Author's Notes: As always, thank you guys for the really awesome feedback and all of the alerts. I'm sorry that this chapter is not super long, but this story is coming to the point where I'm setting up the big moments and events that'll happen. And yeah, this story is soon coming to an end, but just because it is it doesn't mean that I will make the story line appear rushed, which I hate, actually. The next chapter or two will be slightly longer than usual. All feedback is greatly encouraged and I will do my best to post the next chapter as soon as I can. I gotta say though that Buffy and the woman will meet face to face, and well, when they do, tensions will explode, hehe. This chapter does have a bit of a supernatural element going on, but not too much. Enjoy guys!

Chapter Nine

He didn't know where he was; couldn't decipher his surroundings. He was drifting in and out of the state of consciousness, of awareness; everything before him merely a distorted blur in his eyes. Was this the end for him? Was he nearing death? For the first time in years, which felt more like centuries, a new emotion overcame him to the brink of desperation and suffocation: Fear.

He no longer felt invincible, nor powerful. He felt absolutely vulnerable. And he realized, somewhere in the back of his darkening mind, that this was not the way out. That this was not the solution to end his turmoil and his despair.

How stupid he was. How stupid to fall for her manipulation. By the time he realized what she had planned all along, it had been too late to save himself. From her. And from his own demons. His mistakes were only his. And for him, it was already too late to condone for them.

In the distance, he heard the familiar sirens blaring, getting closer. He tried to move his fingers, his legs, but to no avail. It was as if he lost all sense of movement; completely paralyzed to where he had laid near the entrance of the cemetery, as if he was nothing but a stone statue. He could feel his essence leaving him, making him feel hollow and scared, as if he were eight years old again and not a grown adult capable of going on the right path.

How ironic that he was slowly dying while laying beside the area where the dead were buried. It was somehow fitting for this moment, even if it would be his last.

For the first time, he did something that even he himself hadn't expect. Dying, he could feel his eyes began to sting with the release of unrelenting tears. Without mustering any ounce of strength, he allowed the wetness to grace his cheeks, his lashes, until the trails met his mouth, his lips now transforming into a bluish hue, a symptom that death would soon be near and that oxygen was running a dangerous low.

In the blink of an eye, the memories of sins committed flashed through his thoughts, blinding and angering him to the point in which he wanted to scream in pure agony. He injected large amounts of cocaine; remorse would be the last emotion he'd be feeling. It was merely impossible to grasp in his mind.

Suddenly, he felt a painful sensation hovering inside the chest cavity by where his heart was beating to a slow thud. He couldn't distinguish where the pain was omitting from; he no longer felt the pain that brought him to this condition, only the pain of another's, the pain of someone who had cared and loved him more than anything in this world.

The pain he felt from none other than Buffy herself. He could feel the waves emanating in his mind, his heart, and his soul.

This…is….not possible, is it? How can it be? He asked in his mind, as if he was expecting an answer. Buffy herself was the last person Angel had expected to feel the agony of suffering from such a long distance. Especially after what they had gone through only previously.

Was it even possible to sense her pain? To feel it in the recess of his soul? It was probably the cocaine kicking into overdrive. That had to be it, he decided, refusing to believe that anything supernatural or unexplainable was behind the phenomena.

He was probably just imagining it; his mind attempting to play tricks on whatever well-being he had left, to make him picture that he was going out of his mind. Despite his misgivings, her pain could still be felt, and with each passing second, it only grew stronger.

What did it matter, either way? I hate her, don't I? I'm gonna die anyways, and after that, I won't ever have to see her again, his mind rebutted, satisfied.

Wrong, a gentle voice whispered in the back of his mind. Before he could analyze it, he drifted into a state where only permeable darkness remained.

"Are we almost there yet?" Buffy's voice was harried and full of panic as Cordelia made a rash left exit, following the ambulance that was only two cars ahead. The sinking feeling in her stomach continued to grow, along with her frantic anxiety that wouldn't dissipate no matter how many times she breathed through her mouth and nose in frivolous attempts to calm her nerves.

If something had happened to Angel, she wouldn't know how to live with herself, or with the rising guilt that hovered in her chest. She felt herself at blame, at fault. But she had also realized that the choices he had made were only his, and that he had to suffer the consequences as a direct result of it.

Still, it did nothing to relieve her of her worries.

"Oh, God, he can't be dead. Please, don't let him be dead," she muttered, pushing back the tears that were threatening to blind her vision. She could feel her throat beginning to hiccup as the cars speeding past them were nothing but streaks of dark and neutral colors.

"Don't worry, Buffy. We're almost there," Willow tried to comfort her, keeping a steady composure and expression.

And then there were there, stopping in front of the cemetery where a crowd of people had gathered to witness the scene. Immediately unbuckling her belt, Buffy didn't wait for the others as she strode herself out of the car, running quickly towards the entrance, breaking the hold of the curious and worried onlookers.

It was as if time was stopping itself all together; everything, everyone around her, nothing but images and distorted visions, leaving only herself, and the body of Angel lying on the ground, in her bewildered sight.

The sinking feeling exploded into a howl of cries and unwavering cursing. "Please ma'am, you must let us do our job," an EMT's voice pleaded in a business like manner.

She could feel the strains of her heart breaking into two, separate shards, leaving her to feel empty and numb in its place. She couldn't believe at what she saw. She couldn't believe it. Not her eyes, nor her mind had wanted to accept the impossible fact.

That Angel was no longer a part of this world. Her world.