Authors note:  this fic takes place in BTVS season three,  after Enemies, but pre The Prom.  Buffy has a night of almost passion with Angel and doubts him and herself.  Can their love perservere?

Disclaimer:  all lines cribbed from Surprise, Passion, Innocence, Anne, Becoming Part 2, Amends and any others are all properties of their various wonderful authors.  I own nothing.

Feedback:  yes, please.

            Buffy shifts in her sleep, dreaming of him.  His touch, his kiss.  Cool, but full of so much passion.  She sighs unconsciously, and reaches out for him.  Finds only pillow and empty sheets.  She lifts her head slowly, and opens one eye.

            "Angel?" she whispers.  He doesn't answer.  More awake now, she sits up, holding the sheet to her chest.  "Angel, are you here?"  She starts to get nervous.

            Looking around the cavernous mansion, she is surprised and not a little bit peeved that he is apparently not there.  Just like a man to leave with no notice.

            He's not like that, Buffy.  Chill.  He'll be back.

            Like he had read her mind, the door opens and in he walks, carrying a sack of groceries, well, stuff from the butcher anyway, in one hand, and an enormous bouquet of roses in the other.  She softens at the sight.

            He smiles at her lazily, and her toes curl involentarily.  God, what a picture.  He's so beautiful.   

            "Did I wake you?  Sorry.  Just went out for some things," he gestures at the bag of pigs' blood he has just set on the counter.  He crosses the small space and hands her the flowers.  "They made me think of you," he states shyly and drops his gaze to the floor. 

            "Angel…they're beautiful.  Thank you," she takes the roses and puts her nose in the middle of the bunch, inhales deeply.  Setting them on the bed behind her, she walks to him and winds her arms around his neck, forcing him to look up at her.  "I guess I really over did it on the post-vampire-trauma nap," she says, then quickly adds, "not that you're a vampire that causes trauma, I mean.  I meant the other trauma causing vampires.  You know what I mean."

            "I do.  I think," he tells her with a small smile.  It fades fleetingly as he looks into her hazel eyes. 

            She shudders slightly as his lips come in contact with her own.  Newly discovered places on her body fire to life as he kisses her slowly, deeply.

            Now why was I so afraid of this?  So he's older.  So what?  God, he makes me feel…

            Oh, do they kiss.  Buffy suddenly can't tell where she ends and he begins.  He deepens their contact, making her arch her back and cry out.  He pulls away, leaving her trembling and cold in the wake of his touch.

            "Angel, I…whoa."

            "We need to…I…Buffy.  We need to slow down," he sputters out, obviously as affected as she is.  He runs his hands up and over her back, pulling his fingers through her hair.  Her eyes are unexpectedly drawn to his jawline, and the curve of his cheek, and she places her hand there, almost as if she would wither and die if she didn't. 

            Now it's his turn to close his eyes.  She traces the lines of his face with her small fingertips, first his square jaw, then the curve of his eyelashes, now the softness of his lips.  He grabs her hand in his, and almost growling, pulls her tighter to him.  Their lips meet again, tenderly at first, but quickly escalating into something neither of them wants to back down from.

They are abruptly on the bed, his bed, smells like Angelmusk and sweet grass, and are all over each other.  His lips dip to nuzzle her neck.  She tangles her hands in his hair, trying to pull him closer to her, so close.  She never wants to be apart from him again. 

He pulls away from her with a ragged breath.  She wraps her hand around his bicep, and he looks at her, eyes half closed with desire.  He rips his arm out of her grasp and sits up, his back to her.

"Buffy, we can't.  I can't.  It's not fair to either of us.  We don't want to start something we can't ever finish…" he trails off, his voice cracking.  She sits up behind him, rests her forehead on his broad back.

"I know, Angel, I know.  Doesn't make it any easier," she breathes.  "God, I want you…so much…it's like I'm drowning when you're not around, when I'm not touching you."

"We both know where this will lead," he says in a voice so soft and full of pain she has to strain to hear it.  It hurts her heart to hear his tone.  God!  I can't do this!  Why can't we be together?

I know why.

I don't understand.  Was I…was it…not good?

No, you were great!  Really.  I thought you were a pro.

God, Angel, how can you talk to me like that?

Lighten up.  It was a good time.  Doesn't mean we have to make a big deal.

It IS a big deal!  It's…it's…

Fireworks.  Bells ringing.  A dulcet choir of pretty little birdies.  Come on, Buffy, it's not like I've never been there before.

Get away from me.

