Destinies Entwined
by Callie

*I always think about you
I always will
I always wonder what might've been
If we could get time to just stand still
Oh well
It was the right train
But I guess we must've been off track
And I've been waiting for so long
But now I know you're never coming back

And so I'll give up giving in
Quit playing this game I can't win
I wish I could stop
But I don't know how
To give up giving in
Quit playing this game I can't win
I wish I could stop
But I don't know how
To begin
Gotta give up
It's never gonna be
Like it was before
The wolf is at my door
Gotta give up.....*

Buffy Summers brushed a strand of long silky blonde hair out of her face, squinting in the bright May California sun, and took out her stake. She approached the old warehouse cautiously, hazel eyes darting everywhere out of habit, but she strode with an air of confidence, and stopped, surveying the deserted area, watching for any sign of activity. The only movement was the dry dust that stirred with the breath of an invisible breeze, the same breeze that scooted a discarded cardboard box across the empty street with a dry rasping sound.

Not bothering to look, the Slayer rested a hand on her hips, ignoring the hot sun that beat down upon her head. Dry and hot. *Welcome to LA* She thought with an involuntary roll of her eyes. After so many years, slaying was a familiar routine. Of course, the Hellmouth offered no lack of demonic forces to battle, but after 12 years there she jumped at the opportunity for a change of scenery at every chance she got. Which was why when the tip off of a massive vampire nest in LA was left at the library, she left impulsively without checking with Giles first.

She knew the drill he’d want to double-check every source at least fifty million times. It wasn’t as if she didn’t appreciate his protectiveness, or see the reason behind his caution. They were, after all, part of what had kept her alive longer than any slayer in history. But she had no patience for them lately. She rolled her eyes in anticipation of the trademark lecture she would receive when she returned. For some reason, even at 28, Giles insisted on treating her like a child.

Her relationship with Giles was one of the many things in her life that had become old, restrictive. Even if he was no longer her watcher, and had not been for some time, it did not stop him from acting the part. It seemed like her life had fallen into a cycle. Everything seemed old, stale. Even fighting powerful new evil, saving the world, teaching PE at the school... it all seemed so empty, so hollow. Everyday, the same routine. Go to work the same old school she had attended since high school, though redecorated since her graduation, of course. Hanging out in the library with Giles when she wasn’t working.

Even her friends had noticed it. Xander, who had gone off traveling the country, working odd jobs, had noticed it when he stopped by to visit. Willow had noticed it, and she hadn’t even spoken to Willow in person in years, not since the wedding, a bittersweet affair for Buffy, for as happy as she was for her two friends, their overwhelming happiness and love always seem to accent everything she was never allowed to have. She couldn’t help but be jealous. Not of Oz, of course, nice a guy as he was, he simply wasn’t her type, but of what they had. Everything. As much as she convinced herself it wasn’t, it was really the perfect picture of what she had always wanted, what she had always assumed she would have someday, when she had been a child, daydreaming of the future before she had found better things to do. But that’s all it was. Just another empty childhood dream.

Buffy gave a tired sigh unsuccessfully attempting to shrug off the depressing thoughts that hovered over her like a perpetual storm. Somehow, even over the phone, from as far away as Washington, where she was working on her doctorate at some prestigious university, Willow had been able to pick up this lack of enthusiasm. The funk, as Xander called it.

She recalled a conversation she had overhead between Giles and Xander earlier that month when Xander’s travels had brought him by once more. She had walked in and over heard them in Giles office, Xander's voice, ringing through the quiet library.

* "I’m telling you, something’s wrong. It’s more than being off her game. She’s out of the game. She’s not even on the bench. She’s in the locker rooms showering."
"Now, now, lets not be too hasty.... I think we’re all allowed to feel a little down in the dumps, as you delightful Americans put it."
"Of course, the 12 years you’ve lived here doesn’t put *you* in that category....."
She could practically hear Giles giving Xander the look. "But that’s not the point, my point being," Xander continued, "there’s something wrong. I know her. Of all the classes I’ve failed, I got an A in Buffy, and she’s in an official funk."
"I’m not denying that’s she’s been a little out of sorts lately, but lets give her a little time, shall we?"
"Fine..... Look, you’re the watcher guy. You’re the one who’s around her the most, but I’m telling you, I’ve been here all of one day, and I can tell something’s wrong. She... she’s lacking that ‘Buffyness’ that makes her Buffy,"
"I’ll be sure to note that in my official file, now, if you please, Buffy should be here soon and I’d appreciate it if...."
"Give her some time off. Let me take her with me. I’m sure after some time on the road she’ll be as good as new..."
"Xander" Giles interrupted. "Taking her away isn’t the answer. You aren’t her knight in shining armor. You can’t solve all her problems, simply with a wave of a magic wand. I’m afraid this is one thing she’s just going to have to work through on her own."
"And if she doesn’t?"
"Well, yes, ah... lets think positively, shall we? Buffy is a strong woman. We’ve seen her fight darker demons than this, though not all of them were physical, I assure you, given time, she’ll be her old self again...." *

Buffy set her jaw at the memory. They were right, she was off her game lately. She lacked the spirit and spunk that had made her a legend. She never felt like quipping and punning on the job anymore. She felt like a part of her was dying, being strangled by an unknown force. There was something missing, some nameless thing that she couldn’t describe, or didn’t want to.

