving me bereft, craving more, missing his touch already. If we could kiss for eternity it wouldn't be long enough.

"How was it?" He asks, sounding a little breathless himself, even despite not needing the air.

"Unbelievable." I murmur back.

"Buffy!" Riley shouts from upstairs. "Do you know where my new blue shirt is?"

Reality comes crashing back down on me. I am not kissing my lover, but instead saying a final goodbye to him. "I love you," I tell Angel down the phone.

"You said that already."

"I just wanted to make sure you knew."

"I know," he answers in a sombre tone. "Buffy, shouldn't you…"

"Go," I finish his sentence. "Yeah, I probably should."

Footsteps fall on the stairs and I drop the receiver guiltily back into it's cradle, making a silent promise as I do so. I'll never stop loving you. I'll never forget…

"Buffy? My shirt?" Riley's voice comes from the doorway.

I keep my face turned away from him so that he won't see my tear tracks and bloodshot eyes. "Uh, it's in the laundry. I ironed it for you this morning."

He turns to go and then pauses. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," I answer, trying to force a measure of cheerfulness into my voice. "Everything's fine. Why on earth shouldn't it be?"

~~~

Monotonous days stretch into endless nights spent curled up in shivering ball by Riley's side. I can't get warm. I lie wrapped in three blankets, the heater on full blast, and still the cold is too much for me. While Riley strips to his boxer shorts and climbs out from underneath the sheets, his skin weeping sweat, I feel like my whole body has frozen, my heart turned to ice.

The nights are the worst, they're when I miss him the most, when it feels the most real. During the day I am like a robot, automatically going through the motions of life. Care for Caleb, clean the house, do the shopping and the cleaning and the washing and whatever little jobs I can find to occupy my mind and keep the denial alive. Then I can convince myself that Angel and I aren't over, that I'm just waiting for a phone call or a letter or a stolen weekend. But at night, when the moon shines high in the sky and the breeze whispers his name, then I know I'm truly alone.

One evening I am in the midst of washing the dinner plates, slipping easily into the rhythmic routine. Dip in the water, wipe with the sponge, dip again, wipe again, next dish… When the phone interrupts me with its jarring ring. Riley rushes to answer it – he always does now. Partly, I suppose, because he doesn't trust me and he fears it will be Angel, partly because the call is likely to be for him anyway. The only person who ever phones me anymore is Mom, and that's once a week on a Sunday. Today is Tuesday, so I ignore the sound, concentrating instead on the soap bubbles before me. Such pretty colours, the way the light is split into its spectrum. I wonder why it does that…

"Buffy!" Riley calls. "It's for you. Willow."

Surprised, I take the phone off him silently, our eyes meeting in a wordless glare until he takes the hint and leaves the room. Lifting the receiver to my ear I speak into it quietly.

"Hi, Will."

"Buffy!" She greets me enthusiastically. "I've got some great news. Well, not great in the strictest sense, because it could result in hurting a lot of people, which would definitely not be of the good. And I'm not sure how ethical it is to be doing this exactly – but I think we've both built up a fair amount of positive karma from the whole demon slaying/saving the world multiple times over thing, so I guess we can bend the rules a little here. And I think I should shut up now. So, summary: news to be told." She pauses for breath. "Buffy are you there?"

"Yeah, sorry, Willow," I answer distractedly. "So, what's the big scoop then?"

"Well, I looked into Angel's curse, like you guys asked me to – and I found a way of fixing the loophole. It's incredibly easy really – when you know what you're doing, of course, I wouldn't exactly recommend just going around randomly messing with soul restoration spells – but a few simple Latin incantations and Angel can have as many happies as he likes. But not too many, obviously," she adds hurriedly. "And only with you."

She stops, awaiting an answer, which I struggle to provide while simultaneously trying to deal with the yawning chasm that has opened up in my heart once more. Talk about ironic, Angel and I are separated forever and suddenly the curse becomes a non-issue. Willow's words echo through my head. Angel can have as many happies as he likes. What if he moves on, finds somebody else? What if he forgets me?

"I, uh, thanks," I mumble, my voice thick in my throat.

"Buffy?" Willow asks in concern. "Are you okay? This is good news, right?"

"Riley…" I whisper.

"Yeah, I feel bad about that too," she replies. "It's not fair on him. But when you love someone that much there's no right and wrong – you just have to follow your heart."

I groan audible in response. That is exactly how I feel – how I felt. That my love for Angel eclipsed all my other moral obligations and if I was acting under a pure motive then my behaviour was blameless. But I was wrong, so, so, very wrong. "No," I correct Willow. "Riley found out. Angel and I are over. Everything's over."

"Oh," she is suddenly shocked out of her talkative mood. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"No," I feel tears beginning to prick at my eyes once more and try to will them away. I won't cry again, I won't. I've already shed an ocean of tears – no more, please. "Riley gave me an ultimatum. Angel or Caleb. There was no other choice."

"Oh, Buffy, I'm so sorry…"

"I don't know what to do, Will," I beg for my best friend to make it all better. "It just hurts so much. It's so lonely without him…"

"Maybe things will improve in time," she tries lamely to reassure me.

"Yeah, maybe I'll just stop expecting anything more from life." I comment bitterly.

An awkward silence stretches between us, which Willow finally breaks. "You know I'm still going to have to bind Angel's soul. Now that I've found the spell, I have to perform it. Just to make sure Angelus never makes another appearance."

"Sure," I agree. I've met Angelus, I've seen the swathe of destruction he cuts wherever he roams and I would never wish that on the world again. But in another way it sets Angel free. Free to find somebody else to love, to live a life without the spectre of his demon half hanging over his head. To be happy – without me. And just thinking about that hurts. "Do whatever you think is right."

"He won't…you know…with anyone else."

I smile sadly, wanting to believe her, but not being able to. I wasn't going to sleep with anyone else either. When Angel returned from Hell and our entire relationship was forbidden, then I was convinced I would never have sex with another man ever. I just wouldn't have it, period. It was Angel or nobody. If I wasn't with him then I didn't care. Then he left and I resolved not to have sex just to spite him. I didn't want to move on, wanted to show him what a miserable and lonely existence he had condemned me to, how I could only ever love him and solely him. But then somehow all my assertions just slipped away, forgotten, and I was lying between Parker's red sheets taking a man I hardly knew inside me and not feeling a single thing.

"Thank you," is the only answer I give. "Thank you for trying."

"It's gonna be okay Buffy, I promise…"

"Bye, Willow. I'll see you soon, okay?"

I just catch her tentative 'okay' in reply as I replace the handset. Her reassurances mean nothing to me, I stopped believing in promises long ago.

