Author's Notes: Well guys, this is really the end of the story, which has been wonderful to write and concoct. Thank you all for the supportive reviews, favorite alerts, story alerts, and author alerts. I hope the epilogue makes up for what I had done to Buffy and Angel. As always, feedback is encouraged. Enjoy!

Epilogue

We're running, keep holding my hand, so we don't get separated….

I neared the only Greyhound bus station that was open at this time of night, my eyes solely focusing on the almost empty road ahead of me. The sky was clear and filled with millions of stars, and it felt as if my chest was yearning to reach for them. They didn't know where I was going; I didn't leave them a trace of my whereabouts, not even a single piece of paper. I preferred it that way, though deep down, it was leaving me in silent agony.

It was better not to know what became of Angel; if his body had finally lost the essence that was his soul.

With the long distance that now separated us, the longing for him hadn't wavered, in spite of how many times I had tried to suppress it. For the rest of the day until my leaving, it had remained in my heart.

And it was still there.

The image of him; of his smiles, of his conflicted emotions, continued to burn vividly in my mind.

My melancholic thoughts were quickly interrupted by the chirping of a cell phone that I had left in the armchair during the previous night. For the tenth time this evening, I ignored it, letting the phone to continue ringing until it lost the fight to be answered.

No use calling me. I'm not going back, I thought adamantly, swerving a left into the bare parking lot of the bus station, the lights of the small cement building flicking against the shadowed desert landscape.

Here we are. This is it. The unspoken goodbye, I thought mutely, shifting the car to enter a spot closest to the station entrance, turning off the ignition without paying much attention to it. I stared through the windshield, pondering in thought as my hand reached through the polyester handle of my gym bag. It was the only bag I held with me. I didn't need anything else.

Except him. You're forgetting him, you know that? You're leaving him behind, a voice in my mind retorted coldly.

Does it even matter anymore? He's probably dead.

Don't be so sure, the voice stated as a matter of fact. Another pause and then I tugged at the bag, opening the driver's door, welcoming the slightly cool air into my lungs as I inhaled its freshness, my eyes temporarily closin as I ignored my mind's voice without giving it another thought.

I reached for the ticket that was hiding deep within my back jean pocket, holding it as if it was my last chance.

You sure you want to do this? It's not too late to turn back. There's still time…

I'm sure," I answered loudly, taking the first steps to enter the automatic double doors, noticing that there was no other passengers but myself and a man sitting near the far right corner, clothed in a gray hoodie and leather jacket while hunching over a magazine, his back facing me.

I couldn't see his face from where I was standing.

I shrugged in nonchalance as I strode towards the ticket booth, handing the ticket to a stocky male attendant.

"Bus to New York will be leaving in five minutes, ma'am, " he announced with a sweep of his arm. I simply nodded before turning to take an available seat, a cheap plastic orange chair that was not so far from where the hooded stranger was sitting.

I perched on it carefully, my eyes weary as they held onto the man's protruding back. Abruptly, I turned my eyes to study the scratches that etched the dirty floor, pretending not to notice the familiarity of the way the man was carrying himself.

"Heading to New York on a late night like this?" the man intercepted, causing me to slightly jump out of my chair in startled reverie. "Not like it's any of your business," I replied defensively. Not a moment too soon and the intercom sprang to life, motioning that the bus to New York was preparing to take off for the destination ahead. Without glancing at the man beside me, I picked up my bag, then dashed head first for the terminal.

I could feel the phone pressing against my leg, vibrating, signaling yet another awaiting call. As I had done previously, I didn't answer. I made my way towards the line that led to the exit door, waiting for my bag to process before taking the first step into the bus, the scents of pine cleaner and popcorn wafting in the slightly stale air.

The bus was empty, save for the driver and myself. I decided to take the last seat towards the end, clutching my bag to my chest before feeling a strong arm pulling at me from behind.

"Mind if I sit next to you?" The grey hooded stranger asked politely, his face still hidden. I noticed distinctively that a cane was nestled under his left arm. I shrugged before nodding. "Sure." Offering to assist him, he hooked his right arm against mine, the touch sending inexplicable shivers to run through my skin.