The truth was, she was afraid to dwell on the reason nagging in the back of her mind. She sighed, as she glanced around the area again. Ten years. Ten years ago today. That was the last time she had seen him. She could still recall it vividly, as if it were yesterday. The way the smoke had curled around him, swallowing him into its depths, and he was gone. Every year, around this time, when the familiar buzz of excitement ran through the halls, and one senior class made way for the next, she always felt a certain empty longing. The other teachers had given up speculating as to why the PE teacher, who was always so popular with the students, never once attended a graduation ceremony. She always found an excuse to skip out, busying herself with other work, afraid to let her mind free to wander for a moment. Afraid if she did, that day, of all days, her mind would wander to _Him_.

They had told each other, and themselves, it was for the best. She had tried to move on. She had been through countless relationships, none of which were satisfying. None of them giving her what she was looking for so desperately. None of them fulfilling the gaping whole in her heart that ached whenever she thought of him. With each failed relationship, the answer she already knew to the question she didn’t dare to ask herself became more and more apparent. The only man she had, could, or ever would love was the man who was no where around, who had left without a trace ten years ago, whom she had no idea where he was, or if he was even still alive.

The man who loomed in her thoughts always in the back of her mind, no matter how violently she tried to shove him back, out of her mind, out of her heart. She was unsuccessful, ten years and counting. He wasn’t even a man. *Angel* Her heart literally ached at the thought of him, still strong in her mind.

Strange, that after ten years, the memories were still so vivid. She remembered his face, every crease, and every curve. She remembered how he smelled and felt, holding her in his strong arms how she always thought it odd that she should feel so safe and protected in the arms of the enemy. She remembered the sound of his voice, his lopsided soft smile, and the way he would look at her, like he was drinking her in. She closed her eyes, lost in the memories that crashed over her like a wave, threatening to drown her in their crushing power.

She remembered the last time they had spoken. Barely spoken. If she had known it was to be the last conversation they were to have, she might have said something else. Anything else, really. *He never even said goodbye* .... He had simply disappeared into the shadows from whence he came. Just like that. One look and he was gone, out of her life forever.

She shook her head, violently forcing the thoughts out of her mind. She had work to do, and she couldn’t afford to do this now she couldn’t let herself be distracted. It bothered her somewhat, that thinking of him could still do this to her, that he still had so much power over her, even after ten years. *I should be over him, I should be moving on. I should have moved on already. I should be past moving on. Damn it. Damn him... *

She grimaced. She didn’t mean that, really. She took control of herself again and walked forwards, blatantly, not bothering to hide her approach. Come and get me, she thought without enthusiasm. 28 years old. She couldn’t help thinking that perhaps there was a reason that slayers were not supposed to live this long. After so many years of fighting evil, over and over, it never got any less. She remembered a story she had heard, about a man forever cursed to push a big rock up a hill, and once he finally reached the top, it would roll back and he had to start all over. Sissy-face something. *I can identify with that. *

It seemed like whenever she seemed to reach a victory against one evil, another just as bad or worse popped up. It was a never-ending cycle. Lately, she had begun to think, *What's the point? Why do I keep getting up each day? What reason is there?* It wasn’t as if she was desperately needed as a Slayer anymore. The Watchers' council had their perfect pet Slayer some perky fresh faced 16 year old, who had enough spunk and eagerness to last them both the rest of their collective lives. She had no family of her own, no family at all really, not since her mother’s death, and no close friends that were around constantly anymore. They had all moved on to the next stage in their lives, while Buffy was trapped, a slave to her destiny. *What is my destiny anyway? Isn’t it a Slayer's destiny to die young? *

Buffy reached the warehouse, and stopped in front of the door. A thought hit her like a brick wall. It was time. Time to stop running. *Well I’m tired of running from my destiny.* "I’m not running anymore." Buffy said aloud resolutely. She didn’t feel as if she was giving up, quite the opposite. She had spent her whole life running from it prolonging the inevitable. It was time to move on. Time to embrace the fate that had previously invoked so much fear in her. Now it incited anticipation....peace.