~~~

Weeks become months and robo-Buffy reigns supreme. My entire existence is spent just going through the motions. Not feeling, not thinking, just doing. It's the only way I can cope; to push every little piece of me that ever felt anything deep down inside me and keep it so well hidden that eventually I forget it's there at all.

At least Riley relaxes his obsessive guard over me. I am no longer watched twenty-four hours a day, but it hardly matters because by now I've lost even the will to defy him. My desperate need to call Angel, to just hear his voice, has faded in the light of the realisation that it's easier not to have any contact with him at all. Then I can pretend I don't miss him all that much. I can play down my memories and become unaccustomed to the thrill that shoots through me every time he is near. I can learn to live my life without him, painful though it may be.

Tonight Riley has planned a sort of party, probably more of a gathering of his friends from work and their wives. He says it's for me, to try and get me to make friends, to meet new people and finally settle properly into life here. I suppose he thinks the more connections I have in town, then the less likely I will be to leave. He wants me to forget Sunnydale and California, leave Angel and my little foray back into slaying behind me. He wants a proper wife who keeps house and bears his children and hosts weekly coffee mornings. The more I contemplate the idea the more it makes me laugh. For however much Riley maintains he loves me, he can't possibly, because if he did then he would know that the woman he dreams of isn't me. And she never will be, no matter how hard he tries to make this the case.

I play my part, however, and cater for the party. Beer and snacks are bought and made and the backyard strung with fairy lights. I put on the dress Riley gave me especially for the occasion, a short cotton slip in pastel colours with a floral print. A far cry from my normal tastes in fashion, but it is easier just to go along with Riley than to bother arguing. Now I much prefer acquiescence and a quiet life to arguments, tears and repeated threats of severing any further contact between my son and me. Since the time he first found out about my affair with Angel, I have rebelled against Riley only a handful of times. Every fight I have lost, brutally and painfully, my hands aching for violence, my heart weighed down with guilt, my fury without outlet. So, I've learnt it's better not to object at all, just to let the circumstances wash over me. Riley has me trapped here and the sooner I get used to the idea the less unhappiness I will feel.

