A/N: In a world where Angel's curse didn't contain a loophole. All Angel's POV, but with a Spuffy ending, of course. Inspired by the song "If We're Honest" by Jack Moss.

L is for Leaving

If I'm being honest

You don't look as happy as you were

Every time that you put me first

It's only you that I'll hurt.

His lips twitched a bit as her laugh chimed through the air. He glanced up from his book and, just for a moment, watched her enjoy her movie. It was a realm of happiness and peace he never thought he'd experience. He almost thought it was worth his century in the gutters to be here now. To be with her.

She was curled up on the couch in her favorite sushi pajamas, her golden hair was thrown up in a lazy bun, and stray hair framed her face. The roar of the fire cast a warm glow over her, and in a sudden burst of inspiration, he set his book down and picked up his sketchbook and charcoal. She was too impatient to sit still for him when he asked her to, but moments like this, when she was so unintentionally beautiful, it stole his breath, were his favorite.

He'd nearly finished his drawing when her movie ended, and she started to move toward the remote. "Don't move," he said, startling her.

She looked over at him, eyes narrowing on his sketchpad before letting out a little laugh and shooting him that shining grin of hers. "Yes, sir," she joked as she looked back at the television set. He rolled his eyes as only a couple minutes passed before her fingers started tapping against her knee, and she'd squirm.

"Done." He shook his head as she sighed in relief.

She stood up and stretched, sending a bright smile his way. "You know how the moment you're not supposed to move, that's when you suddenly have to?"

He shrugged as he blew off the remaining charcoal residue and gently set the drawing aside. "No, not really."

"Oh," she said softly. "Right." She walked closer to him. "I'm gonna get some pizza. You want me to heat you up some blood?"

He tensed a bit like he always did when she offered to do that. "No, I'll eat later." He reached for his book again, ignoring her sigh but meeting her lips when she leaned down to give him a chaste kiss.

He'd reveled in being a vampire back in the day. Loved the blood and the freedom. The torture and mayhem. The power. He never felt shame, not for a single moment. That all changed when he was cursed with the soul. Now guilt haunted him. The reminder of what he was and the things he had done never left him, and when Buffy made those sweet, simple gestures, it only hurt him. Her acceptance when he couldn't accept himself. It angered him.

When Buffy walked back into the room with a couple slices of pizza on her plate, he watched as she popped a new movie into the VCR and settled back on the couch. She glowed in the light of the fire just as before, yet somehow less. Maybe it was the slight downturn of her lips or the unfocused, glazed look in her eyes. She absentmindedly chewed on her pizza, and his guilt worsened at the knowledge that he was the cause of her sudden distance. He sighed heavily and, with a furrowed brow, turned back to his book.

~BTVS~

It hadn't always been that way. When they'd finished dancing around each other that first year when they'd finally decided to put a name to their relationship, things had been happy and free. She'd smile at him like he was the sun, and he had truly believed he could love her like she deserved.

He enjoyed his place on the sidelines of her life, watching her take down her enemies with a quip and a spin kick. There, just in case she'd need him. They had their challenges, of course. Her mother wasn't a fan of his, and her watcher had never entirely warmed up to him. Xander didn't care for him, but Angel knew jealousy drove the boy toward resentment and dislike. Willow was solidly in their corner, and he appreciated the girl for that.

When she started college, she moved into the mansion with him rather than to a dorm room. That was the first sign of souring feelings. She'd wanted to grow into a more domestic role, and while he appreciated some of it, other things she tried to do for him grated on his nerves or deepened his shame. Or both.

Over the last year, he'd noticed that the sun no longer seemed to infuse her smile. Not when she aimed it at him or even at her friends. He fought against the intrinsic knowledge that he was keeping her in the dark- with him- when she was most definitely a creature of the light.

These days they barely touched each other outside the obligatory peck on the lips. He didn't often patrol with her anymore. It was painful to watch, the way she no longer had any fun with it. It was just a way to relieve her frustrations and tension now. Something beyond just performing her duty. Like she needed the violence.

