I can feel his heavy stare, the weight of his soul. Angel's whole body jolts as I spin around. Those familiar dark eyes widen as they survey me from head to toe and despite my internal pep talk, my vision blurs as tears fill my eyes.
"Angel?"
His arms are around me in a breath. A moment. A heartbeat.
"Buffy," he says, one hand drawing me closer while the other tangles in my hair. There is so much that I want to say, but I'm aware of how much words would fail me. Too aware.
The secrets, lies, crawling out of my grave… Heaven.
"I can't believe it's you," Angel says, his forehead dropping to mine. "Are you okay?" he asks. "When did this happen? How?"
He's frantic and my head shakes as I wipe a tear from his cheek. "It's a long story," I say, swallowing down the lump that has formed.
Angel almost smiles. "I've got time," he says, nodding toward the small hotel.
I know better than to ask if this is a good idea. "How long can you stay?" I ask instead.
Once again, his lips curl into one of those half-smiles I've missed so much.
"Forever?"
My eyes close. How long have I waited to hear him say that? How many nights did I spend staring out at my window hoping and praying, begging the universe for him to appear?
"Angel-" My voice falters but it doesn't matter because he's already shaking his head.
"However long you need me," he says, brushing his lips back across mine. "You're still my world."
There's a hunger in his eyes, a wildness that I haven't seen since before my birthday, and it sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. "I don't have any plans."
Another smirk. "Come on," he says, and his hands don't leave me as we cross the parking lot.
"I need to see you," Angel said, his voice thick and deep. "I'm on my way. I'll come there-"
"Not here." He couldn't come here. My house was overflowing with people. Not to mention Spike. Between him, Giles, and Dawn someone would be watching our every move.
"I'll take Mom's car. I'll meet you… somewhere."
I'm still trying to figure out how somewhere morphed into a hotel, but where else were we supposed to go? His soul is safe, or it will be once I tell him what happened. How do you explain to someone that you were plucked from the only peace you have ever known? That my time on this planet was supposed to be done.
"One bed is fine," Angel says, passing the man behind the counter a credit card.
I bite back a laugh. Since when did Angel carry a credit card? It had to be Cordelia's doing. Credit cards, Google, I'm just waiting for him to pull out a cell phone. Angel is a carbon copy of the man I knocked down in the alley, and yet he's changed as much as I have. Is this our punishment? Are we destined to live out our lives in parallel? Our thank you for saving the world.
"Elevators are down the hall," The man says, passing Angel back his credit card along with a key to the room.
Our room.
Our room with one bed.
"Second floor, to the left."
Angel's fingers twine back with mine. He leads the way as we silently walk down the winding hall. The elevator ride is silent but his hand squeezes mine as the metal doors slide shut. It's not until we're in the room that the tension between us rises once again.
Cool lips brush over mine as my back slams into the door, closing it behind us.
I'm transported to another time, another place. Before curses and death. Before heartbreaks and trips to Hell dimensions. Back when my whole world ended and began with this man.
"Are you really here?" Angel asks, his forehead pressed back against mine. "I keep waiting for you to disappear."
I force a small smile as I scratch at one of my favorite places just above his nape. When I heard his voice on the other end of the line, for the first time since I dove off that tower I could breathe again. If there was anyone who could understand what I was going through, it was Angel. Despite the years between us, he's still my rock. The one pillar I have left in this cruel and cold world.
"I'm here," I promise, pressing my lips back to his. My legs wrap around his waist, and Angel flashes me one of those rare megawatt smiles that have always set me on fire.
Strong arms hold me close as we float through the room. His coat is gone with a shove. My blouse isn't far behind, and by the time we land on the bed the buttons to his shirt have been undone. An alarm bell sounds as Angel's mouth travels lower, leaving long open-mouthed kisses down my neck before dropping down to the valley between my breasts.
"I just need to feel you," he says, as if reading my mind.
It doesn't matter how many lovers I take, no one will ever come close to commanding my body the way he does. We are each other's perfect companions and therein lies our problem.
"Angel," I say with a groan. "Promise me this is okay."
There's a heavy sigh, and then Angel is hovering above me, arms braced on either side. After he returned from hell, even during our heaviest makeout sessions, we avoided this position. We never discussed it, but it went without saying. It was too intimate. Too reminiscent of the night he took my virginity.
