A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who's given me feedback on the first 13 chapters of this fic. I couldn't have gotten through it all without you. Especially to Jennem, Liss, and, now, Laura who've all given me the best help of all… beta reading. I couldn't have done it without you guys! *HUGS*

A/N 2: I feel a bit like this chapter is somewhat abrupt. Still, I feel like there have been enough gaps of time in between chapters and I've been eager for the past couple of weeks to post it. I may go back at a later date and revise it. I'm even considering writing a short epilogue. But, at this point in time, I think I'm satisfied with the ending, and I hope all you are too.

There are moments in everyone's life that define who they are. Moments that stand out beyond all others. They are times when the rest of the world fades into the background, when time seems to stretch out indefinitely, but passes in the blink of an eye. Sometimes a single moment in time can change thousands of lives.

Buffy knew this was one of them.

She watched as their rescuer, a steamboat, deftly steered itself around the deadly blocks of ice in the ocean. It was going almost painfully slow, like someone was forcing it to tread carefully through the water. Along its side the word 'Carpathia' was scrawled in fading ink.

Buffy gulped, praying that those she had met on board the 'Titanic' were in a lifeboat, watching the grand sight with the same gusto. She hoped that Giles had gotten on at the last minute, that Xander had bribed his way on… that Angel was a strong enough swimmer.

As they neared the great steamboat, the passengers in the small lifeboat 6 could see that it was nowhere near as grand as the royal 'Titanic.' But to the people floating in the water… to them it was their savior and they would always remember it as such.

People flocked to the railings of the 'Carpathia,' looking at the small passengers in the lifeboats. As boat 6 got closer, Buffy could see them gawking and pointing, looking at them with curiosity and pity.

She wondered if they yet knew it was the great 'Titanic' that had sunk… or if they really believed it.

Climbing aboard the steamboat was a hushed and tense affair. There were ladders and netting hanging over the side for those that were strong enough to climb on board… and slings and pulleys for those who were not.

Buffy, as well as her mother, chose to climb on the ladder. She was surprised to find how difficult it was to climb up the side of the ship even with her slayer strength. Once on solid floor of the steamer, she felt her legs buckling and had to lean on her mother for support.

A stewardess rushed over, gripping one of Buffy's elbows and helping her mother lead her inside where it was warm. "No…" she protested half-heartedly, "need to make sure… Angel…"

"Poor thing," the kind stewardess sighed, handing her mother two cups of tea. "Thinking she's seeing angels…" The woman looked at mother and daughter in pity.

Joyce smiled, "We'll be fine, go help the other passengers."

The woman nodded, bustling away. The elder Summers handed her daughter one of the warm cups of tea, leading her over to a chair. She forced Buffy to sit in it, wrapping a blanket around her legs.

"I'm fine, Mom," Buffy protested weakly, "I'm strong."

Buffy was surprised to see her mother's eyes fill with tears, "Yes, you are, honey. When you need to be. Sleep."

Buffy leaned her head back against the chair. "You don't think he made it," she whispered, her eyes shut tightly.

Joyce grabbed her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. "I think he would have done anything to get back to you."

It wasn't the answer Buffy was looking for, but it had to be enough. "I can't move Mom… I'm so tired."

"I know, Sweetie."

"Will you go look for me?" Buffy asked softly. "I can't face it, I can't see how few people are rescued. I see death all the time and I can't deal with watching the survivors come onboard the 'Carpathia."

If Joyce thought her daughter's comments were the slightest bit odd, she didn't say anything. "Of course, Buffy."

Buffy had fallen asleep.

Joyce sighed, struggled to get up. She pressed a kiss to Buffy's forehead, marveling at the irony that the sinking of the 'Titanic' had actually brought them closer together. For the first time in a long time, Buffy had allowed Joyce to take care of her. Usually her daughter walked around like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, now the weight seemed to be too much and was crushing her under its massive strength.