We took our seats, but I made sure to add some distance between us as we were settling in. "Thanks," the man mumbled. Again, I nodded sternly, feeling uncomfortable for no apparent reason. "So, why New York?" He pressed out of curiosity. I could feel his eyes on me. "I didn't want to see someone I care about lose his life," I answered dully, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders at that moment.

"Someone you love?"

I hesitated before answering, peering out of the tinted window. "Yeah."

"And you think running away is the best way to deal with it?" He continued, turning to glare at me but always managing to keep his face under the hood. His tone was anything but accusatory. "What makes you think that?" I snapped.

"I could see it on your face. You love him, don't you? So why are you doing this?"

"He was a well-known musician. For a while, he was successful. Soon, his problems with drugs escalated until he couldn't control it; problems that not a lot of people were aware about at the time. He became involved with a woman who was only enabling his addiction. We knew each other for years, but the inevitable happened in that we lost some contact, till we saw each other in L.A. recently. Not too long ago, he ended up in a coma," I stated, twirling my fingers in a helpless gesture.

"All that time, I never knew that he had feelings for me. I didn't reciprocate those feelings until he ended up in the hospital. I had no idea that he loved me." At my confession, shame and guilt rode through me for the millionth time.

"He still does," the man answered cryptically, causing my eyebrows to raise in unison. Under the florescent light of the roof, he pulled the edge of the hoodie down, revealing himself to me. I couldn't believe it.

It was Angel. And he was alive.

"What the hell?" I shrieked. I didn't know whether to be angry, or to cry with instant relief. But as soon as his hand pressed itself against my face, calmness overcame me. "But…how?" The tears begin to flow, but his face was distorted before my eyes.

"A miracle. That's what happened. You brought me back, Buffy," Angel cajoled, bringing me into his arms as I wrapped my own around his waist, my mind still in disbelief. I didn't care that the driver was watching us. "Somehow, in the coma, I heard everything you've said. I knew then that you loved me, even if you didn't say the words at the time. After everything, it was enough to bring me back. I couldn't bear to lose you."

"As I didn't want to lose you either. Not then, not now. But I couldn't be there to watch you die." My words stumbled, but I continued. "I'm so sorry that I left you. I'm sorry for not being there for you, when I should of."

"Don't be. I had to learn my lesson the hard way, unfortunately. I know it's a long shot, but will you give us another chance? I know, it's not going to be easy. Not with the press scrutiny, or my issues, but I want you there with me. You're the strength that I need to help fight my demons." He took my hand into his, his darkened gaze locking my own with a passion that wasn't there before.

"We'll make this work," I confirmed, pressing my lips against his chin. I knew going on the same path with him wasn't going to be a walk in the park, but I was willing to give him a chance to make things right. Not for me, but for himself, and for those that he did wrong.

The blonde woman? That was another story.

"We will," he replied softly, taking my lips into his as our tongues clashed against one another. I stopped the kiss, wanting to say the words that needed to be said. "I love you," I whispered, my finger caressing the curve of his mouth.

"I always loved you," Angel cried." Even when I was confused, it never stopped me from loving you."

For a minute, things were quiet between us, until he broke the silence. "You want to get out of this bus?"

A part of me wanted to, but the other part also wanted to go someplace where Angel and I could have the chance to repair things. For now, I wanted him for myself.

For now, I wanted to keep the world away from him. For his own protection.

When the time is right, we would go back to Sunnydale. I shook my head. "No. What I want is to have you to myself; to fix what was broken, and to start again." Another kiss to his mouth and he nodded his head. "You got it."

"All aboard! The bus for New York is now ready for take off," the driver announced, and I could feel the bus roaring to life as we left the parking lot, my hands holding on to Angel as if I never wanted to let him go.

We were the only passengers, and I felt nothing but content at that.

As we sped past the quiet highway, I took another glance at him, noticing the purple bags under his eyes. He wasn't one hundred percent healthy, but he was alive, and he was in my arms.

I fell asleep in them, knowing that someday, somehow, things would be better. For his sake, and for mine. Loving him had been a price to pay when the feelings weren't expressed freely, but it was more than worth it. And for the second time that night, he said those three words again. "I love you."

And for the first time in ages, I smiled.

Fin.