Strangely, she didn’t feel afraid, or nervous. She felt an odd calm envelope her. For the first time in what seemed like years, she felt a surge of excitement, of adrenaline. This was going to be her last battle. *Might as well go out with a bang*, she thought, as she kicked open the door to old warehouse, which promptly came unhinged, and fell to the floor with a resonating thump. Holding up her stake, she smirked. "Hi honey, I’m home!" Buffy blinked at the huge mass of vampires that lay on the floor, or had, until the light flooded in to the musty old warehouse, driving the vampires closest to the door to jump up, hissing. She had never seen a clan this large before. To plunge into a nest of this number alone would be suicide. *Exactly.*

Buffy smiled, and walked in, grabbing the nearest vampire and staking it, before it was fully aware of what was happening. "How come no one invited me to the slumber party? I’m hurt, really." Ducking a punch, she returned it with one of her own, kicking her leg out behind her, catching another vampire in the gut. "Invitation must have gotten lost in the mail."

Buffy went to work punching and staking with renewed vigor, vampire after vampire. But as many as she staked, the number never seemed to dwindle. No sooner would she stake a vamp, than other one would step up to take its place. She was wearing down, a disadvantage her enemy lacked. There were just too many of them, closing in from all directions.

Her stake was knocked from her hands. She was knocked down, and her head spun. She felt her self being lifted off the floor by her neck her breathing becoming obstructed as she rasped for air, clawing at the hands that clutched her. Opening her eyes, she found herself staring into the face of an immensely pleased vampire, whose lips twisted into a malicious grin.

"Well well well, what have we here? So this is the famous Slayer. I wonder if they really do taste better with age." He chuckled as he lowered his fangs to her neck. She closed her eyes, bracing herself. *This is it. Game over*. With a gasp, she felt his sharp needled fangs sink into her soft skin. As everything faded to blackness, her lips weakly mumbled the name of the one person that came to mind. Her one regret. "Angel."

Angel made his way through the dark labyrinth of sewer tunnels his eyes at home in the velvet darkness that blanketed the dank, claustrophobic passageway as he navigated the twists and turns with a familiar ease. The city above was at its busiest, as the lunch hour rush approached, but the noise and bustle was forgotten here, far beneath the City of Angels.

As he neared his destination, Angel stalked silently, moving more carefully to conceal his presence. He knew the slightest noise could betray his intrusion to his prey. Secrecy was of the essence today. He had been searching for the whereabouts of a particularly large vampire Clan for weeks now every lead had turned up a dead end. Until now. All the painstaking searching, and all it had taken was a mysterious note that had appeared on his desk this morning. Cordelia, of course, had not taken down a source, merely jotted down the message and left it for him to find. Angel was suspicious from the start. Information like this did not just fall into your lap. It wreaked of a trap. Which explained his extreme caution.

As usual, Doyle was nowhere to be found when he was actually needed. Angel had a feeling he could find the demon at the nearest bar, but it wasn’t worth the time, or effort. He was not here to fight, not today. Today he was here to case the place. Under any circumstances, whether the lead turned out to be solid or not, the Clan in question was a particularly large clan, and extremely dangerous. Only a fool would charge in alone, guns blazing. The years had taught him patience, among other things.

For some unknown reason, then, of all moments, his thoughts wandered to Her. Over the years he had schooled himself not to think about her, or had tried to. He had become rather adept at it. But lately, it had become harder. She crept into his thoughts more and more, at the oddest times. She had always remained a part of him, a part that he had locked away out of necessity. If he hadn’t, the sheer overwhelming pain and loss would have rendered him functionless.

But now... it was as if that part of him had taken on a life of its own, refusing to be ignored. It was as if her soul was crying out for his, calling for his. He could feel it, almost as if she were physically drawing him to her. He had thought time would make it easier...but it was worse now more then ever. She haunting him, sleeping and awake. Haunting him with memories, memories that were still so strong it was as if they had happened yesterday instead of over ten years ago. Memories that taunted him with the fact that they were merely that, memories... that could never be recaptured.

At times he longed to see her, to touch her, to... Angel shook his head. He was a fool. By now she had moved on. She’d probably fallen in love again, with a man who could love her better then he. Better, but not more. No one could ever love her more. He didn’t know why the thought stung him. It was what he wanted. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to have all the things he could never give her. That was all that was important. What he wanted was not the issue. It had never been.

He was startled out of his reverie by a sharp pain, from the part of him he had walled off. As if someone were trying to rip it from under his skin... Angel shook it off. His mind was playing tricks on him. Buffy was far away in Sunnydale, safe and happy. Or so he had always assumed. Often news would come from Sunnydale through Cordelia, but he refused to hear it. Always he would simply ask one question and one only. ‘Is she alive?’ That was all he needed to know. As much as he wanted her to be happy, even if that happiness was in someone else, he didn’t think he could bare to hear it.