Angel's nose brushes against mine. "You still my girl?"
I nod. "Always."
"Do you trust me?" he asks, his voice cracking slightly.
I should deflect this conversation, but I just don't have it in me.
"With everything."
The corner of Angel's lips tugs, but then the air shifts and I can feel the weight of his words before they roll from his tongue. "I love you," he says, in that same tone from the night of my birthday.
"I love you," I say, and just like that, all those long years apart peel away.
My thighs spread as Angel once again sinks lower, and a sound I barely recognize tumbles out as I fall into a fit of giggles when he nips at my side.
"What are you doing," I ask as my pants and underwear disappear.
Another alarm bell sounds and my head lifts from the plush pillow but Angel's eyes only darken.
"Reclaiming what's mine."
Without breaking eye contact, his velvety tongue rolls over my clit. My fingers tangle in his dark hair, twisting and tugging on the short locks. A silent plea for more. This isn't the first time Angel has got me in this position. We became quite adventurous in the weeks leading up to the loss of his soul, and more than once we wound up just like this after his return from hell.
Though not one of those instances compares to the way he is feasting on me tonight. Angel's chest rumbles something between a growl and a pur as his grip on me tightens. My legs twitch with every flick of his talented tongue and when one of his long digits slips inside me, a wave of heat spreads down to the tips of my toes.
Only Angel is capable of taking me to these heights. He always had a way of making this climb feel neverending, knowing just when to pull away or lighten his touch to keep me dangling.
He admitted on that long lost day I'm not supposed to remember that this was his favorite version of me. How he used to torture himself that last year in Sunnydale, lying awake, trapped in the mansion reliving every one of our most intimate moments.
"Oh God." A long moan breaks free as Angel introduces a second thick finger. "Don't stop," I say, my hips rolling. "Please don't stop."
My eyes screw shut as I grind unabashedly against his tongue, his fingers. I can't get close enough as the first sparks of pleasure bloom. My mind blanks as my world once again reduces to nothing but him.
My hands trade his hair for the sheets, my fingers twisting in the cool fabric as every muscle draws tighter and tighter until my back arches clear off the plush mattress. One second I'm convinced I'm right back at death's door as my hips struggle to match the rhythm of his tongue, but in my next breath, everything goes lax.
The freefall is nothing short of heaven, bright lights explode beneath my eyelids as memory after memory plays through my mind. Our first kiss, first date. That Halloween when things got out of hand, how Angel guided me through my first-ever orgasm. Days later when I finally worked up the nerve to touch him. How he felt like silk stretched over steel. The way his jaw clenched as he grasped for control.
The weeks leading up to what would become both the best and worst night of my life. How we were both trembling as Angel settled over me and the sharp pain as he broke through the barrier of my virginity.
The hopeless longing once he returned from hell.
My trip to Los Angeles.
The Mohra Demon.
Angel's heartbeat.
My breath leaves in harsh gasps as euphoric delectation morphs into a sadness, raw and aching. My shoulders shake as my whole body convulses and harsh sobs take over.
"Shhh," Angel says, somehow hovering back above me.
"It's okay. I'm here. I'm right here." Angel says as he pulls me against him and rolls to his side. His lips press against my hair, my forehead.
I have to be the first woman on the planet to break down mid-orgasm but Angel only holds me until my tears subside and my heart rate returns to normal.
"Talk to me," he says, tucking the thick comforter around us before returning to rubbing soft lines down my spine. "What can I do?"
I scratch at the soft stubble on his jaw. "You're already doing it," I say, leaning my head against his chest. While the silence used to comfort me, now it's almost deafening.
Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
The memory of his heart beating echoes throughout the quiet room. I couldn't wait to get here, to see him. To tell him about heaven, to rage at him for taking yet another decision away from me. But what good would that do?
Like so many other things in our relationship, Angel can't fix this. There's no changing the fact that I was in Heaven. Just like there is no way to get back those lost hours when he was human. The only thing that telling him would do is hurt him, and I don't want to do that. I never want to do that.
Angel sighs, "Do you remember anything about where you were?"