As the house fills steadily with people, I do my best to avoid them, choosing to hide in the kitchen under the pretence of preparing more sandwiches, chips and dips. My ever-present Slayer-senses detect a movement behind me and I spin around, automatically brandishing the bread knife aggressively, to be faced with one of our guests.

"Hi," he offers a sheepish grin. "Sorry if I scared you."

"It's okay," I shake my head, lowering the knife. "You didn't, really. I'm just a little jumpy."

"I came to get some more beers," he holds up and empty bottle and I fetch him another six-pack from the refrigerator. I follow him outside with several more rounds of drinks, but before I can head back to the sanctuary of the kitchen he catches my arm.

"Why don't you stay out here and talk a while?" I hesitate and he smiles encouragingly. "It's all right, I don't bite."

I flinch visibly at his words, memories of having heard them too many times before coming flooding back to me. But this isn't Sunnydale – there aren't vampires lurking around every corner. And this man is just an ordinary guy, he's not going to steal my heart and my virginity, crush me with a deeper pain than I could ever imagine, then rip out my throat and drink me dry until I'm a part of him and he's a part of me and we lose all sense of ever being separate people in the first place…

"I scared you again, didn't I?" The man looks embarrassed. "I just seem to have this knack of saying exactly the wrong thing all the time."

"It's not your fault," I answer quietly.

"Do you think we could start over? And maybe this time finish in a place where you don't hate me?" He offers me his hand to be shaken. "I'm Mark Jacobs."

"Buffy Summers – I mean Finn, Buffy Finn," I laugh slightly. "I still haven't gotten used to the whole change of name thing yet."

"I take it you and Riley haven't been married all that long then."

"About nine months," I reply. "And I'm sure you can do the math."

His face clouds over with confusion for a second, then understanding dawns. "Ah. Yeah, Riley's shown me pictures of your son."

"You too?" I ask with an apologetic smile. "He can be a little enthusiastic about these things."

"I got that. But I bet he's a great father."

"Yeah, he is, I guess…"

Mark seems to sense the sudden downturn in my mood and attempts to quickly change the subject. "Where's Caleb tonight, then?"

"Upstairs, asleep." I shake my head disbelievingly, "he could probably sleep through an earthquake. Definitely doesn't take after his mother in that respect," I continue, thinking of all my recent sleepless nights. "I should probably go check on him."

"Why don't I come with you?" Mark suggests. "Keep you company, see if he's really as cute as Riley claims."

"Sure," I shrug and lead him up the stairs.

Entering Caleb's room, I lean over the crib and look down at my son. Even putting aside my prejudice as his mother I have to admit that he is absolutely adorable. His huge hazel eyes blink open in response to my presence and he kicks his feet, making little gurgling noises. This is the reason I stay with Riley, I force myself to remember. This is what makes all the pain of living without Angel bearable.

"Hey, little guy," I pick the baby up in my arms, cradling him close to my chest. Mark reaches out with his fingertips to tickle Caleb's feet and matching smiles break out on both mother and child's faces. If only there was another man here for me to share this with – a man with the darkest, most intense eyes I have ever seen, his gaze something to drown in – then the moment would be perfect.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs causes me to turn my head towards the door, my expression undoubtedly guilty as I am caught once more in fantasies of my former lover. Riley's eyes narrow in barely concealed anger as he takes in the situation.

"The party's downstairs Mark, shouldn't you be down there enjoying yourself, not letting Buffy distract you?" He slurs his words slightly, making it obvious he has been drinking. That's something he's been doing more and more recently, to the point it's starting to worry me. But then maybe he realises as well as me that there's something seriously wrong in this marriage and is only finding his own way of trying to ignore it.

Mark glances uncertainly between Riley and I, then makes his excuses and heads back down the way we came. Calmly, I lay Caleb back in his crib and turn to my husband.

"Have you quite finished your display of testosterone-poisoning?" I ask acerbically, suddenly lacking in patience.

"What were you doing up here with him?" Riley demands.

"Mark just wanted to see the baby, that's all. What's the matter with you?" I go to leave the room, brushing past Riley as I do so.

He grabs hold of me roughly, before I can pass him, leaning his face so close to mine I can smell the alcohol on his breath. "That's exactly what I want to know," he hisses. "What is the matter with me? What's so dreadful about me you can't even force yourself to love me? Why do you keep on throwing yourself at other men?"

