~*Five*~

"If you need to fall apart,

I can mend a broken heart.

If you need to crash,

Then crash and burn,

You're not alone…"

-- Savage Garden

            She realized that it was getting really late. The digital clock on her nightstand now read 4:37, and still she couldn't fall asleep. Buffy lay on her bed, huddled deep within her covers. She wanted desperately to just close her eyes and drift off into slumber, but her mind was rushing all over the place. A part of her was still trying to understand that she had just run into Angel, while the rest of her was thinking about home. She certainly hadn't expected to see Angel again... but that probably should have given her a clue. He had the most uncanny ability of showing up at the precise moment she didn't expect him. She sighed heavily, turning around in her bed and squeezing her eyes shut tightly.

            She was really glad that she had gotten away from Sunnydale. This was the long needed vacation that she'd never had the chance to take. It was good to get away from everything… it was good to get away from everybody. She had lived the last three months of her life without thinking. She put on an act for her friends to show all of them just how grateful she was to be back. But she wasn't. She didn't want to back. She wanted to be dead. When she was dead, she didn't have to worry about anything. She didn't have to worry about taking care of anyone, not even herself. When she was dead, she didn't have to keep feeling the pain in her heart that threatened to overcome her everyday. When she was dead, she didn't have to wake up in the morning with aching muscles and a tired brain…

            But she wasn't dead. Everyday, she would get up, look at herself in the mirror and force a smile on her face. She would greet Dawn and take her to school, wish her a good day; smile and wave… show her that high school wasn't as bad as everyone said it was. Then, she would have to go home… she would climb up those stairs and have to deal with the fact that the room down the hall no longer was inhabited by Joyce Summers. She didn't want to have to deal anymore… she didn't want to have to "just get by." She just wanted all the pain to go away. But it wouldn't.

She was Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She was supposed to be the strong one, the one that can take anything life throws at her. She was supposed to be everyone else's shoulder to cry on. Nothing was supposed to shake her; nothing was supposed to get to her. And that's what hurt the most. She wanted so desperately to be able to tell someone, anyone, what she was feeling. She wanted, for once, to be able to dump her problems onto someone else. She couldn't take it anymore… she couldn't take seeing the expectation on everyone's faces. The expectation that she would be OK. Because the truth was, she wasn't OK. She couldn't deal. Though she looked and acted like she was just fine, she was dead inside. No one could see that…

No one… but him. She had felt his eyes on her the whole way back to the hotel. He could see right through her. She could trick the world, she could trick her best friend, her sister, even her Watcher… but she couldn't trick him. He had a vision that could penetrate her heart and see straight to her soul. He knew that she was just going through the motions of life; he felt her pain… just one look into his eyes had shown her that. She cursed him. She cursed him for being so wonderful and for being able to understand her. She cursed him for being able to melt her with just one look… even after all the years.

She closed her eyes again, this time feeling hot tears trickle down her cheeks. She clenched her teeth together, squeezing her eyes shut, forbidding them to shed any more tears. She wasn't supposed to break down like this… especially not two nights in a row… she was supposed to have control. She had six years of Slayer training; she was supposed to be able to suppress her emotions. She bit down on her lip until she could taste metallic blood on her tongue. She was supposed to be able to restrain herself…

To hell with restraint! She screamed mentally. She couldn't do this. She couldn't lie to herself anymore. She hurt… she hurt physically, she hurt mentally, and she hurt emotionally. And all she wanted, was to make it all go away…

*          *          *

            A soft knocking at his door brought Angel out of his daydream. He blinked, hearing the sound again. He sighed, getting from his chair. He grabbed his shirt off the bed and draped it over his shoulders, not bothering to button it.

            The knocking grew even more persistent as he approached the door. Carefully he unlatched the lock and opened the door just a crack so he could see out into the hall.

            Buffy stood before him clad in lavender silk pajamas. She had her arms wrapped around her, and she was slouching in a defeated manner.

            "Buffy…?" He asked, slightly alarmed. Her face was blotchy and her eyes were a bit swollen. She had been crying.

            Her head jerked up immediately as she heard his voice. She seemed frightened… helpless. She looked a little disoriented, as if she didn't know where she was, or why she was there. Her mouth opened, as if she were going to say something, but it took a moment before anything came out. "I… Angel," She finally said, her voice was so small, "I'm sorry to…um… did I wake you?"

            "No." He shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face. He pushed the door open a little wider and stepped back, "Come in."

            She nodded, dropping her gaze to the floor. She stepped inside, walking past him and into the room. He closed the door behind her, latching it shut again. He stared at the wall for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on. He could hear her sit down in a chair and he turned around again.

            "Um… do you want anything? I could crack open the minibar…" He offered.

            She just shook her head, her eyes never leaving the floor. "I… uh…" She cleared her throat uneasily. It was as if she suddenly realized what she was just doing, she all of a sudden became very self-conscience. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her pajamas, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "I… couldn't sleep…" She finally said, "And… um… thought that I would… you know…. run my whole situation by you. Compare notes… see if there are any connections between your demon and my vampire gang."