It wasn’t really necessary to ask if she was living. As oddly as it sounded, he knew that if she wasn’t, he would know, somehow. She was a part of him she had been from the moment he laid eyes on her, and the only time he had viewed her in the sunlight. The same part of him that felt as if it was ebbing away. He fought back the rising panic. Something was wrong, and he knew it, but what good could he do now? She was hours away by sewer even more, which was the only way he could travel during daylight hours. By the time he reached her it would be too late. He felt helpless. He had felt it for weeks now he had known something was wrong. He cursed himself for not responding sooner, and now he might not have the chance. Angrily he slammed his fist into the wall, causing a shower of debris to rain down upon him. He became aware of sounds, sounds of battle above him. Glancing up, his eyes fell upon a trap door that was exposed by his impromptu redecorating.

As he stretched up to examine it, the sounds of scuffling got louder. His investigative instincts got the better of him, and he nudged the old trap door open slightly, enough to peer out to where it led. It led to chaos. He could make out the interior of an old, musty warehouse the sheer number of vampires telling him that he had stumbled upon the nest of the very clan he sought. Apparently he had not been the only one looking for them, as a door in the side of the ancient building was open deadly rays of sunlight spilling in. The fine coating of ashes that covered the floor were all dead giveaways that someone had been stupid enough to take on the whole damn clan by themselves. And the way the vampires were clustered near the back of the warehouse told him that that someone had met their inevitable fate.

Shaking his head, he began to slowly close the trap door when his world came to a stand still. A mumbled plea pierced his heart, a cry so quiet as to be imperceptible to human ears, but not to his.

"Angel....."

He didn’t need for the vampires to shift and allow him a glimpse of their prey to know who it was that was dangling limp from the cruel hands of the beast that mocked her. Buffy.

With a growl, Angel sprang out of the small doorway as if propelled, and hurled himself into the core of vampires. He didn’t remember changing his visage. Stakes were unnecessary. He was on auto pilot as he tore through the surprised mob, wrenching the Slayer from the demon’s grasp with a snarl, throwing him against the wall with such violent force that made the entire structure groan. Gently hoisting her over his shoulder, Angel viciously fought his way through the pack.

Vampires are notoriously pigheaded creatures, but contrary to popular belief, they are not stupid. Taking one look at the enraged vampire before them, and at the victims of his fury laying mangled on the floor, the seas parted as they scrambled back, adding to the chaos. Before the nest could regain any semblance of order, the vampire and his slayer had disappeared into the dark sewers.

Stopping only once he was what he judged a safe distance from the den, Angel slowed, gently sliding the injured woman from his shoulder and into his arms, as he knelt, sitting her up against the filthy wall. His arms encircled her, holding her upright as his mind raced. He could hear her heart pushing the blood through her veins considerably less blood than before, but the rhythm remained steady none the less. She was alive. He stared at her face, mesmerized.

It had aged, and grown harder, more worn. But it was her face. The face he hadn’t seen in ten years. The face that haunted him, sleeping and awake. The face that he fully expected never to see again. That face was before him now, though battered, bruised and bleeding.... It was the most beautiful he had ever seen. It was water on the parched lips of a dying man, crawling through the desert. For a long moment, he merely stared at the vision of loveliness before him. Drinking it in. Every line of her face he had memorized so well, every crease, every curve.

With a frown he noted there were quite a few new ones. Scars. Battle scars. Battles she was forced to fight alone. With trembling hand, he reached up to touched an open wound on her forehead gingerly, wiping the trickle of blood that threatened to run, marring her perfect face with its crimson stain. As he tilted her head slightly, two twin puncture marks were revealed, trickling a ruddy ribbon of blood down her soft neck. The fresh marks were directly above an old scar one that had almost healed completely over, but not quite. Angel felt a surge of guilt remembering how that particular scar was inflicted.

Tearing his eyes away from her face, Angel forced himself to keep his mind on track. She was in bad shape. What she needed was a hospital. Which he couldn’t give her. It was the middle of the day he was unable to venture out, and he refused to merely find a means to send her to one. The Clan would have recovered from the mayhem by now, and would have its daylight contacts working the hospitals. He couldn’t have them finding her while he wasn’t there. He couldn’t leave her helpless and unprotected. Scooping her up into his arms once more, he took her to the only place he could.

Buffy felt as if she were floating detached from herself. She felt peaceful... reality hit her like a brick and she groaned involuntarily as the sensations of her body returned to her. Feeling as if she had lost a battle with a steamroller, she ached in places she refused to believe she had. She tried to stretch her limbs, which felt as if they were made of lead... she felt so weak, it was a struggle to open her eyes. When she finally managed to wrench them open, she found herself staring up at a solid wall of white. *Is this heaven? Did I die?*

Her face contorting in confusion, Buffy raised her head, too quickly it seemed, as it exploded in pain. Wincing, she moved her heavy arms up to grasp the offending head, another groan escaping her lips. *I guess I’m not dead. *

"Don’t try to move yet, you’re still weak."