I pull easily away from him, answering in an equally low and hostile voice. "I wasn't throwing myself at anybody."

"That's not how it looked to me."

"Well you're wrong."

"Once an adulteress, always an adulteress. Do you really care about our son that little?"

"I don't believe you!" I raise my voice in incredulity, my overstretched temper finally snapping. "I do everything you want. I play the dutiful wife. I cut all contact with Angel. I pretend to all the world that I'm actually happy with you. And still it's not enough! I can't give you anything else Riley – I'm spent. And I won't live like this, afraid to do anything in case you suddenly don't like it and take Caleb away because of it. You can't use my son to blackmail me anymore!"

"So, what are you going to do about it then?" He asks mockingly, swaying a little on his feet, proving himself to be a lot drunker than I had ever originally suspected.

Something inside me finally breaks looking at this man who is supposed to be husband, this man who I've come to hate instead of loving. I whisper a silent apology to my son before speaking in a cold voice. "Leave. I'm going to leave you, Riley."

He stands blocking the doorway. "No, you're not. I won't let you."

"And what are you going to do to stop me?" I go to push him out the way, confident that he could not possibly be an obstacle to me as the Slayer. But he surprises me, lashing out with his fists, putting all his army combat training to good use. He hits me square in the face, the blow glancing off my cheekbone and filling my vision with stars. His left knuckle follows swiftly, coming round in a direct punch to my stomach. I crumple under such an unexpected attack, the beating nothing to what I have experienced in the past, but somehow causing me much more pain. Landing heavily on the floor, I gaze up with surprised and frightened eyes, shocked that a man I trusted so much should be capable of something this out of control and violent.

Voices register vaguely rushing towards us and within seconds I am surrounded by a gang of concerned party guests, each of who stare accusingly at Riley, their good opinion of him suddenly shattered. Recovering myself slightly, I climb unsteadily to my feet, helped by a woman of about my age, whose name I don't know and am now never likely to either.

"Are you okay?" She asks in concern. "Can we do anything for you? Take you to the hospital?"

I shake my head in response to the offer, going straight over to my crying son and cradling him in my arms. "There's no need to go to the hospital. I would be grateful if somebody would give me a lift to the airport, though."

~~~

I spend the entire flight in a daze, reality only hitting me when the plane lands in Los Angeles and I step out on to the tarmac there. I left Riley. I walked out of his house with nothing more than my purse and the clothes on my back and I took Caleb with me too. The problem that faces me next, however, is what the Hell am I supposed to do next?

Instinct takes over and, acting on pure unadulterated need, I call Angel. I think I cry a little and I know I am completely incoherent. But the gist of the message comes through. I love you. I'm in LA – please come get me. And of course he comes, because he loves me back and there is no way he could possibly keep away.

But whatever I expected upon our reunion, it doesn't happen. He doesn't take me in his arms and kiss me wordlessly, making everything better in the process. He doesn't promise to be with me always. And he certainly doesn't sweep me off my feet and make passionate love to me all night, now that his soul is well and truly bound and there is nothing further to stop him.

He just takes me home – back to the Hyperion since it is closer – rocks Caleb to sleep then tucks me up in his bed so I can get my own much needed rest. Before he switches the light off, however, he lightly caresses the bruise on my cheek.

"Did he do this to you?" Angel asks in a tight voice.

I say nothing in reply, which is answer enough. Angel clenches his fists, anger flashing in his eyes. "He won't ever do it again."

"No," I reply, holding Angel's gaze steadily. "I know he won't."

There is a long silence, during which Angel seems reluctant to leave me. I tentatively reach out for his hand, more desperate than ever for his reassuring presence. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

"Buffy, I'm not sure…"

"Please," I interrupt his protests.

Silently he nods his assent, removing his shoes and jacket before sliding underneath the covers next to me, his arms sliding automatically around my waist.

Angel turns out the beside lamp and the room plunges into darkness, which for once does not seem scary or threatening, but merely peaceful. I find myself drifting off to sleep almost immediately, safe in the sanctuary of Angel's embrace. Before I am fully unconscious, I mutter a question under my breath, as much to myself as to him.

"Will you stay with me every night afterwards too?"

Maybe I am dreaming already, or maybe my imagination invented it, but I think I hear him whisper his own reply:

"Yes."

To be continued…