But for the first time… her mother was there for her. And Joyce kind of liked that. No matter how many secrets she knew her daughter kept from her, Joyce knew that from this moment on she could finally be her daughter's mother again.

She wrapped a wool blanket around her shoulders, leaving Buffy inside and stepping out into the chilly wind of the Atlantic. She walked over to the railing and watched with tired eyes as the rest of the passengers were hauled on board. The little lifeboats seemed smaller from on board the 'Carpathia' than when she had been sitting in one. They were like little toys bobbing next to the ship, waiting for their turn to be picked up.

One by one the survivors of the 'Titanic's' terrible tragedy climbed on board. Most were attended to by concerned passengers on the 'Carpathia' or stewards, but some were half carried, half dragged, down to the infirmary.

Joyce didn't see any of Buffy's friends. Yet she knew that many survivors were taken aboard before boat 6, so the chance that they were fine was there. But Joyce knew it wasn't a very good chance, and felt her heart sink at the knowledge of it.

At one point she looked into the face of a woman that she had grown somewhat friendly with on the 'Titanic.' She tried to smile but the gesture seemed meaningless and hollow to her face. She looked into the woman's eyes and saw pain there and a deep emptiness. There were rings around her eyes, and her once young and joyful face was wrinkled and saggy.

Joyce realized with a start that she could only look the same way… that everyone who had survived the past few hours could only look the same way.

The last lifeboats had been emptied of their contents, and Joyce could hear people crying or yelling. Families that had lost each other happily ran into each other's arms. Women who had lost their husbands yelled with grief. Siblings that had lost their older brothers huddled together with silent tears on their faces.

The order was given for the 'Carpathia' to move again. 'To New York,' Joyce realized with a start. They were still on the way to New York… even with everything that had happened.

Some women cried when the news was given. "My son! He was a strong swimmer!" a woman cried, holding on to a steward's arm. "He's still out there!"

Joyce felt sick as a bunch of other women echoed the call, yelling that their husbands, fathers, brothers, were still out there… that they were strong swimmers and had survived the icy chill of the ocean's water.

So the patient captain made another round for survivors who could not be there. Joyce stood near the railing, her breath coming out in little, icy puffs. She watched cautiously, hoping against hope that *he* was there, the man that had stolen her daughter's heart. Because she still felt a tiny semblance of optimism in her gut.

***

Buffy woke with a start, a silent scream trapped in her throat. She looked around wildly, clutching the rough blanket to her throat. She blinked, finding herself on a garden chair in the warm shelter of the 'Carpathia.'

She let out a long, relieved breath as the dream left her. She closed her eyes, thinking about how her nights were going to be filled with tantalizing dreams of her friends and lover dying one by one in the cold depths of the ocean.

Shakily, she threw her legs over the side of the chair, standing and letting her muscles strain and stretch. She messaged her arms, feeling tiny goosebumps on her skin. She wondered if she could ever feel warm again.

Slowly she walked along, noting people lying out on cots, chairs, anything that the people onboard the 'Carpathia' could spare. Had the circumstances not been so dire, Buffy probably would have been amused at the sight of so many first class passengers being reduced to having to sleep on the floor with someone's handouts.

She looked at all the faces closely, looking for someone that she knew… looking for the people she knew in her heart of hearts couldn't have made it. She saw other people doing the same, scanning faces and eyes sinking in disappointment. She felt a lump rise in her throat, but continued along.

She paused, seeing Willow stretched out on a small, brown, coat. She was asleep, her arms pale, her hair limp and stringy around her head. Buffy bent over the body of her small friend, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She touched one of her cheeks lightly, smiling when Willow opened her eyes.

"Bu… Buffy?" the red-hair girl whispered in wonderment.

"Hey, Will," Buffy said in a scratchy voice.

Willow's eyes filled with tears and she stood up, throwing her arms around the slayer. "I'm so glad that you're okay," Willow said.