She'd never been like that before.

If you're being honest

You know that you won't let go

You'd rather choose the loneliest road

I bet it takes its toll.

"Of course I am," he heard Buffy say to her mother as he hung back by the garden door. Joyce didn't come over often, but he tended to make himself scarce when she did.

"That's good, honey…" he heard Joyce reply.

Buffy sighed. "What? You've got but face."

"It's just...you don't always seem like you really are happy. I worry about you, you know. Mother's prerogative," the older woman replied calmly.

"What's not to be happy about? I got everything I wanted," his sweet girl replied with a pep in her voice that he knew was false just as surely as her mother did.

He could practically feel Joyce hesitate. "Sometimes," she said carefully. "The things we think we want to end up being something else. I'm not saying that's what is happening with you," she said quickly. "I just know I was unhappy long before leaving your father. I learned I didn't need to stay miserable just because I felt stuck. I wish I had figured it out sooner."

"I understand what you're saying, Mom. I really do." Angel could hear the honesty in her voice, and he knew then that she really did understand. "But I love Angel, and I am happy."

It rang hollow.

~BTVS~

"What the hell are you doing here?" Angel growled.

"Now, is that any way to greet your long lost childe?" the familiar but long-unheard voice replied.

Angel rolled his eyes. "What do you want, Spike?"

The younger vampire, whose hair was now bleach blonde and radioactive, shrugged. "Was in the neighborhood, heard you'd taken up brooding nearby. Thought I'd look you up."

"Who's this?" Buffy asked as she walked up the front stoop, dropping her college book bag on the ground. She was tense, fingers flexing as though they wanted a stake.

Spike looked her up and down, a sultry grin playing on his lips that had Angel bristling. "So the rumors are true," he mused.

"What rumors?"

"The ones that say ol' Angelus is shackin' up with a Slayer," he replied carelessly.

He bristled. "I haven't been Angelus for a long time Spike."

Spike rolled his eyes. "You hear I got myself all souled up?" Angel felt a flash of surprise, his eyes narrowing at the other vampire.

"Wait, so are vampires with a soul like a common thing now," Buffy cut in, half irritated and half curious.

Spike shrugged. "Far as I'm aware, there's just the two of us. Well...there were three, but Dru didn't take to it so well."

"Who's Dru?"

Angel was stunned as he spoke over her. "Dru is dead?"

A deep grief flashed through the younger man's eyes. "Did herself in a week after we were cursed."

"What the hell were you doing messing with the gypsy?" Angel demanded angrily.

Spike scoffed. "We didn't. I messed with a Slayer, and her watcher dug up your old curse and decided to get some revenge." He paused and cocked his head. "Respectable git, really. Not like most of the council of wankers."

"Revenge for what?" Buffy spoke up, voice hard.

Spike looked at her like she was stupid. "Killing his Slayer. Obviously."

Angel sighed before glancing at his girlfriend. "Spike here had been known as the Slayer of Slayers," His face grew grave. "Made it his mission in life."

She looked skeptical as she sized him up. "And now you have a soul?"

"Give the girl a biscuit!" Spike replied sarcastically.

"You don't seem too guilty," she said icily.

He shrugged and patted at his pockets. "Did that for a bit, yeah. I spent a few months weeping over my sins. Then I got over it and decided to do something worthwhile." He found what he was looking for, removing a cigarette from the beat-up carton and popping it between his lips.

"You got over it?" Angel repeated incredulously.

Spike looked at him with a shit-eating smirk that he wanted to punch off his face."What'd you expect me to do? Crawl around in the sewers for a century eating rats?"

Angel fought hard to locate his inner zen. "What happened to Dru?"

Spike was more mellow when he finally replied. "Got hit with our souls, Dru and I. And she just...couldn't handle it. She was a good person, once." He cocked his head. "You know all about that, Angelus. Her good, godly soul couldn't come to terms with the horrors the demon in her body had done. And well...you made sure she was too insane to try, didn't you?" It was rhetorical. They both knew the answer to that.

