Chapter 2 – So Far Away

"You survived. Great. So what? You think it ends here? No, Angel, it doesn't end. It never ends. Destiny or Fate or God or… whatever "higher power" shit up there exists, they still have all these plans for you. For your future. I can only warn you of what your future holds – the choices you're going to make. Choices between the usual things - love, death, sacrifice etc. And, you know, you're a major part of humanity's future."

"But honestly, I have no idea what's going to happen. It's just one big, stinking question mark over your head, Angel. And, what you're supposed to do now? …Find her. The one you love. Find him. And stop him… You have to find it in your heart to do what is right, not for yourself or for the one you love, but for the world. This world is lying on your shoulders, Angel. Can you honestly bear that burden?"

New York, Night

Angel stared up at the tall building before him. 101 West End Avenue, Brooklyn. Ignoring Willow's demands and leaving Sunnydale far behind, he had traveled across the continent to New York – traveling only at night, by buses and trains. During the sunlight hours, he had camped out at Motels: sleeping, thinking. It had taken him longer than he had thought it would, but truthfully, he hadn't noticed the days pass him by, his mind fixated on one single person.

Now he was here, literally a few metres away from Buffy. And he had no idea what he was going to say. So many ideas of heart-wrenching speeches and first words had crossed his mind, but he threw them all out. He knew they would all sound rehearsed … insincere. No, he just had to speak from his heart.

Just as he was gathering the courage walk up the front steps and ring the bell to get into the building, a tall, well-built man walked out of her building. His skin was a deep chocolate colour, and his head was cleanly shaven with a neatly trimmed moustache and beard. Following behind him was a somewhat lanky teenager with brown hair and pale skin. Angel watched them as they walked quickly down the steps. The teenager's hazel brown eyes connected with his, giving him an apprehensive look. The teenager was not the man's son. They were so completely contrasting in looks and colour, that they could have only been related by marriage in the family. Or adoption.

Angel thought no more about them, as he walked slowly up the steps, taking deep unneeded breaths. Looking down the list of names at the side of the front door, he saw 'Summers' neatly written next to '42'.

For a split second, he considered turning around and leaving – not bothering Buffy with his return at all. But he knew he couldn't do that. Palm sweating, he slowly lifted his fingers to the button and pressed it gently. No one replied. He waited a few moments, then pressed it again.

"Hello?" Came a voice through the intercom, a little distorted by static.

Angel recognized the voice at once, knowing it to be Buffy's. The same sweet voice he had always known, that he had heard in his head for the last fourteen years, and it filled him with fear and excitement.

"Hello?" Came the voice again, puzzled. "Hello? Wood? Is this you? Did you forget your keys again?"

He cleared his voice. "Uh, hello, Buffy." He said into the intercom.

There was a pause. Then, "Who is this?"

"Uh … I-I, um, I … t-this is Angel." He stammered.

Another pause. "Who?"

Oh god. She didn't remember him.

"I'm sorry, the intercom's been playing up all day, and I'm really not getting a word you're saying. And I'm kind of in a hurry, so I'll buzz you in, and just come in to my apartment, ok?" her voice said sputtering through the speakers.

He breathed out slowly, in relief.

"Unless you're paedophile. In which case, go away." She said. He smiled slightly, and waited for the door to open. Sure enough it did, and he walked through the front hall to the elevator.

An elderly couple was standing there waiting for it to arrive. They gave him a strange look, but ignored him. A quiet ping sounded, and a group of teenagers emerged from the elevator. Walking into it, he pressed the button for the 14th floor.

There was an uncomfortable silence as they waited for the slow elevator to reach their destinations. It was old, creaking every so often. And a musty smell that emanated from the wooden walls. "So … you just moved in?" said the old man, breaking the silence.

"Uh, no. I don't live here … I'm just visiting an old friend."

"Whose your friend?" asked the woman.

Angel frowned; he didn't see how it was any of their business, but trying to be polite, he answered, "Buffy Summers." They both threw him a disapproving look, and then looked the other way. He wondered what she'd done that had made the couple glare at him like that.

The elderly couple got out at the 9th floor. Angel sighed and leaned back against the elevator wall. He felt a familiar fluttering at the pit of his stomach as he neared the 14th floor. Fourteen: fourteen years and fourteen floors later. He chuckled to himself. It wasn't funny at all, but the quiet laughter calmed his nerves. Slightly.

The smile disappeared from his face as he stepped out the elevator, seeing apartment 42 just along the hall. He could hear his slow, plodding footsteps sounding along the wooden flooring, as he kept his eyes fixated on the door ahead. It seemed to take him forever to get there.

Maybe he should forget this. Maybe he should just leave. She was probably fine – new city, new friends, new life. She didn't need a part of her old life coming back and wrenching out suppressed memories for all to see. But, god, he had to see her. Just to see her for one minute standing there in flesh and blood to … to … remind him that she had been real. Not just a dream, a figment of his imagination. It was purely selfish on his part, but he knew he could continue on his endless life if he just saw her one more time.

He knocked at the little white door.

"Took ya a bit of time, didn't it?" she said opening the door, and he saw his little blonde slayer standing behind it. Time had been a mixed blessing for her. Her honey blonde hair had grown longer, her body was either curvier or she was wearing clothes that accented them, and her face had a more mature look. But her eyes were more serious than he remembered – having too much, experienced too much. A thin scar cut through her perfect skin just above her right eye, traveling down through her eyebrow and disappearing before her lashes.