Buffy gripped her hard, knowing that she was probably hurting her friend, but not caring. "Of course I'm okay. I'm the slayer… survivor and all that."

Willow pulled away, looked into Buffy's eyes. "It hurts so much," she confessed. "Like there's this big hand in my throat, trying to rip me in half."

"I know," Buffy answered softly, lying her head against Willow's shoulder. "I know."

Willow let out a choked sob. "Xander…"

"I'm so sorry, Will. He was too young. Too young."

"I'm sorry too, Buffy. It isn't fair…" Willow trailed off. "Nothing about dying is ever fair."

 Buffy looked at her hands. What could she say to that? She faced death every day. She saw it in its brutal intensity. But she couldn't think of a single thing that could justify the tragedy of the night before.

"We'll get through it, Willow," she told her soothingly.

Willow sat up, posture strong and unforgiving. "If only I knew why I lived… when so many others didn't."

"I don't understand it, either," Buffy admitted. "It's my duty to protect those who need it, yet here I am when so many are gone."

Willow squeezed her hand. "It's because you'll save so many more by saving yourself."

Buffy smiled… it was small and hollow, but it was a smile. "I hope so, Will. I hope so."

***

Joyce found her daughter keeping watch over her maid. The little red-head that had been so helpful onboard the 'Titanic.' She'd almost forgotten how close she and Buffy had gotten during their stay on the ship.

With a mother's eye she examined Buffy's posture. Erect and strong, a warning to all those that came by. She was keeping watch over the girl and she wasn't going to let anyone at her. It brought an amused glint into Joyce's eyes. That was her Buffy, always strong when something threatened those that she loved.

Buffy fixed her eyes on her mother, hopeful and guarded. They asked one question and one question only, 'Did you find him?' The sight of her mother coming towards her all alone was enough to dash most of her hope.

Joyce shook her head sadly. "He could still be here," she whispered, careful not to wake the sleeping Willow.

Buffy looked at the ground, bit her lip. "Yeah," she agreed in a flat monotone.

"Buffy…"

She looked up then, curious as to her mother's tone. "Mmmm?"

'I love you!' Joyce's mind cried. 'I'm so glad that you're okay! I'll take care of you for the rest of your life, never try to throw men at you again. Just don't be in pain any more, baby, don't be in pain.' Instead she said, "There's going to be a service."

Buffy looked down again. "Oh."

"First to celebrate the 700 people who made it… then to remember the 1500 people who did not." Joyce said the last in a hushed, grieved tone.

Buffy thought of the lump Willow had talked about… how it sometimes felt like it could split a person in half. She knew exactly what her friend had been talking about. "1500 dead…" she repeated in awe. "When?"

"Soon…"

Buffy nodded, collapsing on the ground next to Willow. "I think I'll take a nap first."

Joyce hovered over her protectively. "Do you want a blanket or a mattress? The floor isn't very comfortable, Buffy."

"More comfortable than the bottom of the ocean," Buffy whispered heavily. "More comfortable than the cold of the water."

She smiled in understanding, moving on. She couldn't bear to stay and watch her daughter in pain. Couldn't bear knowing that Buffy was sinking into her misery and she couldn't do anything about it.

***

She felt his lips on her. On her cheeks, on her nose, his mouth sucking gently on the bottom of her ear lobe.  Soft little touches, down the side of her neck, back up her throat, tongue slightly probing and searching. On her mouth now, lips to lips, the contact sweet and right.

She arched into his touch, feeling him and his smell and knowing it was surrounding her until she thought she would go crazy. Her heart pounded, her head felt dizzy. She felt their lips melt together, tongues fighting for purchase, hands in her hair. Hands now down her sides, smoothing over her waist, tracing her stomach. She made a soft crooning noise in the back of her throat, hands reaching out blindly… needing to feel him. Needing to feel flesh against flesh.

