Because nobody likes a vague disclaimer: Characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

What you need to know (if you read chapter one when I originally posted it): I changed the first chapter, so you'll need to re-read that, because it's new. (I forgot I had written an Angel POV that I actually wanted to start with. My bad, sorry!) So this is Buffy, POV.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter II: Because I Could Not Stop For Death, He Kindly Stopped For Me

from Because I Could Not Stop For Death by Emily Dickenson

†

"I have to do this."

My voice is forceful, and strong, denoting only the presence of the slayer. 'Buffy' has taken a leave of absence; she represents weakness, and right now, I can't have that. It no longer surprises nor scares me how easily that side of me can be shut off.

Angel places his hand on mine gently, but he doesn't know me anymore. Besides, the Buffy he loved circa 1997, is long gone. There are no cracks in my shield, he won't get through.

"You have to leave. This is-"

"Your fight, I know." He interrupts finishing my sentence, his tone derisive.

"I've heard that one before but it can't be like that anymore."

Pausing, he stands, the anger palpable in the air around us.

"I lost my family too."

I whip my head away from him, and snap my eyes shut. I focus on pushing away the subject of his words. I can't think about them, because each death replays too vividly in my mind. From Giles falling first to Xander... Then Willow... and finally failing to protect Dawn, when she was all I had left.

Without a sound he sits beside me again, and his hand cups my shoulder. Unwillingly, I sink into his touch, allowing the comfort he wants to provide.

"Angel?" Another familiar voice cuts through the air as it cuts through me.

Our physical connection suddenly stings so I pull away, but the lack of it hurts almost as much. I stand. The owner of the voice comes into the crumbling office we're in, and when the familiar woman sees me, I notice the worry in her eyes.

"I didn't know I would be interrupting."

Our gazes lock for a moment, and we both know that's not the truth. Nina's not comfortable with the idea of him and I alone, which I don't understand.

She walks up to Angel, and sits beside him, holds the hand that was just on my shoulder, and the knowing that almost puts a smirk on my face. The way she clings to Angel is meant to claim territory. I'm a woman too, I know the stance, the hidden subtleties.

But her insecurity is all in vain, because it's been five years since I've kissed those icy lips of his, and well, the last time we'd seen each other... we weren't really on the best of terms either. And anyways, there's the obvious fact that he chose her. And I'm no home wrecker, at least not in that sense. My destroyed home and family are another story.

"You weren't, Angel was just leaving." I say confidently. I won't let her see any more than that.

Nina nods and smiles at me, but I sense the duress it takes her to do it. I force a grin out as well, trying my best to be courteous to the woman whom I believe, has stolen from me. That's not really the truth though. I let him slip through my fingers of my own free will, but the pretence helps me get by.

She stands, pulling Angel with her as she does. Despite his initial words, he leaves willingly, however his eyes locked on mine tell a different story.

When they've finally left the room, I let the slayer in me step down. My body loosens a little as the Buffy side of me takes her stead. I haven't let my guard down since the night Giles died. There were times when I tried to summon her to no avail, and I was beginning to think she might never come back.

I walk over to the window and glance out at the destruction that lies before me. One small patch of L.A. tarnished, and blocked off, lost to normality forever. Because of me. Because I was too busy pretending I could just disappear and that would be ok, because I'd served my time. I cover my eyes then, trying to shut off the barrage of memories assaulting me. Focusing instead on the here and now, my hands fall in success.

The end is near. I can feel it as surely as I can feel the comforting warmth of the moon on my face (I always was a creature of the night). The proclaimed End of Days is upon me, and I can't help but hope that this'll finally turn out to be my last hurrah.

"I'm not leaving."

I briefly wonder how he got away from Nina but his voice behind me doesn't surprise, nor does the stubbornness tainting his words. I realize that this isn't like Sunnydale, this is more the Angel of L.A. There's conviction in his refusal to leave. Arguing about this any further is futile, I know it.

"You can't do this alone. But together, we can beat this."

I don't tell him how together we're not, how Nina alone is proof enough of that. We're standing in the same room but we may as well be miles apart. I don't tell him that I think he's wrong, that this apocalypse has already won.

The sad truth is that I don't say any of these things because I don't want to convince him to leave.

"Fine, but it's your funeral."

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