"Why didn't you stop her?" he demanded instead.

Spike's smile was barely more than a sneer. "I was her greatest sin. As good a man as she once was a woman, and she created what I became. She fled into the sun before I could touch her."

"You should have burned up with her," Angel snarled, grief and anger burning him up. He barely heard Buffy's quick intake of breath at the acid in his tone. "Get out of town, Spike. Before I do what you couldn't." He turned on his heel and opened his front door, keeping his back to his grandchilde as he waited for Buffy to walk past him.

The door closed behind him with a resounding thud.

"That was mean," Buffy said quietly once they'd entered the living room.

He felt as though all his life had been sucked out of him as he gazed around his living room. "He's a demon."

"He has a soul," she argued.

He shook his head, lips tight and eyes lost. "That doesn't make him any less a demon."

She looked at him in wide-eyed shock. "Doesn't it?"

He steeled himself as he forced his eyes to meet hers. He spoke the one truth he'd hoped never to impart. "No."

If I'm being honest

Sometimes I can let myself go

Fall from the highs to the lows

I can be so unpredictable

Melancholy engulfed him, and bitterness ate at him. He should have known when Dru died. They'd once been so closely linked. His greatest piece of art- and his worst. He drank deeply, savoring the flavor of the whiskey on his tongue.

Life passed in a haze around him. He knew that Spike was still in town. Could scent him in the wind. Buffy tried to break him out of his daze, but he ignored her. They'd had times like this before. He needed his space sometimes, and she loved him enough to give it to him, even when it hurt her. It always hurt her. He knew that.

Then one day, she brought news that ensured he'd snap to attention. "I asked Giles about Spike and Drusilla," she told him. "It took him a bit to track down the info...you know he's been on the outs with the Council ever since they found out about you and me."

"Did they know about the curse?" his voice cracked when he asked the question, and he suddenly realized that he couldn't remember the last time he'd used it.

Her eyes softened. "Yes."

"Tell me."

She nodded and settled down on the couch across from him. She gently slid a mug towards him, and when he smelled the pungent blood, his face automatically shifted. Eating was another thing he'd forgotten to do lately. His old familiar friend, shame, bubbled up within him as he greedily drank down the viscous fluid right in front of her.

"It happened in New York in 1977," she started to explain. "Giles knew Spike as 'William the Bloody.'"

Angel nodded, feeling stronger and more lucid with the blood running through his system. "Yeah, that's what he was called when he started making his mark."

"He also knew him as the Slayer of Slayers," she said, a little more derisively then. "But, you already knew that. Anyway, he was in New York hunting a Slayer. Her name was Nikki Wood, and he killed her in the subway in '77. Her watcher was kind of like Giles, a father figure. He was filled with grief, and to get revenge, he used his connections through the council to hunt down the original gypsy curse that was cast on you."

He nodded as the picture began to form. "So he found it and cursed them."

"He had a witch, or someone cast it for him. Everyone knew that Spike had been with Drusilla for, like, forever, so they cursed them both. Spike's been mostly off the radar since then, but they did have documentation of Drusilla meeting the sun and random reports of Spike helping small towns or villages with a demon problem."

Angel launched himself to his feet and began his agitated pacing. "I knew that damn boy would get her killed. With his chasing down Slayers and inciting mobs."

Buffy shifted uncomfortably, but he barely paid her attention until she dared speak up. "Giles also told me a little of Drusilla's history."

"And what I- what Angelus did to her?" he demanded, fury warring with chagrin in his entire mien.

Buffy nodded hesitantly. "And her own actions. Her...preference for children. Orphanages…." She looked away.

"She was drawn to their innocence. The innocence was stolen from her, and she found her comfort in taking it from them in return," he mused absently, forcing himself to ignore the wide-eyed horror dawning on his Slayer's face.

It was barely above a whisper when she spoke again, but her quiet confidence resonated with him. "That innocence, or what was left of it, returned with her soul. That's why she couldn't live with it."