            He raised an eyebrow, sensing that this wasn't the real reason she had come to see him. He was about to say something about it, but decided against it. He took a seat across from her, nodding. "Sure… that's a good idea."

            She let out a relieved sigh, meeting his gaze for a second then immediately dropping it back to her hands. "So… Giles says that this gang… it's called the Journeyers… you ever heard of them before?"

            He nodded very slowly, "Yeah… I've heard some things about them. They were really strong in force about 200 years ago. In fact, they dominated a lot of Europe. They're a pretty scary bunch… but then, a little while afterwards they got completely disbanded. I never really heard from any of them again…"

            Buffy nodded, "Yeah, Giles said something along those lines. He also said that if they all get back together again, in the same place, then they could do some serious damage."

            Angel sighed, "Well… Giles generally tends to be right about these kinds of things." He looked up at her.

            She looked so small sitting in that chair. She was slouched completely in it. Her posture held no form, and it looked like she was trying to disappear into her seat. She was fidgeting rather systematically with the ends of her pajama shirt and her eyes were staring off into some unknown place. He frowned, furrowing his eyebrows. She wasn't saying anything.

            Slowly, he leaned over in his chair, resting his elbows on top of his knees. He craned his neck, trying to catch her attention, but she seemed to have drifted off into space. Finally, he reached his hand out, gently brushing her arm. "Buffy…?"

            She jerked back, blinking rapidly. "Oh… um…" She shook her head, forcing a wane smile, "Sorry… was thinking about stuff."

            "What kind of stuff?" He asked, deciding that he was going to figure out what was wrong whether she liked it or not.

            She shrugged, "Nothing important, you know… Slayer thoughts." She brushed some stray hair from her eyes, "Stake goes in, stake comes out, vamp turns into dust."

            He raised an eyebrow, "What's wrong, Buffy?"

            "Nothing." She replied all too quickly. She looked at him, slightly bewildered, "What makes you think something is wrong?"

            "Buffy…" He sighed, "I know you… I can tell when something is wrong. And right now… something is definitely wrong."

            "No, nothing's wrong." She persisted, getting up from her chair. "You don't know me… you knew me… you knew me when I was just a high schooler. I'm different now. I'm… just… different…" Her voice trailed off, her argument losing momentum.

            He rose slowly from his seat, walking towards her. "Please, Buffy… just tell me what's going on."

            She turned around, walking away from him and then turning around again, "I… nothing's going on!" She said loudly, "I'm just… I was just thinking about this vampire gang. You know, it sounded dangerous… so I was just trying to figure out ways to kill them."

            "You've dealt with plenty of vampires before, Buffy. None of them have ever shaken you up like this." He persisted, taking a step towards her; "None of them would have made you come down here to see me at this insane hour in the morning…"

            She looked up, heat rising in her eyes, "Well, I'm sorry if I've distracted you from what you were doing. I certainly didn't intend to waste your time…" She tried to walk past him and towards the door.

            He wasn't going to let her off that easy. He caught her arm quickly with his hand, stopping her in mid step. "Buffy… you know I didn't mean it that way." He said, letting a little concern leak into his tone.

            "Yeah… of course not. You never mean what you say." She said, glaring at him, "You just come and go as you please, spouting words of wisdom… that's how it always is, isn't it? And then you say something you don't mean, and I'm supposed to just forgive you and understand…"

            "That's not how it is…" He said, keeping his grasp firm on her arm.

            "Then how is?" She asked, "Because I don't understand it anymore. I don't understand how this is supposed to work. And you know what? I don't understand why the hell you can still affect me the way you did two and half years ago!" She whirled on him, "I don't understand why you left. I don't understand why you come back. And I don't understand why I ran into you today. I don't understand any of it! All I know is, when I look at you… a part of me wants me to be angry, but the rest of me can't. And that frustrates me! This can't keep happening to me. I can't deal with it anymore… I can't deal with…" She paused in mid-sentence, her muscles tensing under his grasp. She shook her head, her voice dropping to a whisper, "I can't deal with anything…"

            He didn't say anything. He just watched her and listened to her. He knew that she was no longer talking about them anymore. She just wanted to get angry at something. She was hurting… she was hurting badly. He didn't know why. All he knew was that there was a pain in his chest that didn't belong to him… it was her pain.

            She wriggled out of his grasp, brushing past him. He turned around, watching as she walked away from him, towards the balcony door. She stood with her back turned, staring out the parted curtains.

            A loud silence had settled itself comfortably into the room. Angel stood still, his eyes trained on her figure. The dim light from the one lit lamp in the room cast a golden aura on her. She looked so frail. The light, silky fabric of her pajamas fell smoothly over her shoulders and draped down her arms. They framed her small, slender body perfectly. Her arms hung loosely at her sides. Her stringy, golden hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, unnoticed by its owner.

