His words echo for a moment in the stillness of the kitchen, and I push the wealth of dark blonde hair off my neck, fanning the sweaty expanse of flesh with trembling fingers. I look at him closely and notice the lines of fatigue around his mouth and the bright purple smudges underneath those dark, dark eyes. He looks a little older than I remember, and it's strange, as he remained twenty for all those years that I knew him and loved him.

“You got divorced,” I repeat his words in a blank tone that invites no further discussion, but I know he'll want to explain.

“Yes,” he surprises me by answering simply. “We did. About six months ago.”

“I don't—“

“You don't what?” he asks softly, his fingers on the inner edge of my elbow, which still burns slightly from the coffee.

“I'm not really sure what to say,” I murmur. “Congratulations somehow doesn't seem appropriate.”

The left side of his mouth quirks and he half-smiles ever so slightly. “Well, you never were one for social niceties.”

“I was never one for niceties, period,” I remind him, shrugging helplessly. “I'm sorry about you and Cordy. I know you loved each other.”

He nods. “Thank you. Love sometimes isn't enough though.”

“That's the truth,” I agree, and take a step back from him. I can smell the wisps of heady cologne, and sweet sweat layering his skin and it's making me dizzy. “Most things that break people up don't give a damn about love, do they?”

Leaning against the wall, with a body that is sleek yet much more defined, more solid, he scratches his chest and smiles sadly. “She didn't want children. She wanted a career. I guess I couldn't give up my dream of having a big family.”

“Is that the reason you broke up?” I ask, not really wanting to know.

He shakes his head. “Not really. We just… we forgot all the reasons we were together. It became… a friendship, too early. It became a convenience.”

“I'm sorry,” I offer inadequately. “I wish I could say something.”

“It's all right.”

“Angel—“ I begin, but am interrupted when the phone rings suddenly.

Smiling apologetically, I reach over to answer it. “Hello?”

“Buffy. It's me.”

“Natalie,” I greet her gently, warmly. “How are you feeling?”

She laughs quietly, “Good. It's a good day.”

“Are you calling because?” I break off and whisper, “Because of what the doctor said yesterday? Did you go see him, Nat?”

She sighs, “Yes, I did. The operation is scheduled in another two weeks.”

“Damn,” I mutter and she laughs again, ruefully this time.

“I know. I'm not looking forward to it, either.”

Turning away from Angel, I wind the phone cord around my finger as I speak softly, “Do you want me to come up and see you?”

“I don't want you on a plane,” she says sharply, and I breathe out.

“Nat…”

“I know. It's irrational. But… I don't want to lose you, too, darling.”

“Hey, it's you we should be worried about,” I remind her. “I hope you're getting lots of rest and not being a bad-Natalie.”

Giggling like the girl she has always been, inside, despite her aged appearance, she murmurs, “I'm trying to follow doctor's orders, I promise.” Trailing off for a moment, she then says, “It's the…”

“Anniversary in a week,” I finish. “I know.”

“Are you planning on…?”

“Going to the grave?” I inquire quietly. “I'm not sure. I mean… it's a marker and an empty space in the ground. He's not even there.”

“He wouldn't be. He'd be with you,” she says wistfully and I smile (No. He's in Heaven, Natalie. I know, because I've been there… and don't worry. He's safe and happy and thinks we're all doing fine. He's done. He's finished.)

God, how I envy him sometimes.

“Thank you,” I murmur and mean it. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she answers. “I'll call you tomorrow, darling.”

“Ok. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Hanging up, I take a breath and then say, “Sorry- that was just Danny's—“

There's no one there. Padding over to the screen door, I press my nose to the mesh shielding me from the outside, and look up and down the street. No Angel. He left as he always did, without any sound or sign. I don't blame him, really. I wouldn't want to be around me either.

Walking back to the table, I glance down and then swallow stiffly, realizing what he saw. It's a basket of cards I had out and had been carefully leafing through, searching for a particular birthday message Danny had written me

(Happy 25th, my sweet Buffy. Remember, age is just a number. We'll grow old together, and I'll always be there to hold your hand, especially during the plastic surgery we're both going to need as the years go on! Only kidding. Love, your Danny)

but so far, I'd been unsuccessful.

All I'd found were cards that had congratulated me on my pregnancy.

Some were withered and bent from too many handlings. Stained with tears from when I wept over them when it all ended in blood. One had a large brown stain on it from when Danny and I had been reading them in bed. In bed with us had been a large chocolate mousse cake. I smile absently at the memory and pick up the card that must have spilled out of Angel's hands as I was on the phone. The one that made him leave.

Opening it, I read the lines scrawled on the crisp white page and wince, my face washing with pale.

Buffy and Danny,

Congratulations on the news of your upcoming parenthood! Willow told me the news during our bi-annual phone call, and I'm thrilled for you. I really hope you'll come to New York soon and drop by. Maybe when the baby comes?

You'll have to teach me all about motherhood, Buffy, as (don't tell Angel!!) I'm expecting a little bundle of joy in about nine months. Don't spread the word… I just wanted to share this news with you, my old friend.

Anyway, congratulations to you both!

Love and kisses,

Cordy

I sit down heavily in the polished wooden chairs, rubbing my aching neck carefully. “She had an abortion,” I say out loud to the room, which echoes the words back to me. This house is so full of emptiness. Just like the one on Revello Drive. “She had an abortion and didn't tell Angel.”