Buffy could have sworn it was Angel’s voice... and Angel’s hands gently guiding her back to a reclining position.... Angel’s face looking down at her with gentle concern etched across it. But of course, that was impossible. *Maybe I really did die*... She always knew that her heaven would have him there... but the throbbing of her muscles and the dizzy swirling feeling of her head told her that she was very much alive. She stared at him, trying to think through the haze, and her utter confusion. "Angel? How-- Where am I?" Not making the mistake of attempting to sit up again, she merely turned her head to look at him, where he was seated next to her perched on the edge of the narrow couch. He looked just as young and darkly handsome as he always had, dressed entirely in black, per usual. She didn’t know why she had expected him to look any different, just because ten years had passed. What was ten years to a man who was going to live forever?

"Shh... just rest.." The words seemed to roll out of his mouth, like a soothing caress, as his hand reached out, gently mimicking to her face what his voice was doing to her heart. She instinctively nuzzled into the palm of his hand, and tears brimmed in her eyes for a moment. It had been so long since she had heard his voice, seen his face, felt his touch...

"No" Buffy jerked away from his touch as if burned.

He looked at her in confusion. "Buffy, what’s.."

"No!" Cutting him off, she sat up, ignoring the waves of pain crashing over her head. "You don’t get to do that. You don’t get abandon me for ten years and then act like nothings changed. You don’t get to touch me like nothing’s changed, that’s not how it works." Buffy could see the pain in his eyes as her words hit their mark. She instantly regretted saying it, then just as instantly was angry again. She wasn’t sure why this anger had surged up inside her all of a sudden. Often she had dreamed of this moment she would run into his arms and kiss him with all the passion of ten years... but this was no dream. It was reality, and for some reason, all the things she had ever planned to say if this moment ever happened were thrown out the door with this sudden anger that overshadowed any of the other feelings coursing through her the longing for him to touch her, to hold her, to...

Angel pulled back immediately. "I’m sorry." On the surface, it would appear as if he were apologizing for the most recent infraction of touching her, as he was, but the intensely mournful look in his eyes that were searing into hers made it clear that it was for so much more for... everything.

"For what? There’s nothing to be sorry for. You were just doing what was best for us, right? No apology needed." Buffy's voice was laced with bitterness, clearly referring to an incident much longer ago than 10 seconds. She stood up suddenly, propelling herself from the couch.

Angel rose just as suddenly. "Buffy where do you think you’re going? "

"Out of here. Wherever here is. Thanks for your help. I’d say goodbye but hey, we don’t have a good track record with those, now do we?"

Angel was unable to mask the hurt in his eyes at her stinging barbs. While he had known this wouldn’t be easy, he hadn’t quite prepared for her to wake up fighting like this. Though perhaps in retrospect, he probably should have. If there was one thing about Buffy that he knew, it was to expect the unexpected. She was about as easy to predict as the wind, and controlling both were equally as likely. He could see now that fighting off the vampires was perhaps the simplest part of the rescue.

Buffy had no idea where this rage was coming from. But once it started coming, she couldn’t stop it. Angel reached out and took her arm gently. "Buffy, you’re still weak..."

Buffy violently shook his arm off and pushed past him. "I’m fine." No sooner had the words escaped her lips then her knees buckled and she went crashing down... into Angel’s arms, which were instantly around her. Gently but firmly, he guided her back to the couch. No ‘I told you so’s’, no chastising looks. Only soft concern and pain in his eyes as he sat down on the coffee table next to the couch propping his arms on his knees and looked at her with a quiet firmness that communicated that he would sit here and let her rip his heart to shreds all night before he would allow her leave his care in her condition.

In no position to argue, Buffy averted her eyes, unable to take his probing gaze. Afraid he would be able to read her like a book, like he always had, and find out that this anger was really all a mask. A defense she had pulled out in panic, to push him away, because she knew that at one more moment of his touch she would have flung herself into his arms and begged him never to leave her again. It disgusted her that she was so weak, that he could still make her so weak. They regarded each other in this manner for a long time before she finally broke the silence, unable to take it anymore. She shifted uncomfortably.

"So... this is your place, huh? It’s... nice..." Buffy glanced around at the small yet comfortable quarters.

Angel fixed her with an intense look. "Why were you there today Buffy? "

Buffy fought the urge to squirm under his searching eyes. "There were vampires. I’m the vampire Slayer. Its part of the job description."

"That’s not what I mean and you know it."

Buffy looked back at him agitatedly. "No, I don’t. What do you mean? In case you haven’t noticed, we haven’t exactly been on the same wavelength for the past 10 years."

Ignoring her nettling, Angle pressed on. "You just plunge into the largest vampire nest in LA with no backup, no plan, no weapons. That’s not like you."

