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Part Two
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OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod....

Angel was there, alright. He was laughing, his beautiful, sensuous lips curved into a grin.

And at his side, holding his hand, was a tall, beatuiful, brunette, who was giggling uncontrollably.

OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod....

I watched as the woman buried her face in his shoulder, presumably in an attempt to muffle her laughter....

It's odd, but the first coherent thought that came to my head was, 'I wonder what's so funny?'

Shock can do funky things to your mind, I guess.

And he was still laughing! Why wouldn't he stop laughing?

As soon as I thought this, he saw me.

Of course, the laughter stopped.

'Ha! See how you take the shock, buddy!', I thought maliciously. If I was going to be completely miserable for the next few days, he sure was gonna-

No.

I swallowed. I needed his help, and he owed me nothing... I wouldn't ruin whatever it was that he had built himself here. I wouldn't do that to him. No matter how much it hurt me, I still loved him, and wanted him to be happy.

No matter where he found that happiness.

"Hello, Angel," I said softly.

He didn't say anything at all. If we'd been any other two people in the universe, I would have thought that he didn't remember me, didn't recognize me, but...

You couldn't go through what we'd been through together, and then forget all about that person. It just wasn't possible.

Believe me, I'd tried.

He was still staring at me with this indescribable look in his eyes. He blinked, then his head moved a little. He whispered, a little hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure I was real...Maybe as if he wasn't sure he wanted me to be real, "Buffy?"

"Come on, Angel," I said, aiming for light, "I don't look *that* different."

It was true. Despite the years that had passed, I was largely identical to the girl he had known. The only major difference was the scar than ran down my cheek, to the corner of my mouth.

No matter how ugly it was, it was one of the features I was the most proud of. I'd gotten it fighting one of the longest, hardest battles of my life, and I carried it as a symbol of my victory, and a memory of my loss.

Giles had died in that battle.

I stopped myself before the usual, familiar was of sadness and depair blanketed over me, and went back to watching Angel, who's eyes were flickering nervously from me toe the woman at his side.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" I asked with what I hoped passed for a goodnatured grin.

His- what, Girlfriend? Lover?- had finally stopped laughing, and she smiled at him, waiting expectantly.

"Uh.." He stammered, "Samantha, this is Buffy, an....old friend. Buffy, this is Samantha." Angel looked at me for a long moment, and then at his hand. I saw the claddagh ring nestled on his finger, glinting in the sunlight. My stomach lurched. "Samantha is my fiancee."

I never thought I could feel sicker than I had the moment I had realized that Angel had left me, way back in the summer of 1999.

I was wrong. Now, I felt like I would never breathe again.

Somehow, I managed to speak. I sounded pretty much like a normal, sane person. I stepped up to her, smiling, and extended my hand so that she could shake it. "Hi. I'm sure if I'd spoken to Angel in the last five years, I'd have heard all about you."

She laughed. Why did this woman find everything so damn funny?

"Well, I've never heard of you either, so I guess we're even," She said warmly.

Oh, great, she had to be nice to me, too?

"I'm actually on my way out," Samantha said, "But it was lovely to meet you. I might catch up with you later."

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss Angel goodbye.

I looked at my feet until it was over.

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It wasn't until I felt Samantha brush past me that I looked up. At Angel. Into his eyes, for the barest of a moment. Then at the flowers that lined his path.

"Buffy..."

At the sound of his voice, I looked at him, but it wasn't the intimate, smoldering connection that we'd shared only moments earlier. It had lasted only a split second, but it been enough to refresh my memory, remind me of all those hours spent staring into one another's eyes.

"I think we've established that, yes, I am Buffy."

It was all I could really think of saying. I didn't know what he wanted me to say, but to an even greater extent, I didn't know what I wanted to tell him.

"I know, I just.....What are you *doing* here?" He didn't sound mad, just bewildered in the extreme. I knew my presence was a shock to him, and how confusing it was.

For both of us.

"I need your help."

There were several long moments of silence. I looked up, and caught his eye. I didn't look away this time.

"Buffy, I wish I could help, but I'm not in that business anymore," He said softly, "I'm sorry."

It killed me that he actually sounded relieved that he wouldn't be able to help me. Once, he would have been struck with a deep despair, as if he'd failed both me and himself. I tried not to show how much he had hurt me with his tone, averting my eyes and angrily shoving a lock of disobedient hair away from my face.

"You don't have to be," I said calmly, allowing myself to look him in the eyes again. "You won't be in any danger."

He looked uncertain for a moment, and then he cautiously begain to speak, "And-"

I didn't let him finish. I couldn't. I knew what he was going to ask, and I didn't want to hear it from his lips.

"Neither will Samantha," I said, and I can admit it, I made no attempt to mask my bitterness.

He was more worried about *her* than he was me.



"Buffy..." He sounded so tired in that moment, and I felt a sharp pang of guilt for the way I had spoken to him. Whatever he was going to say, he decided against it, instead releasing a long, tired sigh. "Why don't you come inside. We can have some tea, and you can tell me what this is all about, okay?"

He lifted his hand, as if he were going to press it against my back and gently guide me inside, but it froze in midair. A ripple of tension passed between us as our gazes locked. "Inside," I said, "Into your home."



His hand dropped to his side, and he looked away.

Silently, we moved inside.