He shot a glare in her direction. "She shouldn't have been cursed with it in the first place." Buffy didn't reply, but he could see in her eyes that she disagreed. She'd never understand, though. Dru had been innocent. Dru had been his.

He should have realized then that another shard of them had shattered.

And if you're truly honest

You deserve better than me

You need someone to make you complete

Not somebody who will leave

It had started with something akin to a dream. An absent thought that had barely taken shape before slipping away barely remembered. A niggle of doubt and a whisper of encouragement, like the devil on his shoulder.

Once the seed had been planted, it proved impossible for him to shake. Perhaps his place wasn't with Buffy by his side after all. When Whistler had come and dragged him out of the gutters, it had been for the purpose of aiding the Slayer, not bedding her. Not shacking up with her and falling in love with her.

Perhaps she was not so much his purposeas she was the thing that would lead him to his purpose. His staying with her, it wasn't to his detriment. No, he could continue on for the rest of her short life. Even if she managed to make it to a ripe old age, it was only a drop in the ocean for him. It would be difficult to watch her age and die, but he would bear it and move on. That was what convinced him that he wasn't right for her.

She deserved someone who would love her for every single thing she had to offer. For all her strengths and, more importantly, all her flaws. That person wasn't him, and he suspected that some part of her knew it even if she'd never admit it. Even if she'd never leave him. Too loyal, too in love with the thought of their forbidden, perfect love.

He watched from the shadows as she laughed with her friends at one of the few tables the Bronze boasted. He saw that even has her lips smiled, her eyes were sad. Like she no longer knew how to give all of herself to a moment. He watched as Spike- who he'd decided against killing but had most definitely gone out of his way to avoid over the months he'd been in town- sauntered to Buffy's table and struck up a conversation with Oz.

He couldn't help but notice how all of Buffy's attention seemed to turn to the vampire. How her laugh seemed a bit more genuine when it was Spike that said something she found funny. With Spike in town, desperate in his sudden dedication to aid her rather than slay her, he wouldn't be leaving her a man down. She'd have a pair of super-powered hands to have her back.

He could attribute a long list of flaws to Spike's character, but lack of loyalty was not one of them. He might not be who Angel would have chosen as an ally for her, but beggars can't be choosers, and he was begging off.

So I've got to go and leave

It's best for us both; you'll see

It's easier to run than face everyone

Can you hear where I'm coming from?

"Angel?" he heard her call out as the front door clicked shut. He felt as though something had a stranglehold on his gut as he drew in a deep, unneeded breath and wrapped his fingers around his bag before walking out of their room and facing her in the foyer, the sound of his boots against the marble floors seemed to echo around him.

She had just finished hanging her jacket up when she turned towards him, a bright smile on her face and her eyes twinkling in a way he'd rarely seen in the last year or two. He forced himself to breathe deeply, confirming with his nose what his eyes already knew. She'd been patrolling with Spike. Her smile fell as her eyes landed on the duffle bag in his hand.

"Angel?" she asked again, a hint of fear in her tone that time. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Buffy." His voice strangled as the weight of what he was about to do truly caught up with him. "Buffy, I have to leave." He forced the words out.

She frowned at him, not comprehending what he was really saying. "Okay. Is everything okay? Do you need me to come with you? I can get packed in five minutes. Let me just call Giles really quick," she said in her quick, decisive way. She really had grown so much in the years he'd known her.

He quickly shook his head, and when he replied, his tone was more curt than intended. "No."

"No?" she echoed, dread infusing her question and bright green eyes widening in disbelief.

It felt like he was chewing on the glass as he forced the words out. "I mean that I'm leaving Sunnydale. For good." He hesitated. "I'm leaving.…" he cut himself off, but it was too late.

"Me," she whispered as tears pooled in her eyes. "You're leaving me."

"I'm sorry, Buffy," he said softly, turning his eyes away from the betrayal blazing in hers.