Angel…I love you!

Love ya too. 

As the memory of that night rips through her head, she pulls away from

him.  Wraps her arms around herself.

"I don't think I could forget that if I tried," she tells him, tries to pull her body as far away from him as possible.  How can something that feels so right be so wrong?

He turns around, takes in her expression.  He winces, reliving it himself.

"Buffy, I know how hard it was for you.  Hell, I've tried to block out most of that year because it kills me again and again to remember it.   But I just…I try so hard to not feel you pulling at me when you're not with me.  And when you are…it's sometimes worse.  I can see you but I can't touch you.  Or if I do, we have to stop before things go too far.  God, I…" he runs his hands through his already rumpled hair, "I love you so much it destroys me."

She is silent, shocked by his outburst, but totally understanding where he's coming from. 

He gazes intently at her for a moment.  When no response is forthcoming, he stands and moves away from the bed.

"You better go."

She scoots off the bed, to the opposite side of where he is standing, back still turned.

She walks backward to the couch, never taking her eyes off his back.  Oh, God, I can't leave him…

"I guess I better," she states the obvious, and picks up her backpack, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

"Will I see you later?"

He finally turns to face her. 

"There's no way I could stay away."

She turns and walks out of the mansion before he sees her tears fall.

Later that night, after several imps and four very unlucky vampires have fallen to her pent up rage, she sags her way home.  Walking the dark streets of nighttime Sunnydale should scare even the heartiest of residents, yet Buffy is lost in her own thoughts. 

I love you.  I try not to but I can't stop.

Angel.  I feel like if I lost you…

Don't.  Just kiss me.

I'm sorry I couldn't kill him for you…for her…when I had the chance.

Hello, lover.

Shhh…close your eyes.

She walks slowly up the stairs to her front porch.  Can't face going in.  She turns to the new swing her mother has just installed, and plops down on it.  Pulls her knees to her chest, lays her head on her folded legs.

What do I do?  God, what do I tell him?  Do I stay away like I said I would?  Can I even do that?  What does he want from me?  What do I want?

Images of Angel rise in her mind, his gentle smile, his big hands, his tattoo.  The corners of his eyes crinkling in laughter at some dumb joke she has told.  His crazy hair, his pale skin, and his oh so beautiful brown eyes.  Broad shoulders, sculpted chest, uh, no, don't go there, Buffy. 

As physically beautiful as he is, she realizes that it's his soul that draws her in.  His quality of life.  His kindness. 

They have been through so much. 

I tried to make you go away.  I killed you and it didn't work.

Not the normal stuff a teenager has to think about.

What does she want?  Can she be with him, without being with him?  Is it worth the pain, the endless longing just to rest in the shelter of his arms?  To be nestled, safe, in the presence of his loving soul? 

She thinks.

Doesn't have to think hard.

Yes.

It's worth it.

She leaps up off the swing, backpack and keys forgotten.  She heads quickly back down the stairs, and runs SMACK! into his chest. 

"Oh!  Angel…I was just coming to find you… I need to tell you," she stammers breathlessly, and abruptly he's kissing her.

She calms instantly, ardently in the moment.  He gently breaks off, puts his hand under her chin.

"I love you.  Whatever we feel, whatever we deal with, it's worth it just to be with you, even just to be near you.  Your absence haunts me.  I've…been to Hell and back, and I would do it again, Buffy, if you needed me to.  I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry…I won't make you doubt me again," he tells her earnestly, as if he is afraid she'll turn and leave him in the middle of his confession.

"Oh, Angel," she answers, and folds her arms tightly about his waist.  "I realized something, too.  That you're right.  Your love destroys me too.  But it destroys me more to be without you," she lays her head on his chest, and he rests his cheek on top of her hair.  "I feel like I can't breathe sometimes.  But the minute you're here, it's like I get a hit of pure oxygen and my whole world is full of colors I never knew existed before.  Do you get it?"

His eyes shine, full of unshed tears.

"Yes, love, I get it."

They sit together on the swing, hand in hand, not saying anything.  Just basking in each other's presence. 

"Angel…how did you know I was coming to find you?" she asks him finally.  "How did you see me?"

He kisses her palm.  "If I was blind, I would see you."

She starts at this, he echoing words he could have never heard.

He takes her into his embrace, and she shakes it off, thinking only of their future and nights of stolen kisses.  The moon winks at them down at them through the trees on Revello drive, and Buffy grasps her vampire love, her soul mate.  We'll make it.  I need him.  That's enough.

Right?