"Not like me? What would you know about me? You don’t know me anymore. You stopped knowing the moment you walked away." Buffy snapped.

Angel winced slightly, at the truth of the words. But he did know her. He knew enough about her to be able to read her slightly caught look the way she lashed out when she was hiding something. He knew letting her put him on the defensive would get him nowhere fast with her. He wouldn’t be diverted. "I’m only asking because I care."

"You care?" She laughed a dry, humorless laugh that was almost painful. "Oh yeah, I forgot. You left me all those years ago because you just _care_ so damn much."

Angel stiffened. "Buffy, you know why I left."

"Do I?"

" You know I only left...because I wanted to give you a better

life.""A better life? What would you know about a better life?" Buffy’s laughter bordered on hysterical. "Let me tell you something about my ‘better life’. I have no friends. I have no family. I _have_ no life. I have nothing." She spit out harshly.

Angel’s eyes bore into her with a dawning realization. "You came there to die."

Buffy looked away from him, not able to meet his gaze. "That’s none of your business." She whispered.

"Buffy look at me." She didn’t. "Look at me." Angel gently took her face in his hands and brought it so her eyes, now brimming with unshed tears, met his searching ones. "Why?" he asked with quiet firmness. He wanted to yell at her, to shake some sense in her. To tell her she couldn’t die. If she were dead, a part of him would die with her.

"I couldn’t do it anymore Angel... I... I couldn’t..."

"Couldn’t what?"

"I couldn’t go on like this. I..." Buffy suddenly pushed him away from her, and stood up again, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. "I have to go..." Once again, she tried to flee, but Angel stood up, and caught her wrist before she could put her plan into affect.

"Buffy...."

Buffy wrenched her wrist free, whirling to face him. "I’m fine!"

Angel firmly took both of her shoulders in his strong grip. "Buffy you’re not fine."

Buffy glared at him, furious, holding back the tears. She wasn’t going to loose it not here. Not in front of him like this. "Let me go!"

"No."

Buffy struggled, but was unable to break free of his grip. "Angel, I mean it, let go." If looks could kill, Angel would have been reduced a pile of ashes right then and there.

He shook his head, meeting her look of death resolutely. She should have known that wouldn’t work. The vampire had nerves of steel one nasty look was not going to intimidate a creature who had survived hundreds of years in Hell. "You’re not leaving this apartment until you’re strong enough to fight your way out."

"Are you that eager to get your ass kicked?" Buffy continued to try to break free as he tightened his grip.

"Buffy, just sit back down." He urged quietly.

All the anger came to a head as she wrenched herself free, and took a sloppy swing at him, weak from her ordeal from the overwhelming-ness of everything that was boiling up inside her. He easily blocked the attempted blow to his face, as she aimed another at his chest- a blow that even in her weakened state would easily have sent a normal man reeling backwards. But Angel didn’t make a move to stop her as she pummeled his chest and shoulders, a screech of rage emerging from her throat, trailing into a choked sob. Followed by another, and another, until she wasn’t even seeing through the tears that were spilling down her face, she was wildly attacking him out of touch with everything around her but the pain that threatened to overwhelm her. The rage at the pain and her weakness, and at him for leaving her, at herself for caring, for letting it slowly eat away at her until she was a hollow shell of a person. She struggled blindly as his strong arms firmly encircled her, holding her tightly. Weakly she collapsed against him, as her knees buckled and she clung to him as the only thing keeping her from crumpling to the floor in a trembling heap.

Maybe it was being in his arms again. Maybe it was the familiar feel of his strength and love, that finally tore through her wall of anger. Whatever it was, something inside her gave way, as she sagged against him.

"I’m so lonely Angel." Her voice was broken and jagged. "Everything is so empty, I feel so .....empty and alone....." The tears were running out over her eyelids, down her cheeks in little rivulets. Instinctively, he pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her more tightly than before, if possible. She clung to him as the sobs wracked her body.

The dam broke, as ten years of emotions she had kept carefully trapped away came crashing down upon her in overwhelming intensity emotions she had refused to acknowledge were even there suddenly gushing forth in a tidal wave, crashing through the barriers she had carefully constructed, like a wild force of nature, taking on a life of its own. Choked sobs escaped from her lips, in ragged breaths, as she buried her face into his shoulder.

As Angel looked down at the tough, hardened slayer crying brokenly in his arms, the realization hit him. He had hoped to save her from his life, from the despair and sorrow that haunted him. But instead of setting her free, he had condemned her to the same yawning emptiness that consumed him.

"I’m tired of being strong," she sobbed. "I’m tired of pretending like I’m fine when I’m not... I’m tired of fighting. I’m just so tired."

Angel didn’t try to silence her, or stop the flood of emotions that was pouring out of her. Instead he merely stroked her hair with his large hand in a soothing gesture, murmuring unintelligible sounds of comfort as he kissed the top of her head while she continued to tremble violently with the force of her sobs that showed no sign of slowing. His attempts to soothe her only succeeding in making her cry harder.