"What did I do wrong? I thought we were happy." A choked sob escaped her mid-sentence. The cowardly part of Angel- the part that he'd never fully managed to shake off- wished that he'd just left a note and disappeared into the night while she'd still been out.

He forced himself to meet her desperate gaze. "Did you?" he asked calmly, his voice low and serious. Her mouth gaped open for a moment before closing. She shook her head in disbelief and opened her mouth again.

Her watery eyes were full of heartbreaking sincerity. "Yes."

Sorrow deepened within Angel as he allowed himself to fully realize what he'd done to her. "You haven't been," he told her softly. "You barely smile anymore. You don't joke or laugh. I don't make you happy, Buffy. I hold back from you and deserve better than that."

"So stop holding back and just let me love you!" she exploded, whipping her arms out frantically.

The frustration mounted in him, too, even though he knew she didn't deserve it. "I can't. I wish I could. I really do, but I can't. It's just...not in me."

"Do you love me?"

His eyes closed, and the words fought against him, razor-sharp fingers clawing at his throat as though they didn't want to be voiced. "Not enough."

He didn't need to open his eyes to watch her fall apart. He heard the thump of her knees hitting the hard, cold floor. Felt the chill in the air as she broke open at his feet.

Whenever the light hits your face

I cannot unsee every mistake

It's easier to run than face everyone

Now that the worst has been done

He didn't know how long they stayed there like that, him standing still as stone as she tore herself open, trying to understand what he'd done to her. There were a million and one ways he could have handled the situation, and he was fairly certain he'd chosen the worst of them. The woman he thought he'd loved more than life itself was hurt, and it was his fault- and he didn't care enough to fix it. Maybe he just realized that there was nothing left to fix.

It occurred to him that he should call Joyce or Willow. Someone who could come help pick up the pieces. His fingers flexed as his gaze darted to the phone, but he stayed still. That cowardly part of him winning out that time. He'd forced himself to face her, but he couldn't face them too.

Not in the face of Willow's unwavering support of them or Joyce's quiet condemnation. He'd proven them wrong and right, respectively, and he'd done it in the worst of ways.

"So that's it?" she finally spoke again, breaking him out of his internal war. Her voice was rough and broken. "No discussion, no trying to fix it? You're just giving up?" The anger was surging up in her now. Good. He preferred that to the crying.

"There's nothing left to fix, Buffy. I've been over it and over it. I wish things were different, I really do, but they're not."

"You've been over it," she seethed. "You never once said anything about it to me."

"Honestly, I thought that you felt it too." He shrugged helplessly. "You need someone who will give you everything, Buffy, not someone who…" he trailed off with a wave of his hand.

"Who will leave?" she spat out, angrily wiping her eyes. He kept quiet as he gave a simple nod. That's exactly what he was going to say. She shook her head at him, no longer trying to catch his gaze. Her tone lacked inflection when she spoke again. "Get out."

Relief swelled within him, and he gave one final nod as he skirted around her, the bag still in hand, and opened the front door. "I really am sorry, Buffy," he repeated softly before closing the door behind him. He pretended not to hear the renewed sobs as he forced himself to walk away and not look back.

We moved too fast, the time can't keep up

We try to make it last, but the moment's gone

So we're coasting by with these anxious eyes

Looking for a place to hide

A voice answered after the third ring. "Hello?" Angel took a deep breath.

"Hey Giles, it's Angel," he said lowly. The silence on the other end was stifling, and he drank the small amount of whiskey still in his tumbler.

"What do you want?" Angel winced at the venom in the other man's tone.

"I just wanted to give you my new information. Just in case you need my help with anything," the vampire replied tersely. "I've settled in L.A.." He counted the seconds until he could hang up as he stiffly gave the watcher his new contact information.

Giles snorted on the other end. "Couldn't you have at least had the decency to move further away?" he asked derisively, but Angel heard the familiar scratching of a pen and knew the watcher was making a note of his new living arrangements.