            The silence had passed for a good minute now, but neither of them did anything. Angel waited patiently, continuing to watch her from his spot in the middle of the room.

            "I was in heaven." Her voice was only a whisper and he had to strain to hear her. "Did you know that, Angel?" She turned around to face him.

            He looked at her, unsure if he should answer.

            "I was in heaven." She closed her eyes and he saw tears trickle down her cheeks, "and it was perfect. There was no pain… there was no suffering. I lived in my own little dream world." She shook her head.

            Slowly, he walked towards her, stopping when he was within arm's reach of her.

            "I saw my mother…" She whispered, "She was happy. She was so happy… and… and… I saw you there." She looked up at him with glistening eyes, "You were there, and you loved me the way you used to, and you told me it would be OK. Everything was perfect…" She swallowed slowly, lowering her gaze. "That's how things were supposed to be. I gave up my life because I wanted to. It was my choice."

            He breathed in slowly, willing himself not to take her in his arms.

            "They… they don't know that." Her voice was starting to shake, "I couldn't tell them. They think that I was in some hell dimension… they all think that they did a favor by bringing me back. For a while… they treated me like they were walking on eggshells. As if, any moment, I was going to break." She shook her head vigorously, "And then… they just stopped noticing. Willow and Tara live in Mom's room now… and even though I understand that's the most practical thing to do… it doesn't feel right. I miss her, Angel." She leaned in towards him, "I miss her so much. But it's as if they don't even remember her…"

            Very carefully, he lifted his arms up inviting her in. Slowly, she leaned into him until she rested her forehead on his chest. He brought his arms around her gently, rubbing her back in a rhythmic motion.

            "They think I'm so strong… they think that I can handle it all. But I can't, Angel, I can't. It's too much. And it hurts. Right in the middle of my chest. And I can't do anything about it. I can't breathe, I can't think, I can't live…" She brought her hands up to rest on his chest.

            He could feel her tears now. They were sticky and wet as they fell onto his bare skin. He tightened his hold around her, bringing his chin to rest on top of her head. Slowly, he breathed in her scent, reveling in it. He felt her relax in his arms.

            "I… I want to die, Angel. I want to die again, so I can be in heaven again. Why can't I just die again…?" Her last words were choked as they came out.

            "Shhh…" He whispered gently into her hair, feeling her arms grab desperately for his neck. She began to cry whole-heartedly now.

            The sobs wracked her body into fits, and she was trembling. He tightened his grasp, pressing her body into his to try to steady her. She was choking and gasping for air. Every so often, a small moan would rise from deep within her throat, only to be swallowed up again by another wave of sobs.

            He didn't say anything. He just let her cry, let her get everything out. He kept himself strong, willing himself not to join in with her. Her pain was his pain, and just seeing her cry like this shattered his heart.

            "Angel..." She buried her head into his chest, her fingers digging into the back of his neck. "It hurts…" The tears continued to come, and her legs began to give out beneath her.

            He held her up, letting her lean on him. "I know, Buffy…" He whispered, "I know…"

            "How… how… how can I…?" She couldn't complete her sentence; she was lost within her own sorrows. Her words were swallowed up by another fit of coughing and choking and sobbing.

            "Shhh…" He kissed the top of her head, "Don't worry about it… don't worry about anything… just let it out."

            That seemed to be just wanted she needed to hear. She surrendered to her pain. Her body was shaking uncontrollably now and she was starting to whimper. He picked her up, cradling her head against his chest. Slowly, he walked over to his bed, setting her down on it.

            She immediately curled up her legs to meet her chest, but her arms remained clasped tightly around his neck.

            Gently, he eased her under the covers, pulling them up to her neck to keep her warm. Carefully, he tried to extract himself from her arms.

            "No… Angel… don't let go…" She pleaded, her voice cracked.

            He breathed in deeply, trying to control his own emotions. "It'll be all right, Buffy. I'm right here…" He said, reassuringly. Carefully, he lay down next to her, keeping his arms gently around her.

            She snuggled against him, her head resting on his chest. She was curled up into a tight ball. The tears continued to fall, though the sobs were slowly subsiding.

            He kissed her forehead tenderly, almost fatherly. With one hand, he brushed the hair from her face, "Go to sleep, Buffy… just close your eyes…"

            Following his orders, her eyelids drooped slowly down. Her breathing became more regular. Once in a while, she hiccupped softly from her fit.

            "Shhh…" He whispered softly into her ear, "Rest, Buffy… rest."

            She shook her head, forcing her eyes open again. She lifted her head, looking at him with frightened eyes. "Promise me you'll still be here when I wake up…"

            He looked at her. He looked into those hazel green eyes. Those eyes that could make him do anything… and he knew that there was no way he could deny her. "I promise, Buffy."

            As if satisfied by his answer, she laid her head back on his chest and closed her eyes. Within minutes, she had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

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