"Oh God, Angel I love you so much. I tried to run from it, for so, so long...but I can’t-- I can’t stop needing you, I wanted to so badly but I can’t... I can’t..."

Pulling back slightly, Angel raised her face gently from where it was buried in his shoulder to look at him. Her face red and swollen from crying, she turned it away from him, trying to conceal the evidence of her weakness in the comfort of his soft, protective embrace once more. Keeping a firm but tender grip on her chin, Angel refused to let her hide anymore. She didn’t say anything her bloodshot eyes stared into his listlessly. Her eyes that looked so dead and hollow. Broken.

Something inside him snapped at that moment. His careful resolve to keep a distance crumbling. To hell with it, he thought. Nothing was worth this, having to watch his love dying in front of him. Being eaten way with loneliness until she was as much a walking corpse as he was. Whatever rules he had set for himself for this encounter thrown out the window, he turned his grip on her face into a loving caress.

Leaning forward, Angel softly kissed away the tears that were leaking from her eyes. Buffy melted into his arms as he planted light kisses on her now closed eyelids. Sliding his head down, he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. "I know the feeling." he murmured.

"Do you?" She opened her pink, watery eyes to look at him.

Angel felt a surge of almost anger that she could question his so blatant love for her. "You know I love you" The anger surged and died as quickly as it was born upon gazing into her raw, vulnerable eyes, needing confirmation and reassurance of what was shattered upon his desertion. His face softened, still a hairs breadth away from hers. "I never stopped needing you, not for a minute."

"Then why... why did you tell me you didn’t want to be with me?" she asked quietly in that pitiful voice she used that sounded like a child’s. The voice that never failed to break his heart every time she was forced to use it.

"I lied" He stated simply. "I wanted to be with you so much, it hurt. It still does. But I couldn’t... I couldn’t stay, Buffy. I thought I was holding you back..." His voice was on the verge of breaking as he realized how wrong he had been.

Buffy shook her head incredulously. "How could you think that? You- you were the only thing in my life that made sense... when you left... nothing did..."

Angel didn’t know what to say, except "I’m sorry..."

"Sorry doesn’t cut it Angel..... it doesn’t take away the fact that you’re gone... "

"I’m right here."

"But you weren’t... you abandoned me... for ten years, you might as well have been dead, for all I knew! Then you just... walk back into my life and expect to heal the wounds you made when you ripped a part of me away that night..." Buffy’s voice began to break once more, and she bristled, her teary eyes beginning to harden again. Angel could almost visibly see her defenses raising the bitterness creeping back into her voice as the brokenness she had exhibited gave way to her self defense mechanism, her entire body stiffening as she started to pull away.

Desperate to stop the rapid backsliding, to somehow halt the raising of the walls he had barely managed to tear down, Angel impulsively did the only thing that came to mind.

Clasping his hands firmly around her back as she tried to step back, he pulled her to him abruptly, causing her to loose her footing gripping his shoulders instinctively to keep her balance. Before she could react beyond that, he swooped down and captured her lips in his, in a kiss that was at once gentle and fierce. Buffy’s entire being responded immediately to the familiar feel of his loving kiss her soul leapt as she returned it, opening her mouth to his as she threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, until neither of them were able to tell where one left off and the other began. Their hearts rejoiced. They were home, at long last. Together, where they belonged.

Angel pulled back somewhat, startled when a sob escaped her throat, leaping into his. His face was etched with concern and confusion that she was crying again suddenly afraid that he had over stepped his bounds. "Buffy...I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have..." His eyes searched hers, trying to read the cause for her sudden onslaught of tears.

Buffy shook her head. " I can’t do it any more Angel, I.." she said in a heartbroken whisper. "I can’t go on without you... I don’t think I can take it if you leave me again, I... I’m not strong enough..." The tears streamed freely down her face again.

Reaching up, Angel tenderly wiped the beaded tears from her cheek with his hand. "A strong person once told me something..," he began. " The strongest person I know, actually, always has been" Half of his mouth curved up in an slight appreciative smile as the irony of the reversed situation occurred to him. "Strong is fighting. It’s hard, and its painful, and its every day...."

Buffy started slightly as she heard her own words from so long ago repeated back to her, and gave a sad smile. "This is different Angel..."

Angel shook his head taking her face in his hands gently, and brought her eyes to meet his, as he continued, still quoting her "and that’s what we have to do..." his voice caught as he paused hesitantly "...and we can do it together."

Buffy looked back at him in surprise, "together?" her voice was a tentative whisper, trying not to let the sudden hope rise up, for fear of them being dashed, knowing that he could not mean what she so desperately longed he did. "...do you mean..."