Angel didn't answer, pausing momentarily before giving voice to his question. "How is she?"

"Better without you," came the harsh reply, followed by a click and the dial tone.

Angel set his phone down with a sigh. "I deserved that," he muttered to himself as he poured himself a new glass.

We're walking down a dead end road

A place of love that feels so cold

I'm sorry for the part I played

I wish your heart didn't have to break

But that's over now

He'd forged a new life for himself in L.A. A good, fulfilling life, likely the life Whistler had always meant for him to have. He had a good friend in Doyle, and Cordelia had somehow started working for him after she'd been killed off a daytime soap and had failed to land another role before her funds dried up. Doyle was also his link to the Powers that Be, his visions consistently leading them to their next mission.

It had been over a year since he'd left Buffy behind in Sunnydale, and he hadn't spoken to her since. Giles had called him once a few months back, asking him to keep his ears open for any information on a hell god they were facing. The call had been curt and short. The answer to his question on if they needed his help had been a resounding no. That was the only update he'd gotten on her life since leaving.

Once Wesley had joined their little team, he'd gotten the former watcher started researching anything he could find on hellgods when they weren't bogged down with their own cases. Nothing had come up until Doyle had been rocked back with a vision.

"It's your ex," the Irishman said when he shook off the pain. "I think I just saw her death."

Dread coiled up in Angel, and he'd wasted no time climbing in his car and racing down the streets toward the town that had once been his home. Back to the woman that had once been his salvation.

The air had crackled as soon as he'd crossed the town line. That heavy feeling of magic was everywhere, and no soul was in sight. He followed his senses until he reached the epicenter of the battle. Or what had been the battle, anyway.

The scooby gang was battered and bruised but still standing. Willow was leaning heavily on Oz while Xander held an unconscious Anya tightly in his arms. Giles was limping towards the young adults as Angel darted towards them.

"Where is Buffy?" He was frantic as he scanned the wreckage for the former love of his life.

"Angel?" Willow asked incredulously.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Xander asked.

"A friend had a vision of Buffy dying...I came to help," he said distantly. "Where is she?"

A flash lit up the dark night, and two figures came tumbling through. Angel's stomach clenched as he caught sight of long golden hair as Buffy rose to her feet. Any move towards her was halted when he saw her reach down and help Spike up.

The younger vampire was bleeding profusely, and Angel watched as Buffy looked him over before bringing her hands up to his face and pulling it down to hers. He looked away as she kissed him with a passion Angel didn't ever remember her gracing him with.

"We did it!" Buffy yelled out victoriously as she and Spike slowly maneuvered over to the group of them. Her smile vanished the moment she caught sight of him. "What are you doing here, Angel?"

His gaze darted between her frowning face and Spike's amused one. He shuffled from side to side. "Ah, someone had a vision that you were...dying. So I came to help."

Xander snorted. "Too late, blood breath."

"Yeah, as you can see, I'm fine, and the world is saved, so you can just go back home," Buffy said shortly. "I'm gonna get Spike patched up and fed. You guys are okay here?" she asked her friends.

"Yeah, go take care of the wounded hero," Xander said with a nod and a smirk as Spike snorted out a laugh.

"Thanks for coming, Angel," Buffy said, addressing him once more. "But we're fine here."

"Ta gramps!" Spike saluted as he allowed the Slayer to lead him away.

He watched them go, unable to quite name what he was feeling. "She's happy," Willow suddenly spoke up from beside him. He looked over and saw that she and Oz were the only two left. "I think it was pretty poopy how you did what you did," she told him with her too-sweet glare. "But I get why you did it. She wasn't happy, and she was the only one that couldn't see it."

Angel sighed. "But she's happy now? With...Spike?" he forced himself to grit out.

"Yeah, man," Oz confirmed. "She's happy."

"With Spike," Willow added with a resolute nod.

Angel nodded. "Good. That's all I wanted for her," he said softly as he turned and melted back into the shadows.

So I've gotta go and leave

It's best for us both you'll see