Angel continued to look around the room. She had managed to save Spike's boxful of memories. It was sitting on the top of the bookshelf next to a photo of the two of them together. He picked it up and took a closer look. It was on the back porch of her house on Revello drive. They were sitting, facing each other, with their foreheads pressed together. Their eyes were closed. Spike's hand was on her cheek. And they both looked so peaceful. He was immediately jealous. And then hit full-force with that nagging guilt he'd been feeling since she'd called.
"Nice picture," he said, trying to sound casual.
She nodded.
"Dawn took it, " she told him. She gave it to me after..." Her voice faded. "After. She gave it to me after. And was apologizing to me about eavesdropping on a private moment. But I didn't care. I have never been so grateful for anything in all my life. That was the night before..."
Before. Angel understood.
"Buffy," he suddenly felt uneasy. "Is this some sort of..."
She was staring at him. Daring him to say the word.
"Shrine?"
He saw her shift on the cot. She tried to pretend she hadn't heard him, picking at her sleeve.
"Buffy?"
"He didn't have anyone to... to remember him," she said firmly.
"So you--"
"So I promised I'd never forget."
Angel's conscience was threatening to sell him out. Oh William, he thought, what have you done?
"Buffy... are you," he paused for a moment, not sure how to ask about her mental state. "Are you... okay?"
She stared at him blankly. Okay? Yeah. She was all about being okay. She'd only been mouring her twice-dead lover for a little over a year. She was full of okay.
"I'm okay," she lied.
"What do you do, Buffy? I mean, when you're not here."
She shrugged again. She did plenty. She slept until three or four in the afternoon. Sometimes, she'd go and patrol. She took an online course from UCLA. English Lit. She saw Dawn a few times a week.
"Buffy..."
"I do plenty," she lied.
"You just... don't look well," he sighed. "You're so pale. Just a little ways from the beach and you don't look like you've seen sunlight in--"
"One year, three months, two days..." She looked at her watch. "Seven hours and twelve minutes."
Angel froze. She was worse than he thought.
"Buffy... have you... have you seen him? Since--"
"I see him every night. We talk for hours. Hours and hours. I read to him," she told him with a dreamy smile. "He's so happy that I'm taking English Lit. Did I tell you about that?"
"You're going to school?" Angel asked.
"Oh, yes. He convinced me to take an online course at UCLA. I'm at the top of my class," she said proudly.
Angel sat next to her. The cot creaked as he adjusted his weight on it. He was looking at his hands clasped in front of him. She was still picking at some invisible lint on her sleeve.
"Does he... does he talk back to you?" he found himself asking.
She looked troubled. Her brow furrowed and she gnawed on her lip.
"Well, he's very tired, Angel. He went through a lot. He... he likes it when I talk. It comforts him."
"What else, Buffy? I mean, you said you read to him. Do you just read?"
She pulled her legs up onto the cot and sat indian-style. No, she didn't just read. Sometimes she just stared at him. Sometimes she just talked to him. Told him everything he ever wanted to hear.
"I tell him how much I love him. And that he promised me. He promised me, Angel." There was a barely detectable quiver in her voice now.
Angel slipped his arm loosely around her shoulders.
"What did he promise you, Buffy?" he asked her, his voice quiet and full of concern.
Her face began to crumple as anger and pain took over her features. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as she choked back sobs.
"He promised me he'd never..." She choked back the tears in her throat. He watched as she stood up and started pacing the room, fists balled angrily at her sides. And she suddenly fell to the floor, no longer to hold in her pain. "He promised he'd never leave me! Angel, he promised! He promised!" she keened.
He was at her side, pulling her to him, trying to soothe her. Cursing the hard-headed vampire he'd had a hand in creating. Dammit, Spike. How could he keep this from her? She was falling apart without him.
He helped her to the cot and pulled out his cell phone.
"Listen, Buffy... I need to go make a call. I promise, I'll be right back down, okay?"
She nodded before curling up on the cot.
"Right back," she repeated.