Angel laughed despite himself as Buffy told another amusing story about her time in Italy, this one involving a bus catching on fire because it was so near breaking down and being forced to throw her shopping bags out a window and instruct people on how to scale a stone wall because they were scared the vehicle was going to explode.

"Hey!" she quipped with a bemused smile, throwing a towel at him half-heartedly. "I'm describing my trauma here!" She let out a sharp giggle. "I actually had to give a three-hundred pound opera singer a boost, and the bus driver was all "No! No! Sinora! You will injure yourself!", only in Italian, so I only really got the gist and then I was like, "um, hell-o, slayer!" only there was the whole pesky language divide thing- and, well, also I couldn't actually say 'slayer' so then he tried to take me down 'for my own protection' and I was totally forced to-"

Angel unconsciously tuned her out as she turned away from him to artlessly throw some vegetables into a skillet, doing what she could with her limited cooking skills and his even more limited food supply. Despite himself he found himself focusing on the casual toss of her head as she did so, the blonde hair that carelessly swept to the side, caressing her throat- and he felt yet another part of himself die as he realized that everything he'd hoped for, no matter how hard he'd tried to convince himself that he didn't anymore, since he'd discovered what his Shanshu was had materialized in front of him- Buffy cooking, laughing, more beautiful than she ever was even in his memories, even in his dreams, wearing an outfit he was sure cost at least five times what she'd protested that it did, acting- normal, not seeming to expect anything or be bitter about anything, just living it- taking it for granted.

Since she'd walked in- or at least since she'd made what was obviously a heroic effort to get over her impulse to argue with him and instead focus on the superficial, meaningless things, seemingly determined to end things on a high note- seeming, despite her best efforts to convince him otherwise, to accept that this was the end of their story- everything that he had believed about tonight had been confirmed in his mind. He was going to die, she knew it, and through some final, bizarre act of mercy the powers had sent her to prepare him in some way- maybe offer him some comfort. At first he had suspected she was there to try to defy death again, help him fight, but her insistence that she was not with the council had effectively squashed that thought- she couldn't have been any more obvious about the fact that she wasn't there to offer help in the fight- she was just- there. And all it was doing, was stabbing him over and over with the realization of all he could never have- all he should never have dared to hope for-

"Angel," he suddenly heard her say in a tone of voice that made it clear it was at least the third or fourth time she'd called his name, and his heart almost broke at the concerned look on her face as she slid to the ground in front of him, placing her hands on his knees in what could only have been described as a gesture of supplication, offering him a hesitant half-smile. "Where'd you go?" She rolled her eyes self-deprecatingly, adding, "I mean, I know I'm not, like, the most interesting-"

"No," he protested at once, standing up and turning away from her as he struggled to find the words to say what he needed to, unable to look at her when her eyes were still so young, still looking at him, after everything, like she cared- like she trusted- "I was- I mean, all I ever wanted was your happiness, so I'm glad- to hear your stories about how you have been-"

"My God, Angel," she said softly from across the room, and he didn't need to look at her to know how her brow had wrinkled in disbelief as she continued, "You can't honestly believe I could have been happy if I'd had any idea that you were-" she bit her lip, choosing the word carefully before finishing, "Struggling."

"I've been fine," he said dismissively, and she cursed the fact that the Powers had forbidden her to reveal anything that they had said to her earlier that day as she crossed the room, whirling him around to face her as she said slowly,

"I don't think so."

And suddenly he knew he couldn't stand to see that expression on her face anymore- couldn't stand to have that tenderness and concern directed toward him, not now, not when he should be alone preparing to die, and he snapped cruelly, "You don't know anything about how I've been. You don't believe I could be fine without you, is that it? Well believe me, I've survived."

She looked taken aback, brow furrowing, and he almost couldn't continue as she said wryly, "Yes, I can see that much."

"Well good. You've seen and now you can go," he said, taking her arm and nearly manhandling her toward the door, more surprised than he should have been when she planted her feet and sent him flying backward instead, saying simply, defiantly,

"Sorry, don't wanna," going back toward her makeshift stir-fry and shaking the skillet slightly, looking so natural doing so that he found himself becoming even more angry, that even after all this time and all this change she could still look like she belonged in his home- like she was MEANT to be in his home-

"I'm sure your boyfriend is expecting you," he snapped and she rolled her eyes.

"Enough with the Immortal!" she snapped impatiently, transferring her mean onto a plate before defiantly sitting down at the table and taking a bite. "He dumped me, is that what you want to hear? Kind of a while ago, too-" and she smirked then, tilting her chin at his surprised and sympathetic look as she snapped, "Oh no! Did your spy not keep you up to date?"

"You know about-" he began incredulously and she rolled her eyes.

"Hate to break it to you, but he sort of lacked your gift for stealth. Nice kid, though, very eager to do his job-" she frowned slightly. "I'm surprised he didn't tell you."

"Spike convinced me to call him off after we went to Italy," Angel admitted grudgingly and she bit back an amused smile.

"Okay, talk about unexpected," she mused before continuing suddenly, "Wanna know why he dumped me?"

"The Immortal? Not particularly," Angel lied smoothly, determined not to let her see that he cared and she shook her head self-deprecatingly.

"I think his exact words were, 'You're incredible, but you don't reach the age of 500 without being able to tell when someone loves you and when someone wishes she did,'" Buffy said flippantly, taking another bite of food. "Not the first time I've heard that, but definitely the first time I've heard it said so well." She shrugged, sadness briefly flitting across her face as she added softly, "I sort of think he maybe just wanted me to protest, you know, but I couldn't because- he was right."