I had forgotten about this little note. Filed it away at the back of my mind- something to be tossed out. Angel having a baby with someone else? Didn't want to know about it. It wasn't like I wanted to be the one carrying his children (I was, of course, swollen with Danny's at that point and much too happy to worry about past lovers), but it still stung. I knew Cordelia had always resented me- just a little- and she wrote that card, in large part to rub my face in her joy.

That was ok. I knew, that she always had a hard time with my place in his heart. I had been the first person he loved in over two hundred years. But… she was the last. And that… that, was the person who counted. Not the first, but the last. My head aches, and I lean back, stretching the slim length of my spine.

I wonder if he'll come back.

He always said he would… and I didn't believe him.

I don't really believe he will this time, either. I put the cards away and give up hope of finding the words Danny wrote to me so many years ago. They're simply ink now, anyway. He's not going to be here to hold my hand as I get older.

Just another promise broken.

~ ~ ~

Days melt and a week passes in relative peace. Willow and Tara come over for dinner one night, and I make a light pasta. They bring brownies, and their little girl, that they adopted three years ago. Her name is Katherine (Katie), and she has eyes that are a clear, clear blue. Her smile is like sunlight, her laugh like falling water. She has become my daughter as well as Willow and Tara's, and I love them a little bit more for sharing her with me.

We sit outside on the back deck, as she toddles on chubby legs, around and around the flowers I planted last summer. The air is filled with the heavy fragrance of roses and orange blossom. Lazily, I pat my belly and murmur, “I think I'm getting fat.”

“You're as thin as a rail,” Tara reminds me in her soft tone, watching Katie play, with that special glow a Mother has. “Dawn called me last night.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, interested, although that is nothing new. Dawn calls her more than me. I think… something twisted and shattered between us when I was sent to Heaven in her place. Nothing has ever really been the same. Not even nine years has been able to heal it. “Did she have any news?”

Willow glances at her lover thoughtfully. “Maybe I should tell her. She might freak out.”

Tara smiles. “I don't think it's that bad, baby.”

“Whaaat?” I ask, exasperated, and then grin as Katie picks up a flower from the grass and brings it to me.

“Here Buffy,” she says in her slurry toddler voice. “Flower?”

“That's right,” I take it and inhale the sweet scent. “Thanks honey.” Pecking her on the nose, and making her laugh, I watch her run back out onto the lawn and then turn my attention back to the two Witches. “What did Dawn tell you?”

“She's… she's seeing someone from our past.”

“And that would be who?”

“Umm…” Willow looks nervous.

“It's Spike, Buffy,” Tara says firmly. “Dawn's been seeing Spike for the last month. Apparently she's too weirded out by the whole thing to tell you. She thinks you'll be angry.”

I think for a moment. “Dawn and Spike. That's…”

“Sick and wrong?” Willow asks, and Tara shushes her, looking at me pensively.

Out of all of them, Tara's the only one who found out about Spike and me (excluding Riley and Angel) and she knows I like to keep it that way. It would just dredge up old wounds that I don't care to open. “That's… well, it's new,” I finally finish. “And strange. But it's not like I can fault her for going out with a vampire, can I?”

Willow grins. “It seems to run in the family. Actually, I think your Mom was even a little smitten with Spike at one point.”

“He was a charmer,” I reply wryly, thinking of him fondly for a moment. ((We never had any harsh words after the breakup. Just small moments. After the Armageddon, he left town. And I moved on.)) “Besides, 'whatever makes Dawnie happy' is basically my philosophy.”

They both glance at me sympathetically as Tara picks up a tired Katie and snuggles her into her embrace. “Time for bed?” she whispers to the girl, who shakes her head emphatically.

“I think that's a no,” I laugh, and then tilt my head. “More coffee?”

“No, we should be getting home,” Willow tugs on the ends of Katie's hair playfully. “This one's sleepy. Thanks for dinner, though.”

“Anything for my favourite girls,” I smile, kissing each of them, quickly. “What about doing it again? Next week?”

“Fine,” Tara agrees, “but it's at our place. You just bring yourself.”

“And that vanilla cake,” Willow adds and I laugh quietly.

“Ok, sounds good.”

Waving Goodbye to them, I begin to clear up the plates from the table on the back deck, the musky night air stealing into my senses. Switching on the CD Player that rests just inside the door ((We'd play it whenever we had barbecues)), I listen to the strains of the Flamingos- “I Only Have Eyes for You” wistfully. Too many memories of two different men.

“Familiar song,” a voice says from the doorway.

“Yeah, it is,” I look up. “What made you come back?”

Angel shrugs. “I'm sorry for leaving so abruptly. I had some things… well, I realized some things I guess.”

“That's ok,” I answer, deciding not to bring up the card. “Nice night, isn't it?”

He nods, his eyes burning into mine. “Buffy…”

“Don't,” I whisper. “Let's not ruin this, ok?”

“Ruin what?” he asks quietly, and I set down the dirty plates I'd been gathering.

“I'm lonely.”

He starts in shock and then inclines his head. In the faint darkness, he looks like the Angel I knew so long ago- just a little older. I know I don't look much like the sixteen year old Buffy that he fell in love with. Darker hair, maybe a little thinner. And shadows in my eyes from losing too much.

“Dance with me?” he steps forward. “We could pretend for a while.”

I smile sadly, and take his hands in mine, pressing our palms together. I feel the light sweat on his fingers and lean close, into the body that I once knew so well. “Yeah,” I respond softly. “Let's do that.”

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