And, oh god, oh god, it was a dream. A wonderful dream and she was waking up. Going to be awake any minute. It was all a dream and she was going to wake up. Wake up and he was going to be gone. She was waking up, it was just a dream, and he would be gone.

Her mind tried to shut down, prevent her from opening her eyes. She felt her mind work, knew that she was waking up and wanted so badly to stop it.

Her eyes opened.

Beautiful brown eyes, full of love, warmth, and humanity… the eyes of an angel. Oh god… her breath came out in small, tight gasps. Angel, Angel, Angel… "Angel!" she yelled, launching herself into his arms.

It wasn't just a dream. He was here, he was holding her, smoothing his hands down her back, whispering meaningless words of comfort into her ear. He was real, he was here, and he was alive.

She pulled away, staring at him in wonder and a deep gratitude. She touched his cheek gently, wonderingly. "Are you real?" her words sounded soft and faded, like a dream that was barely a hope.

He leaned into her hand, his face soft beneath her palm. "I'm here."

"But the sun…" she trailed off, leaning against him, pressing herself as tight as she could. She didn't ever want to separate again. "The water… how…"

"Shhhh," he commanded, his breath a whisper in her ear. "Later."

It was painful, she realized with a jolt. Whatever Angel had gone through… it had been painful. Her heart broke for him. She pressed her lips to the hard denim of his jacket, closed her eyes. "I was so scared."

She could almost see his sad, half-smile, though, she couldn't see his face. "You're the most beautiful sight a man could see, love."

Buffy felt the tears come then. Hot spurts of relief. She felt her body begin to shake. She couldn't help but think how close she'd come. How close *they'd* come. And he was here, he was holding her, when so many had died. "I love you so much…" she sobbed, pressing her face against him.

He stroked her hair… so gently, like she was made of glass. She felt him press his lips to her forehead and rest his head against hers. "Thank you… and I love you, too."

When her tears stopped, she took a step back, composed herself. "There's a service," she told him. "For the people who made it… and those who didn't."

"How many?"

Died, Buffy finished inwardly. Doesn't even ask about the people who made it. "15 hundred."

Angel took that in. Accepted it.

She took his hand, held on to it with a crushing grip. She looked down at Willow. "I guess we should wake her up and go, huh?"

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, "It's good to remember and grieve."

Buffy felt her eyes fill with tears. "Yeah."

***

The service had been hard. So many were gone, it was impossible not to look at the hundreds of tear stained faces and not feel a weight resting on the heart. But Buffy didn't break down, she held her head high, one hand gripping her mother, one hand gripping Willow, and Angel's arms wrapped firmly around her waist.

Joyce and Willow were happy to see Angel and neither seemed to resent the fact that he had been able to survive when so many others hadn't. Buffy knew that her heart could never really be able to be full again, even with Angel in her life. Giles and Xander were gone, two men that she had grown to love and depend on. She knew that she would never forget the watcher that had always been ready to give up his life along with hers, and one of the only friends that had ever been able to accept and care for her.

She saw Cordelia once. It had been on their second day of their stay on the 'Carpathia.' Buffy almost hadn't recognized her. The old Queen C was gone and in her place was a girl with stringy hair, bags under her eyes, and a deep sadness in her eyes. She had told Buffy only that Riley was gone and that she was happy Buffy had been able to make it alive. Buffy hadn't been able to say anything at all, as a big void of sadness, regret, and despair had gnawed its way into her stomach.

They were supposed to get to New York by the evening. She turned and looked at the man next to her. Really looked at him. And she thought, suddenly, about how she'd almost forgotten how beautiful he could be, how it made her body flush when he stared at her.

God, she loved his eyes. The way that they stared at her, passionate and hot and burning. Not even the cold Atlantic waters could douse the fire that was ablaze for her. She felt herself melting against him. When so many others had lost, she'd gotten what she wanted most. She wished that she had the strength to feel bad for it, but feeling him hold her, feeling his arms pressing against her back tightly was enough to shut everything else out.