"No," I say, tilting back just enough to look at him. The lie is heavy and Angel's eyes narrow in a way that makes me wonder if he believes me.
"Good," he finally says, dropping another kiss on my forehead. "It's better that way. Willow mentioned it was Glorificus. The things I read-"
"You read about Glory?"
Angel nods. "I didn't do anything else. I read about her Hell dimension. The key. Studied every piece of text that Willow could recall and some others that I found myself."
"The key?" I ask. More than once I thought about reaching out to Angel when we were hiding Dawn from Glory but by the time I tried, his office had all but been abandoned.
"Willow filled me in about Dawn," he says. "At least I think she did. That day is still fuzzy."
I don't have to ask what day. Until this moment I haven't stopped to think about how Angel took the news that I was gone. "Did you run away too?"
"All the way to Sri Lanka," Angel says with a sigh.
"The mountain?" I ask and Angel almost smiles again.
"Close but no. You're thinking of Everest, though that probably would have been the better choice," he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
"I didn't move for days. I don't remember Willow leaving or getting in my bed, but I laid in that dark room replaying every conversation, every memory… I stared at that ceiling for so long that I almost convinced myself I had hallucinated the whole ordeal. Pylea, Willow. So many times I picked up my phone and dialed your number but I couldn't do it. Everything was a reminder that you weren't here. That my whole purpose was gone."
Tears slip out of the corner of my eyes and roll down my cheeks. "Angel-"
"I know," he says, shaking his head. "But it's the truth. I contemplated every possibility. Sunlight, a stake. Leaping off the damn roof. I was determined to end it all until I realized that even in death there was no guarantee I would find you. That's when the rage took over. Suddenly sucking the world into hell didn't sound like such a bad idea. After all, what chance did humanity stand without you? It was best not to let them suffer."
Angel's eyes are dark but his voice is steady. He has never been one to exaggerate and a chill rolls through me as I imagine the destruction. Angel rolls me back beneath him. He's cool and hard and my thighs spread as he settles between them. Oh, how I wish that we could be selfish, just for tonight. Just this once.
A sound escapes. A low groan from deep within his throat. "It wasn't until I realized that being here," he says, "On this Earth was the closest I would ever get to you, that I finally broke down. I didn't even tell anyone I was leaving. Just left a note and took off to the holiest place that would have me. "
My nose wrinkles. "You went to a church?"
"A temple."
My fingers trace down his jaw, across the slope of his neck, and over the light stubble growing before tugging his lips back to mine. His tongue slides against mine with absolutely no hesitation. He tastes like copper and mint, just like he always has and his taut muscles flex as my hands venture lower, and groans as I unbutton his pants.
"I just need to feel you."
Angel full-on grins as I toss his own words right back at him. His sculpted arms frame me as he trades my lips for my neck, though when he reaches the place his mark should be, he pauses. A sound akin to a growl rolls from deep within him. He never explained the mark, and I never asked, but I knew what it was. What it meant. What its absence means.
My neck stretches as my head tilts to the side. "One of the side effects of being sewn back together. No more scars."
I smashed the mirror until my knuckles were bloody when I realized it was gone. That mark was as much a part of me as my soul and was a glaring reminder that no matter what Willow or my friends thought, not all parts of me made it back.
Angel's eyes flash yellow, but his face doesn't change and his fangs stay hidden. "A small price to pay," he says as his head drops to my shoulder.
I'm tempted to argue, to beg him to mark me again, to lay his claim. Leave a warning for the next vampire brave enough to get close to me. "I hate it," I say instead. "It feels like a part of me is missing. Like you're not with me anymore."
Angel's head shakes. "I am with you. Always."
His lips press tenderly against the place where his scar should be.
Underneath our existential exterior, we are simply Buffy and Angel.
Warriors.
Lovers.
Soulmates.
Soft lips press against my breast, nipping lightly at the sensitive flesh and my nipples harden into tight peaks, begging for his attention.
"Do you trust me?" Angel asks, his eyebrows lifting.
A flash of mischief dances through his chocolate eyes, and I'm powerless to do anything besides nod. We understand the rules, there's no use in repeating them. We are too aware of what's on the line.