Angel nodded, cupping her face in his large hands lovingly. "I do." He paused again, uncertain if he should continue, if she would even agree... but something in her eyes told him to continue. "Stay with me. Here. Stay here and be my partner. LA could use a Slayer..."

Buffy was unable to suppress the first genuine smile that had blossomed across her face in 10 years. It sprouted slowly at first, hesitant to test the previously barren field of her face, and, finding fertile soil, it bloomed. There were hundreds of reasons why it wouldn’t, couldn’t work. She didn’t hear any of them. All she heard was her heart weeping jubilantly, with the utter right-ness of it. There really wasn’t any need for a decision to be made her heart had already made it for her. *Yes, yes, yes* it cried almost audibly. Then, as the entirety of what he said dawned on her, she raised an eyebrow in surprise, certain she had misunderstood. "Stay here? As in..." She made a pointed glance at his spacious apartment before returning her gaze to his.

"Yes..." he faltered, suddenly unsure. "That is, if you want to... you could always get your own apartment, or stay with Cordelia if..."

Buffy let out a sound that was between a sob, a laugh, and a sigh of relief, or perhaps a mixture of all three, as she brought her hands to his face, gently tracing the lines that she knew by heart. The tears that streamed down her own face were now of a different nature as she looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears of joy, and joy itself radiating from them. "Of course I’ll stay here. ", the tone of her voice making him feel absurd for doubting her answer for even a moment’s time.

A familiar cloud of doubt passed over Angel’s features. "But Buffy... I still can’t..." Pausing uncomfortably, he looked away, unable to meet her eyes hesitant to name the barrier that was between them. The cruel joke of the vengeful gypsies that continued to taunt him denying them the perfect union that they longed for. Taunting them with the fact that they had tasted heaven once, only to be denied forever.

Not needing for him to finish, Buffy brought a silencing finger to his lips, prompting him to meet her shimmering eyes once more. "shhh... I don’t care about that... " She traced his lips lightly with her finger. "I never did... all I care about is you." She gazed up at him with fierce devotion. " You’re all I want... all I ever wanted... and I’ll take you any way I can get you. " she smiled as he kissed her fingertips. "Its enough, just knowing that you love me... that you still do..."

"Always have" Angel mumbled against her fingers, smiling slowly, his heart filling up like a balloon at her words.

"I love you" Buffy declared simply, as Angel took her by the wrist planting a lingering kiss on the back of her hand, nuzzling it as he looked up at her adoringly.

"I love you. God Buffy, I love you..." Angel’s words were swallowed by Buffy’s mouth, as she moved her hand to stroke his face as she kissed him, smiling against his lips as she poured all her love, all her passion, everything that remained unsaid, into that kiss. For the first time in ten years, she felt complete. She was no longer half a person, she was whole. The empty, gaping hole in her heart and soul had been filled, fitted with the only other who belonged there the one who owned her heart, her will, her soul her entire being, belonged to him, and his to her. Even her body was his that he could not claim it properly was irrelevant, it was his, in a way it always had been, and now always would be. All this and more, she told him wordlessly, which articulated her feelings more perfectly than any words in the human language. To put words to what she was telling him would be to simplify it, to demean it, to taint and unpurify the perfect message of love and devotion that pa! ssed between them in that kiss, moving the stoic vampire almost to tears in awe of the gift of surrender that the mighty slayer was entrusting to him.

In response, he pulled her against him protectively, returning the promises given tenfold. He had left her a confused shell of a demon, hardly a worthy sacrifice to lay upon the altar of her love. He returned to her now as something more- a person. Through his quest of redeeming others, he had ultimately found his own redemption in turn. Buffy could sense the change in his confidence by the way he held her, by the way he stood tall, unlike the sullen puppy with its tail between its legs, always expecting a beating for its inadequacy, that she had known a decade prior. They were equals now. And, if possible, she loved him all the more for it. Surrounded by his confident arms, and love, she felt completely safe.

The two lovers stayed locked in that soft, loving embrace for hours, or moments, they knew not which their mouths waging a passionate battle that had no victor. They both had already won.

It was in that moment that it occurred to her-the destiny she had been running from was not what she had thought. It was not death, but life. She had indeed died that day dead was the old Buffy, the wounded sullen Buffy, the broken, hollow, independent Slayer. She had died, and was born anew she was no longer who she had been, no longer merely herself any longer. She was a new creature, merged with her other half, in body, soul and spirit. Neither were themselves any longer. They were one. She had found her destiny. And it was in the form of an Angel.

Loved it? Loathed it? Do find the time to tell me :) This is my first completed work that I have sent out publicly, so please do be kind, but honest. If you hate it, think it’s horrible, feel free to tell me so, but don’t just flame me, tell me why. Constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated. But please do make it intelligent observations, and not simple "it sucks. All of it." :) Send it to callieX@juno.com.

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