And she would be ever thankful that he had been given back to her.

"Angel," she said gently, "what happened that night?"

She saw him gulp, turn slightly away from her. They hadn't talked about it since she had asked him that question upon their reconciliation. They had spent the last few days holding each other, crying, and looking for anyone they knew that survived.

He sighed, bowing his head, knowing that if he didn't tell her, he'd never be able to. He felt his guilt and shame rest heavily upon his soul, and knew that she would never let him bear that burden all alone. "It's painful…" he said slowly.

She kissed him gently, looked deep in his eyes. "I would never judge you."

"I know," he whispered, looking deep in her eyes. And he talked. His voice was steady and strong, and he held a perfect poker face that didn't so much as grimace at the difficult parts. But Buffy knew, she knew what it must have been like for him in the water, seeing the thousands dying and not being able to do anything to help. He would never be able to shake the guilt that would plague him watching so many innocents die.

He told her of how he'd jumped from the ship at the last possible moment, how he'd had trouble swimming in the icy water despite his inability to really feel temperatures. He told of the man who had finally rescued him, hauled him onboard the small, overturned raft. He confessed of the people that they had to turn away or risk perish themselves. He told her how the lifeboats had finally come back, but how it had been too late and not more than four had been rescued of the 15 thousand who were let loose in the Atlantic water.

"I was in the lifeboat, near the back when the 'Carpathia' could be seen," he explained, a short smile of amusement momentarily appearing on his face. "That's when the first rays of sun could be seen coming up. I thought it was the end, that no creature like me could possibly watch so many innocents die without facing the wrath of the higher powers." Angel titled his head back, stared out at the deck where the sky was beginning to become darker and the sun was disappearing over the horizon. Buffy felt the lump rise in her throat, knowing the pain that he must be facing, but filled with a desperate urge to jump in front of him and shield his body from the sun.

He took her hand, squeezed it. "But I knew that I couldn't have possibly gone that far without going all the way. I knew in that moment that I had to do all I could for the rest of my long years to protect the human race. So I asked for a blanket… all those people freezing and I asked if I could borrow a few blankets to cover myself with. I said something about a skin disease in the sun, that it wasn't pretty." Angel voice became slightly bitter, "It's amazing how generous people become when thrust into a life and death situation."

Buffy blinked, "What do you mean? They wouldn't give you the blankets?"

"No, they gave me them, especially when I started burning slightly."

"Then what is it?"

"You live long enough and you realize, there are things that people do, people with souls, that can compete with the worst of demons… and they have the excuse of not having a conscience. There were third class passengers, Buffy, that weren't even allowed to go up to the lifeboats. And I heard them screaming and begging to get out."

Buffy closed her eyes, leaned her head back. She yanked away from him, beginning to pace angrily back and forth across the deck. "I want to pound someone for this. I want to find the guy who screwed up and beat him until he feels the pain of all the people that he killed." She spun around, feeling her heart beating wildly, "Why didn't you tell me, Angel? Back when we were on the 'Titanic' you *must* have heard them before I left the ship."

"I couldn't," he hissed. "If I told you… you would have gone down there and you wouldn't be standing here right now. And the only way that I could survive was to block them out."

"Every man for himself," she muttered, feeling the anger creep up her arm until her fist shook with the need to punch something.

"Don't I know it."

She let out a breath. "No… I'm not mad at you." She stared at him, frustration creeping into her eyes. "It's just… not fair, you know? I mean, jesus, you're going to have to live with that for the rest of your life. You're constantly going to have to remember their screams, the people begging for help in the water, the fright of watching all the lifeboats paddle away from the survivors drowning in the water…" she trailed off, feeling the anger leave and that deep exhaustion creep in. "I wish there was some way to take the pain away."

He smiled hollowly. "I've done worse."

"Angel…" her voice was soft and sad. She walked to him, wrapped her arms around his waist. "I don't think I'll ever get over the pain of thinking that you drowned out there. And that I was alone again."