Another beat and Angel's fingertips dig into my hips. His hold is steady as he flips me around. The cotton sheets bunch beneath the weight of my knees and my hands land unsteadily against the plush pillows as a memory from that long-lost day surfaces.
Skin to skin. Angel thrust deeply as the first waves of pleasure broke. With a yelp, I was flipped around and left achingly empty as Angel positioned himself behind me. Thick fingers danced up my spine as he eased me into position. I realized what he was up to, just a moment before he pressed inside my last unexplored expanse. Pleasure morphed into pain as Angel's hand slipped around my waist, his fingers circling firmly as he forced his thick cock inch by inch. Never once had I ever even entertained the idea, not even in my darkest fantasies did I imagine such a thing. The pressure is almost unbearable as our bodies collide, but then a desperate gasp escaped Angel and I decided it was my new favorite sound. Words were beyond our comprehension, though they weren't needed. It only took a moment for my body to adjust, for my hips to take on a life of their own, rotating and grinding as every last one of my insecurities melted away.
The tick of his zipper pulls me back to the present. A sound that will always remind me of him and I cast a glance over my shoulder just in time to witness his boxers falling to the floor. My gaze drifts, he's thick and hard, just like in my favorite memories.
Goosebumps rise on my flesh and my whole body trembles in need.
"We can't," I say, though instead of sounding harsh or firm, my voice is closer to a whine.
Angel drops a single kiss on my back as he settles behind me. "We're not," he says, his strained voice barely more than a whisper.
He sounds confident but his movements lead me to believe otherwise. A master of control, Angel's thighs slide against my own as he spreads me wider. The bed dips beneath his weight, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning.
Heavy palms smooth down my spine and over the curve of my ass before disappearing once again. However, before I can protest a sensation that will forever be kept in my most sacred memories emerges.
"Don't move," Angel huskily instructs. "Don't even breathe."
My fingers twist in the sheets, in the blanket, before stretching out to grab onto the slotted headboard. My knuckles turn white as my upper half falls forward, and my sensitive nipples collide with the soft mattress as a noise that can only be described as primal rolls off my tongue.
Angel grunts as his cock slides from my pulsating clit to my achingly empty entrance. Ever the masochist, he holds the position, perfectly aligned against me. Despite my best efforts, instinct takes over and I rock ever so slightly. The motion is subtle, almost fleeting, but Angel's chest rumbles as he growls out his appreciation.
"Sometimes I convince myself that I imagined this," Angel says. "People aren't supposed to fit so fucking perfectly."
Perfect. The word makes me shudder.
I gasp. "Angel, we can't," I say, this time with more force. "I can't lose you."
I can't face Angelus.
Not like this. Not again. Not when my own will to live is almost nonexistent.
"Do you have any idea how much I missed this?" Angel asks. "How much I missed you. I thought you were gone. I thought-"
"I know," I say as my body betrays me, my hips shifting closer. "But we can't do this..."
Angel palms my breast as his strong arm slides around me. His body folds over my own, his lips press against the back of my neck before he whispers against my ear. "This is where that trust comes in."
Before I can respond, Angel surges forward and my eyes slam shut as I adjust to the intrusion. My memories have done him no justice. Not even on my birthday did I feel more full, more complete.
Angel's corded muscles flex as he rolls his thumb over my nipple. "You still my girl?"
His voice is thick, and I don't have to see him to know that he is also close to tears.
"Always," I say, turning my head just enough to graze his lips with my own.
I'm rewarded with a series of long deep thrusts so powerful my knees tremble and my stomach coils as an unparalleled orgasm builds.
Angel's chest rumbles and his lips leave a trail of blazing fire as he kisses my neck, over my shoulder. His large hands leave my breast and smooth past my sensitive sides. Strong fingers massage tense muscles as Angel settles on his knees. With a steady grip on my hips, he moves me forward. His cock withdrawals inch by breathtaking inch until that delicious pressure morphs into insatiable longing.
"You're so fucking close," Angel says, more to himself than to me.
He's not wrong. Even the looming threat of Angelus doesn't stop me from rocking back. To his credit, Angel lets me play for a moment, relinquishes that tedious control, and lets me set a pace all of my own.
It would be so easy to let go, to lose myself in this moment and fall off this cliff he's driven me to but I can't. Not until I know for sure that his soul is safe.
