Angel knew she was there, even before she got off the bus. He could feel her. He could always feel her. He wasn't sure if it was because she was the slayer, or because she was Buffy, but it never went away.
His heart caught as the doors opened and people began filing out. He still couldn't believe that she was alive, that she had been brought back by Willow and Tara's spell. When he had learned of her death it had nearly crushed him. He had mourned, and grieved and finally learned to function and move on with his life on a day to day basis, but he had never forgotten. Then, as if in a dream, Willow called an excitedly told Cordelia that she was alive again. He knew then and there he had to see her, had to hold her in order to believe it was true.
Still, he kept his face impassive as she stepped off the bus. Willow had also told Cordy that she wasn't exactly herself right now because she had been trapped in a horrible hell dimension. That was another reason why had to see her.
Angel too had been trapped in a hell dimension. He knew the pain, agony and torture she must have gone through. If there was anyway that he could help her, could guide her through it, he had to try. She didn't deserve the memories she would be plagued with night and day....nobody did.
He watched her stop and breathe in the night air, and suddenly felt tears in his eyes. She really was standing there...as if she had never been away from him, not even for a second and Angel wanted nothing more than to take her away somewhere, where she could never feel pain again.
He watched her turn, clearly sensing his presence, and then he saw her smile a sad, heart wrenching smile. If anyone deserved the title of 'Angel', it was she. He lifted his hand up slightly in greeting and headed towards her, unsure of how to keep from taking her fiercely in his arms and never letting her go. He opened his mouth, trying to say something, anything, but his vocal chords absolutely refused to obey him. Instead, all he could do was stare, his eyes never leaving hers, the two of them locked in silent conversation. Finally, her voice pierced the night air.
"It's good to see you."
"Are you warm enough?" Was all he could think to ask. He was suddenly transported back to that night at the Bronze when he had given her his leather. He had wanted to protect her then from the evils of the world, and that instinct to keep her safe had now magnified itself ten fold.
"I'll live," was her soft reply. Her lips twisted into a bitter smile that Angel had never seen adorn her face before. "Is there somewhere we can go to talk?"
"Yea, there is." He said, finally able to shake himself free of his trance. "My car is in the lot. Is there anywhere in particular you wanted to go?"
"The cemetery." She said automatically. "Take me to the cemetery."