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

Buffy POV.

Chapter XVI: The Free Bird Names The Sky His Own, But A Caged Bird Stands On The Grave Of Dreams

from I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

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He finds me sitting at the kitchen table, one hand loosely gripping a mostly empty bottle of whiskey, the other holding a black picture frame.

"What are you doing?" He asks, his words ablaze with worry.

Slowly I turn my head up, and we meet eye to eye.

"I got tired of crying," I slur and turn my head back down to the frame in my hands. He says nothing, and the silence thickens.

"It's my fault they're dead," I say suddenly.

"They should be here, and I should be dead."

I gulp some of the liquid still swishing in the bottle, the burn only a comforting caress as it makes its way down. Angel takes a seat beside me.

"I know you blame yourself, but it's not your fault Buffy. It's taken me a long time, but I've finally realized that things happen as they're meant to." They're in a better place, you know that better than anyone."

He reaches for the bottle in my hand, and I relinquish it without much of a fight.

"You have to live on, for them." He continues.

Unavoidable, I glance at him once more, the movement causing a tear to slide down my cheek. Gingerly, he reaches out and with his thumb he wipes it away.

"For me."

I turn my head away more at his words than by his touch, ignoring the look of rejection that fill his features. I stand sloppily, hindered by the liquor I've consumed.

"Why can't you just leave me in peace?" I yell as I stumble from the room.

I rush up the stairs stumbling only once, and from the corner of my eye I can see his dark brooding form following me as I make my way down the hall. I run into what was once supposed to be my room, and turn to shut the door behind me, but he's already there, and despite my slayer strength, he easily forces his way into the room.

"I can't," He says once he's standing in front of me.

"Why the hell not? I've lived most of my life without you just fine, on my own! Why do you care now anyways? Because they're dead, and you think I'm alone NOW?"

My voice booms in the quiet of the house.

"NEWSFLASH, " I continue, "I was alone a LONG time ago."

His face shifts only slightly, but I know him well enough to catch the confusion my words have filled him with.

It's obvious he doesn't know the entire truth of what happened, and while I feel grateful Faith hadn't given him the gory details, it only means he doesn't know what kind of person I truly am. And once he finds out, I'll lose whatever feelings he has left for me.

"I pushed them away long before they died."

I admit then, my voice quiet, shameful.

"After Sunnydale and we came here, everything was different. I tried, for a little while, not to make it better, but to pretend, like them, that everything was ok. But nothing was. And then, I couldn't pretend anymore. But there was too much hurt and anger to say anything, so I did the only thing I knew. I ran. And by the time I finally came back… it was too late for anything but to watch them die."

When I look back at him, the remorse fades.

"You want to help me?" I snap.

"You can do it by staying the hell away, ok? If you think one of your little trips is going to patch me up and make me all better well, you're wrong. You've got your humanity, the lovely girl, the happy ending! Why don't you just go back to it, and go back to forgetting I exist, ok?"

He doesn't argue, maybe because he knows it'll get him nowhere, maybe because he knows I'm right. Whatever his reasons, which I've never fully understood, he reaches out to me, but I step back avoiding the entrapment of his arms.

A bitter smile taints my features then, and I say, "Oooh. So that's what this is about then... you came back for seconds? It's what I'm good for now, right? Let's just get it over with so you can go back to the she-wolf."

He continues to not react, and his calm demeanour both infuriates and fuels me on. So, to prove my point, I start unbuttoning my shirt.

"Buffy, stop," He finally says, halting my progress with his hands over mine.

I yank them away though, and try to step away, but his reaction is quicker than mine, and he quickly grabs hold of my forearm.

"Let go!" I yell, trying to free myself from his grasp.

"No," He replies simply.

"Leave me alone!" I shout as I try in vain to release his hold on me.

Suddenly, I'm fully aware of his skin connecting with mine. His touch has always made me feel alive, and I feel it, but now, it only burns. We struggle then, my hands on his chest pushing him away and Angel trying to pull me closer. He wins as I finally allow him to hold me, mainly because in his arms is exactly where I want to be. Where I've always wanted to be.

I crumble there, letting the pain of my life and loss out in a sea of tears. We sit on the bed together, time going by without notice of its presence. He runs his hand down my hair and back, offering silent comfort while I cry. Eventually, when my breathing settles to a normal pace, Angel hooks his finger under my chin and forces my face up. His eyes find mine, and there is a softness in them I haven't seen in a long time.

It fills me with fear.

He opens his mouth to speak, but I'm not ready to hear it. Not yet. So, I place a finger over his lips to silence him.

"Not now, ok?" My voice is relenting, and I move slightly away from him to slide back.

"I'm too drunk and broken right now for more words."

I lie down on the bed, curling up into a ball, "Tomorrow."

He nods at my request, and covers me with the blanket at the foot of the bed. He lies beside me, and I can't hide the surprise from my face, but he says nothing of it, only holds me. Exhaustion, stress and the alcohol poisoning my blood quickly knock me out.

When I wake the next morning, I feel my body being cradled by his own, and as complete as I feel there, I know I have to go. I remember throwing myself at him, what I said and what I called Nina. I remember how I let myself fall apart in the crook of his arms. Gently, I break free of his hold managing to not wake him.

Quietly I grab a bag and a few clothes and things before I sneak out of the room and make my way around the house, packing my belongings and some memories of my loved ones. Finding the keys to my car in the exact place I'd left them, I take the couple of bags out to my small still fully loaded hatchback.

I put my key into the ignition, letting out a sigh of relief when the car purrs to a start. I turn it off once more, and head back into the house.

My eyes travel up the staircase to where Angel is sleeping, but I head into the kitchen instead, and pulling out a notepad and a pen I sit at the kitchen table and begin to write.

When I'm finished, I head back into the room to find him still asleep. I place the small folded paper on the pillow beside him, and take a few seconds to look down at his sleeping form. I feel gratitude that he was there for me when I needed it most. I've always loved him, but I know now it's time to let the past go, all of it.

It's time to set him free.

A/N: Only a few chapters left!

Thanks everyone for reading this angst-fest.

Anyway, Angel Next.