He hesitated a moment, then pulled her tightly against him. "It's so hard to know where to go from here," he admitted brokenly in her ear.

"No…" she protested, cupping his cheek, surprised to find it moist with tears. "Never. You know exactly where to go," she said firmly. "With me, to fight for the rest of this people on this earth, for as long as we possibly again." She cradled him against her chest, feeling his tears slide down her breast and comforting like he had done her millions of times before.

When he calmed, he pulled away and tenderly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I guess there was a reason that I got to survive," he whispered.

She felt her heart bottom out and her legs feel weak. "Promise that you'll never leave me again."

"Buffy…"

"Promise!" her voice slipped a little on the words, turned into a slight beg.

Angel leaned his forehead against hers. "I don't think I could… I don't think anything could make me want to leave you."

"We'll heal together," she told him. "It's going to be hard… so many gone. But we'll do it together."

"Together," he echoed, but his voice sounded distant… like he wasn't really with her.

She pulled away from him, forced herself to look away from him. He'd been through God knows what. They were on a ship with hundreds of other refugees. She couldn't expect him to start making promises to her. The time wasn't right… wasn't appropriate. She took his hand, squeezed it, a silent promise that she understood that he needed time.

He looked down at their clasped hands and she could see him considering it. She felt her stomach turn into knots. There was something… something different…

She gasped when he dropped to one knee. His words came out in a rush, sentences jumbled together… but it was still poetic. And Buffy knew that she'd remember every word for the rest of her life and treasure them.

"I know that we haven't known each other long, but it's real, Buffy. Never have I felt like this for anyone in all my lifetime. 150 years and I've loved one woman. I want to protect you, hold you close, keep your heart warm should anything ever want to batter or bruise it. I want to take you away from here, shield you, so you never know the depths of human suffering. But I can only promise to stay by your side, to protect you to the best of my ability. I want to see you grow old and take all the pleasures from life that there are. I promise to try and make you happy, to do whatever lights up your eyes. I can't promise to be anything but what I am, I can't promise I'll never make you cry, make you angry, but I will always love. Always, forever, as long as I am on this earth there will never be another. Buffy… will you marry me?"

She couldn't speak. Her stomach bottomed out and her hands trembled. She let out a high sigh… she couldn't speak… couldn't say anything.

Angel held out a ring. Two hands held onto a small heart. "It's an Irish wedding band," he explained. "The hands represent friendship, the crown represents loyalty, and the heart… well, you know. Wear it with the heart facing inwards and it means you belong to someone.  Buffy, love, will you be my wife?"

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes! Yes!"

Angel smiled and Buffy thought that she had died and gone to heaven. The man had the most beautiful smile. He stood, slipping the ring on her finger. She brought the ring to her lips, pressed a chaste kiss to the cold metal. She loved him… she loved him so much.

"I love you, Angel," she said.

He bent, kissing her with all the passion that burned in him. Their lips touched and they melted into each other. Tongues dwelled together, teeth bumped, and Buffy felt dizzy. His arms were around her, tight, like he was her guardian and anchor in the world. He kissed her like he knew her, like he knew everything about her, but she was wonderful and exciting. She knew that the fires of passion and spark would always burn around them, that nothing could ever separate them. Not demons, darkness, or the forces of nature.

They were forever.

When he pulled away, he gazed off into the ocean. "I know it wasn't the most appropriate time…"

"No," she interrupted, pressing a finger to his lips. "It was the best time. We all need a little hope."

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulled her tight against his side. They stared into the deep ocean, watching as the faint outline as the Statue of Liberty appeared. Neither of them pointed it out, even as many other passengers flew to the railing. They both knew what the other was thinking.

They would never forget the cold, lonely night when despair and death clung to the water around the 'Titanic.' But hope was alive in them and their love was deep. They would heal.

Together.

The End