When she saw who it was standing there, a mixture of emotions spread across her face, obviously trying to be kept at bay as her mind registered who it was. His sharp eyes immediately noticed the tears well up in hers and he fought to keep the same from happening to his own.

"Hello, Buffy." He said, quietly, searching her face.

"Angel." He couldn't ever forget the way she said his name. So different from everybody else. She said it as a whisper, so full of love and devotion, and it made his heart soar every time.

"Yeah."

"No." she said, shaking her head. "No. No way. Not now." She started walking backwards into her own apartment, wishing him not to be there. "Please, not now." She whispered.

He longed to go and comfort her. "Buffy…"

"Don't." she said, quickly. She crossed her arms, protectively, fighting to regain control. "Just … let's not do that thing where repeat each other's names for hours."

"Ok." He walked cautiously through the front door to stand in front of her.

Neither knew what to say.

"So … how have you bee- … wait, how did you just do that?" she frowned.

"Do what?"

"Come into my apartment…" A sliver of hope traveled across her face as she said, "Are you … You're not a vampire anymore?"

"Yes."

"Not a vamp?"

"No. Yes. I mean, I'm still a vampire."

"Oh."

"No, you, um, you invited me in downstairs; you said 'I'll buzz you in, and just come in to my apartment'." He smiled briefly, "It's not that easy to get rid of it."

"Oh. Well, I knew that. I just figured if you've been gone for 13 years, you might have figured out how to … get rid of it."

"14."

"Huh?"

He looked down. "I've been gone 14 years."

"Well, that makes it all ok, then." She said, sarcastically. He refused to meet her eyes. "You'd better come in."

She walked backwards down her small hallway to the sitting area. He followed her, taking in her apartment as he went. It was a nice little place with 2 bedrooms, sitting area and kitchen/dining room, decorated in a very 'Buffy' way. He could see some things he recognized from her house in Sunnydale – the weapons cabinet, the sofa from the living room.

Buffy watched him, as he glanced round her apartment, trying to sort out all her thoughts flying through her mind. 'Why now?… Thank god he's ok… What should I tell him?… How did he find me?… What happened?… What's going to happen?… I love him...'

He sat down on the sofa, while Buffy leaned against the table opposite. "You want anything to eat? Drink?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine."

"You look awful."

"Thanks."

"No, I mean … you look awful as in injured."

"Willow said the same thing."

"Willow… She told you where I was. Didn't she?"

Angel nodded.

"So, how long have you been back?"

"Uh, well, several days ago I was in Sunnydale."

"What were you doing there?"

"Looking for you."

Something deep inside Buffy made her heart leap as his words signified that he'd gone looking for her straight away.

"Well, now you've found me." Buffy said.

"Did you want me to find you?"

Buffy didn't answer. A part of said 'yes'. She had wanted him to find her, come and sweep her off her feet and promise her everything would be ok from then on. But another part of her had also given up, thinking that she would never see him again.

"I'm sorry." He said.

"'You're sorry'. Great. That's … that's jus– … You turn up on my doorstep 14 years later, and you're first words are 'sorry'. How funny. I would laugh but …" She said, seriously.

He stood up quickly. "I don't know what els…" He winced, as he felt a burning pain at the side of his ribs.

"Got anything more inspiring to say, Angel? How about 'Let's get back together again' or 'Do you feel like going away with me this weekend'? No, Angel, you cannot just turn up here, walk into my apartment and say 'sorry'!" she said, angrily.

"I never meant it like–"

"'Sorry' is if you burnt the turkey last Thanksgiving. 'Sorry' is if you stepped on my foot.With us, it doesn– …It goes beyond 'sorry'. Way beyond."

Silence.

"God, how we going to do this?" said Buffy, sighing, looking at the ceiling.

"I don't know."

"We either shout at each other till I end up kicking you out of my apartment cursing you to hell or … or we talk." She looked at him, smiling slightly. "I think I prefer the latter."

"Me too."

She glanced at his hand which holding his side inconspicuously. A deep red colour was starting to seep and spread through his pale t-shirt. "Angel, I hate to be Miss-State's-The-Obvious, but you're bleeding!" She moved to his side, and he looked down at the cut.

"Oh. Yeah, um … I got slashed a couple of times … I tried patching myself up at Willow's. Maybe standing up too quickly wasn't a good idea." He groaned, pressing his hand to the wound.

"Look, I'll go get some more bandages. Just … take–"

"Take off my jacket and shirt. Yeah."

"Yeah." She shook herself. "Right, ok. I'll be back in a few."

Ange; watched her as she walked through the kitchen, into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She closed her eyes and leaned against the door regaining her composure. Pulling her self together, she opened the medicine cabinet and looked for bandages. Finding what she needed, she walked back to the kitchen and saw her cell phone lying on the table.

Giles had given her the night off, so she had planned to go out that evening with a few of her friends downtown to a nearby club. It was why she was dressed up. She picked up her phone and called her friend Faith's phone.

"Where are you, B?" said Faith's annoyed voice down the phone.

"I'm still at my apartment."

"Well, hurry up. All the good quality ones are gonna be gone by the time we get there, if ya know what I mean."

"Faith, I always know what you mean." She said, sardonically. "No, um, I'm – I'm afraid I'm gonna have to cancel."

She leaned by the doorway leading into the sitting area, watching Angel take off his t-shirt, his back to her.

"Something important came up."