"And now you come here-WHY?" he demanded, at a loss as to where she was trying to take this as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Because your latest boy toy dumped you and you want to tell good old Angel that you're done baking, is that it? Are you COOKIES now?" he demanded caustically, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her to her feet, shaking her roughly. "Do you think I care?"

"And if I am cookies now," she asked slowly, disbelievingly, "Are you saying you wouldn't want me?"

"YES," He lied brutally, shoving her away from him to the ground, and she looked at him, eyes wide as she murmured thoughtfully,

"That's funny. Because from where I'm sitting it sounds like the problem is you know you do still want me and it kills you." His gaze wavered, then fell as he found himself unable to meet her searching eyes as she stood, enquiring, "Do you want to discuss the technicalities?" ignoring the slight crack in her voice that she couldn't hide. "Namely the subtle nuances of your VERY SKREWED UP mind? What was that all about anyway?"

He blinked, genuinely uncertain as to what she was talking about. "I don't-"

"When you came. To Sunnydale. And threw your little bitch fit about Spike and how ooooh! You could SMELL him on me," she supplied bitterly, and he was grateful that he couldn't blush as he protested,

"I did not-"

"The hell you didn't!" she screamed, wondering in some distant corner of her mind how they had come to be shouting at each other when they'd been laughing- basking- five minutes before, concluding reluctantly that she should have known that with him it would have to be this way- it was all too real, it was all to raw, it was all too ever-present, and none of it ever faded, none of it ever went away- "You threw your little bitch fit and then you had the nerve to act like it was my choice to leave YOU! Like it was me who needed to find myself and told you I might come find you after I was done. YOU left ME, do you remember this? There was a sewer, I looked kind of pretty, then there were tears? And then suddenly you issue this open invitation for me to come find you when I'm done baking, like that was ever an option ever and I was too confused to call you on your BULLSHIT. You want to know the truth?" she asked, lowering her voice and advancing toward him. "I was cookies before anyone else my age was even in the oven. I only said anything I said that night to make you feel better because I thought I was going to die. Well guess what? Here I am, alive, and here you are and as usual we come to the real question- just how much of your own garbage do you really believe, because, let me tell you, it is really getting OLD."

"Fine then! I told you to leave," he said, deciding the only possible way to deal with everything was to shut down as she ranted,

"You are SO selfish, do you realize that? How do you get up in the morning knowing how selfish you are? Okay, fine, you've got your problems right now. Well wake up: So do I! I ask you for TWO hours of your time in EIGHT years- two hours which, by the way, you would have just used to drink yourself into oblivion ANYWAY- and all you can tell me is to get out? Did it ever occur to you that I might want to be here for a REASON? That maybe it MEANT something to me?"

"What did?" he asked despite himself and was stunned as a tear drifted down her cheek.

"All of it," she whispered, gulping. "There's a reason the Immortal isn't the first person to tell me that I don't love him Angel. Did that ever penetrate your thick skull? Did it ever occur to you how goddamn PERFECT Riley was and how ridiculous it was that I never loved him even a little bit? My God!" she snapped. "Did you think that the word 'Always' was just something I said to appease you? I was a pretty selfish kid, not too into the appeasing, or did you miss that too?"

Buffy took a deep breath, bracing herself to continue with her list of grievances, but stopped as she registered the shell-shocked look on his face, the rapid blinking that she had only seen twice before and she knew meant he was trying not to cry, and she felt her anger evaporate as quickly as it had come, taking a halting step toward him, wanting only to hold him before she remembered it was on the long list of actions denied her when it came to him and she felt herself hardening slightly once more.

"I'm-" he began slowly, then let out a deep breath. "I don't know what you want me to say. I- did assume that word meant something different to you than to me. You were only a teenager, I didn't think-" he gulped, eyes meeting hers as he offered hoarsely, "I apologize for that. I should have learned by now not to underestimate you-"

She opened her mouth to tell him it was okay, that it was over now, before realizing that both things would just be a lie, feeling sharply that things between them would never stand another one, hating the look on his face, longing for a time when she could have just taken three steps forward and kissed it away, kissed her pain away with it-

"If it means anything to you at all," he continued to her amazement, as she tried to remember if she had ever heard him say this many words together before when they weren't related to some pending evil, "I haven't loved anyone else either. And I-" he looked down guiltily before admitting softly, "Did try."

"It's okay that you tried," she offered softly, voice breaking as she struggled not to cry, glad to be able to say something true that wouldn't also be cruel. "I never wanted you to not find love, I just-" and she hated that her voice cracked again, "I just always kind of wished it could be with me."

"If we're clearing things up now," he said slowly, "In the sewer, when you said you wanted your life to be with me and I told you I didn't- I meant that I didn't want your life to be with me, not that I didn't want my life to be with you. I didn't know if you understood-"

"I didn't," she replied softly, then shrugged. "I was pretty young- there was a lot I didn't really get." She smiled ironically. "The concept of 'always' was not one of those things, but there was a lot I just couldn't-"

"I know," he cut her off and she smiled at him sadly, hating the agonized tension in the room, hating her inability to relieve it with any sort of human contact- hugs led to dangerous territory, and anything else- and suddenly something occurred to her, as they continued to stand there in painful silence and she bit her lip nervously before blurting,

"Angel? Do you maybe want to fight?"

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