"How-"
Angel growls and yanks me up into a sitting position. He thrusts wildly as my hands twist behind him to tangle in his hair. "This isn't about me," he says through gritted teeth. "Now, remind me how it feels to watch you come apart in my arms."
His words are my undoing. My fingers twist in his short locks as he bites into my jugular with blunt teeth. Everything grows impossibly warm as fresh beads roll down my chest.
Angel guides me back to the soft sheets, and my hands stretch out in search of the sturdy headboard.
The slick sound of our flesh colliding reverberates around the otherwise quiet room. Angel takes me right back to that magnificent edge, but instead of drawing me back, one of his hands snakes between my thighs. He doesn't waste time, his long digits expertly rolling and tweaking my swollen clit.
"I love you. I love you," I say, utterly powerless against the words tumbling out. I don't want to let go. That would mean that this moment, this stolen moment has come to an end, but my body is too wound up. Too many years have passed since I was granted the small reprieve of release with my soulmate inside me.
Angel's voice cracks, though his words are lost as I finally go flying off the edge of that blissful peak. The brewing warmth in my belly churns into molten lava. Sounds turn to color and sparks of pleasure transform into a neverending wave of heat.
I want all of him. His fangs in my throat. His cock erupting inside me. I want him to drink from me, to feel that rush of euphoria as we once again share in that blissful union that is beyond comprehension.
"That's my girl," Angel says. A truth that is both my burden and my salvation.
Angel's thrusts take on an unsteady rhythm as he slams into me with more determination and I say a quick prayer to whoever in the universe might be listening because I don't have what it takes to stop him.
Images of Angelus dance through my mind as reality settles back around me. The things he did. The people he killed.
Jenny.
Acathla.
The look on Angel's face when my sword pierced through his chest.
I've nearly resigned myself to our impending fate when Angel shoves away from me. I'm back to being achingly empty but in the next breath, I'm flipping through the air. Angel's lips seal back around clit as my knees land beside his head.
I'm so sensitive and overworked that every flick of his tongue causes my legs to twitch. The sensation is almost too much to bear but just as I open my mouth to protest, I catch sight of his cock. He's long and thick, twitching towards his belly button.
My hands are reaching for him before I come to a decision. As though there was ever a decision to be made in the first place. My movements are far from graceful as my hands seal around his thick base. I stroke up, then down, and up again. I'm rewarded with a fresh bead of moisture appearing from his weeping tip.
I've only ever done this with Angel, and never after we made love. He seems to sense my hesitation, however, as the gentle strokes of his tongue cease.
"You don't have-"
I decide not to let him finish that sentence. My tongue darts out and licks the silky flesh before my mouth seals around him and Angel's chest expands as long unnecessary breaths leave him.
Perfect happiness might be off the table, but this has always been fair game.
Tears sting my eyes as I force my throat to relax. I take him as deep as I possibly can before releasing him, my hands following the motions of my mouth. I'm so wrapped up in my task at hand that I barely even register the brand-new release building within me.
"Fuck," Angel says, pulling away from me long enough to speak. "I need you. I've always fucking needed you."
His cock pulses within my palm. He's so fucking close, but then so am I. One hand cups his tight sack as I take him deeply once again.
The things this man can do with his mouth should be illegal, or better yet impossible. His tongue is almost talented enough to make me forget about how badly I wish he was still inside me.
Almost.
My throat burns as I take him so deep my nose brushes against his base. Angel's chest rumbles, but we're both reduced to a series of grunts and groans as raw instinct takes over and long digits stretch inside me as his cock swells to an impossible girth.
Angel's voice reaches my ears but I'm beyond capable of processing what he said. A warning? A proclamation? One final plea for me to tumble over this cliff in ecstasy beside him. Whatever he said, it works.
My body convulses just as Angel erupts down my throat.
"Hey," Angel says once he has me righted against him. His lips tugged into the smallest smile.
"Hey back." My fingers dance over his brow as I curl into his side. My head once again rested against his chest.
Angel's lips press against my forehead. "Are you okay?"
I nod. "Just thinking that I should come back from the dead more often."
Angel smirks. "Not funny."
