Author's Notes: Well, here it is guys. This is the chapter in which Buffy will finally meet up against the blond woman. Cue the violins, and maybe security, hehe. There's one more chapter left for this story. This has been really enjoyable to write, and I'm so happy with the way it turned out, for the most part. Will Buffy and Angel get their happy ending? Will Angel realize his mistakes and find a way to make it right? We shall see. In the meantime, thank you all for the wonderful feedback. As always, it's appreciated. Now, on to the chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter Eleven

A day had passed and there were still no signs of improvement on Angel's part. It was morning; not close to the early afternoon, and I stood beside him, my hand clasping onto his. The slim fingers were warm, but also the slightest of cool against my touch; the skin color a little disorientated, much to my dismay. I don't remember how many times I have tried to speak to him, but today it would be no exception. I placed a chaste kiss to his hand, trying so hard not to fall into tears; trying so hard to not let my emotions overwhelm me to the breaking point of no return.

I had to find a way to bring him out somehow, even if it turned out to be useless in the end. Anything was better than the feeling of desperation and hopelessness that was cradling my heart. "Angel, can you hear me? Are you there?"

No response. It was typical, but it wouldn't stop me in the least. I wasn't going to give up that easily. I had to keep going, for him and for myself. "Angel, please, open your eyes," I continued. I could feel my lips whimpering against my will. I traced the curve of his lips with the tip of my finger, wanting to kiss it against my own. Wanting to feel the taste of it against my tongue.

"I know the past few months haven't been the best for us. I'm not so sure how we even got to this point, and honestly, it scares the living shit out of me because I worried about how you felt about me, about us. After what you had told me in the parking lot, I was hurting, and I was so angry at you. And then all of this happened. But I think I now understand how you could feel so lonely, even with your success and fame. I never intended to make you feel that way. Never. I don't know how I can make you understand that I would never hurt you. I wish there was a way I could open up to you and tell you everything. But I don't know if I can. I'm too scared that it might make things worse for us."

A knock on the door interrupted me, but I ignored it. I had to force myself to let the feelings out; the feelings that for so long, I had tried to bury, even though a part of me had wanted to set them free from the very beginning.

"I wish you could just wake up. Don't you want to listen to what I have to say? I need to know if you're okay in there, and that I'm not losing you. I don't want to lose you. I won't. I can't. Not after all this."

Another hardening knock on the door, and I cursed underneath my breath, releasing my hand from Angel's, furiously wiping away the tears with the sleeve of my jacket.

"Who is it?" I called out impatiently. No one answered. I tried again, only this time, I gritted my teeth as I stood near the door, my ear pressed against it. "I said, who is it? If you don't answer, I'll call security on you."

I almost wanted to snarl. "Open the door," an unfamiliar female voice answered from the other side. I had a bad feeling enveloping in the pit of my stomach. I hesitated in whether to allow her to come inside or not.

Despite my inner protest, I unbolted the lock, allowing her entrance. It was then that the hairs on the back of my neck rose in unison. It was the blond woman. My knuckles formed into fists, my facial expression marring into seething rage. "What the hell are you doing here?" I didn't care that I lost all formal manners.

"Oh, just checking to see if he's alright. I missed him, you know. We were close and all. Now, aren't you going to let me in?" she taunted in a smooth, emotionless voice, hands in her pockets as her heels clacked on the polished floor. I wanted to punch her in the face then, but I didn't want to create any unnecessary attention from security. I nodded curtly, my eyes never leaving her calculating expression. "Go on ahead," I answered sternly, my lip curling while my eyes narrowed.

"Thank you." Her voice was anything other than welcoming and grateful.

"Like I said, what in the hell are you doing here? If you don't think that you had nothing to do with him being in the coma, you're dead wrong. He told me everything. Before he became like this," I stated, folding my arms across my chest as I stood defiantly on the left side of Angel's bed, my eyes full of fire.

I wasn't afraid of her. More than anything, I felt dispassionate anger. For him.

It would be minutes before she opened her mouth to speak. "Oh, and let me guess, he never told you about us? That we had a sexual relationship going on, him and I? He never told you that we had sexual relations the night you and him were in the parking lot?"

My lips fell flat. That was about the only thing Angel hadn't told me. If it was done out of shame or embarrassment, I wouldn't have ever known. In the end, did it matter?

I shook my head resoundingly. "That doesn't matter to me. What matters is that your drugs, your influence, put him here! He hasn't moved or woken in almost three months! Because you put him there! You made him hate me!" My voice rosed, my mind startled by the frank admission. Did she really poisoned his mind to hate me?

Before she had entered his life, he wouldn't have thought such a thing. But the more my mind pondered about it, the more I felt that it was somehow the truth. My heart wasn't questioning the possibility. Then I decided to press forward, not allowing to give her any leverage. "You wanted him for yourself. All along, you wanted him for you," I realized with sudden clarity.

I could see that I was right. Her facial expression changed to one that matched my own. Anger. But jealousy also mixed in between. For a nano second, a grim smile flitted my mouth before vanishing. "Damn straight, bitch. Though he never felt the same. Every time we were together, he would always talk about you. No matter what I did; clothes, makeup, money, sex, it was never enough for him. He would always be talking about how wonderful you were, how amazing you were. How you were the one who gave him strength. He told me once that he was in love with you; that he was afraid you didn't feel the same. That's why he did the things that he did. He was afraid that you didn't love him."

I was taken aback. Angel loved me? My shocked expression vanished before she could process it. "Just as I had always loved him. Now get out. I don't want to see your face here anymore." I pointed to the door. Heels clacking angrily, she ventured out, leaving me alone with a motionless Angel while the heart monitor continued to beep monotonously. I perched on the edge of the bed, my hand on his lap.

I never realized that throughout the entire ordeal, Angel had been listening.