She walked briskly into her room and put her purse down with vigor. It felt as if her world was ending, the man she loved had made it quite apparent that he didn't want to be with her and she felt out of place in this world.

She sat down and pulled out her French textbook and sighed as she began to review.

"Maria va faire des emplettes chaque Dimanche" she murmured to herself. "Elle a acheté un pain de pain et d'un sac à main cher. C'était turquoise."

There was a light and brief knock on her window. The curtains were down and the window was closed. She drew up her knees and began to read again.

"Le mari de Maria est un peintre, il peint des watercolors des chiens et des chats sur des coins de rue. Ils se vendent très bon marché et seraient médiocres."

Another knock.

"Maria et lui mari, Jacques, rassemblement à un restaurant d'aliments de préparation rapide pour le dîner. Il note sa nouvelle bourse. Il complimente et demande combien il coûte."

Another few knocks. Buffy started to hyperventilate.

"Jacques est exaspéré à sa confession et laisse ses fritures belges et repas combo au hurlement hors des obscénités dans la salle de bains."

Another knock drove her over the edge and she furiously opened her curtains. Her anger melted as she saw who was on the other side.

She effortlessly opened the window.

"What are you doing here?" She looked down, averting his eyes.

"I didn't want what I said to come across the wrong way."

"How couldn't it come across the wrong way, Angel, really?" She said in a biting voice and turned away.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." She replied and he climbed in. "Though, technically, I'm not supposed to have boys in my room."

"Well, I'm not a boy."

"To my mom you are." She whispered.

"Right." He sighed.

"As I said, 'what are you doing here?'"

"I came to apologize for my behavior earlier."

"Apologize for what? Angel? You made it very clear you don't want to see me…" She turned back.

"That's not it, Buffy. I do. Every minute."

"That is not how it seemed, at all." She whispered.

"You want me to tell you that I want to stay here. I can't do that. I can't reason it in my head."

"Why?"

"I can't rationalize it because every minute you're with me, I don't know why."

"What do you mean by that?" She was hurt. It was as if he was doubting her emotions.

"After what I've done to you, your friends, I don't see why you would still want to be with me."

"You don't know why, Angel? How can you not-?" Her face was very blatant in showing how she was feeling, her eyes were crying, her cheeks red, her lips pouting. "I knew it was Angelus that did those things, it wasn't you. It was never you." She sighed and sat back down on her bed.

He didn't reply but sat next to her.

"Angel, you guilt yourself all the time about things you didn't do. Here, you don't need to. They've given you a second chance, Angel. Us a second chance." She sobbingly intertwined her fingers with his. "We get a chance to fix our mistakes. I don't see why you would leave that."

"Because our mistakes make us who we are."

"Always brooding. Clean slate, Angel, no regrets." She whispered in his ear.

"No regrets." He whispered back with a light smile.

There is oodles more, so don't think it's done. Translate the French portions here: http/babelfish.