I don't respond. Instead, I pull the blanket higher and a yawn overtakes me as memories from my seventeenth birthday flash by. The way he held me, how we held each other. Those brief sated moments right before sleep claimed us. How we thought it was our beginning when in fact it had been the beginning of our end.
"Sleep," Angel says as though he can tell where my mind has gone. "We can figure everything out later."
My heart skips a beat, but I don't question him. Only give a small nod as my hand slides around his waist. There was a time when I would have clung to that promise. Where I would have hung onto the hope that we might have a chance, that we could figure out how to make this work with him in Los Angeles and me in Sunnydale.
"I love you," Angel says one more time, and just like earlier, I vow the same.
Even though Angel's chest doesn't rise or fall, I know with absolute certainty the second he succumbs to exhaustion. The small patterns his thumb was tracing cease as his muscles relax.
For once I'm afforded the luxury of watching him sleep. My gaze drifts from his rarely tousled hair down to his chiseled jaw and I commit every last detail to the deepest parts of my memory.
The curve of his lashes. The way his lips just barely part. How even asleep his hold on me is steady. Never have I felt more safe, more loved, and as my eyes grow heavy I allow myself to get lost in the fantasy he painted. The idea that what we're doing, the intimacy we've regained might carry on tomorrow.
My dreams are filled with whispered promises. Angel's large frame aligned with mine. We alternate from familiar settings in Sunnydale to a hotel that I have only ever imagined. Nothing makes sense and yet nothing has ever made more sense.
I awake with a jolt only to find Angel still sleeping peacefully beside me. Barely an hour has passed, though I'm not surprised. Sleep has not welcomed me since my return from the grave. As much as I would love to stay curled up beside Angel, that simply isn't a possibility. Last night was more than I ever expected, but we were reckless.
We teetered on the edge of going too far when he first came back from hell, but even during our most desperate nights we didn't come close to crossing the lines we blew through only hours ago.
I watch the neon green numbers change with each passing minute. If only time could be frozen for just a little while longer. Unfortunately, despite being a slayer, time control is a power that I am sorely lacking so it is with great reluctance that I inch myself away from Angel's arms.
Never have I had to be the one to walk away, and as I gather my clothes I'm struck with a new perspective and understanding. A glimpse of our relationship through Angel's eyes. My heart hurts and my eyes sting but there is no more time for tears right now. I have to get out of here before he wakes up.
My escape is our only chance to avoid another devastating heartbreak.
Angel groans as I slip my shirt over my head and for just a moment I'm convinced that my escape attempt has been thwarted, but then he mumbles my name and rolls onto his stomach. The Gryffon on his shoulder flexes and my fingers burn the with need to reach out and trace it.
But I don't. I can't.
I'm doing this as much for Angel as myself. More even. After all, it is his soul hanging in the balance. He will understand, at least that is what I tell myself as I scribble a quick note on the hotel stationary and gently set it on the nightstand closest to him. He's sacrificed so much over the years, taken on the brunt of the pain to spare me.
If only I had known how difficult it is to be the one who walks away, the deciding factor. It would be so easy to slip back beneath the warm blankets and pretend like enough has changed. To minimize the curse and act as though we were in control.
As if the last few hours weren't a haunting reminder of how little resolve we have when it comes to each other. No. One of us has to make the hard decisions, and this time it's my turn. With one final glance at my sleeping lover, I quietly tiptoe out the door.
The click of the lock is a punch to my gut. It feels like I am betraying him. Somehow I make it to the end of the hall before the hollowed confidence gives way to the mind-numbing pain. My knees shake as I step back onto the elevator, and by the time I make it to the parking lot hot salty tears flood my vision.
XXX
Angel
"Buffy?" My hand stretches across the cool sheets as new memories flash through my mind. The room is dark but there's a sliver of daylight peaking through the curtains and that's when I realize…
She's gone.
A roar manifests but I force it down. Every fiber in my being is commanding me to go after her. To pick up that phone and call Sunnydale. Storm her house and drag her back to Los Angeles with me.
I've seen Buffy broken. I've broken her, but there's something else. Something she's not telling me. Though, before I can gather my clothes her loopy handwriting catches my eye.
"Forever… Always forever… One day."