I turn slowly, regarding the man in front of me for a moment. His skin shines faintly with sweat, and I can feel perspiration on my own body, trickling down my spine, which is covered with a mint green sheet from the bed. It smells like us, musky and salty, and I breathe out, trying to form a coherent thought. What does he mean? Did he see Danny? Oh God. Am I going to have to hear about his last moments at the airport?

Vomit swells in my throat for the barest of seconds and I gulp, pressing a shaky hand to my breastbone. Finally I find my voice. “What do you mean, Angel?”

He sighs heavily and scratches the sliver of belly, which is revealed by his half-buttoned shirt. “I mean I… I was at the airport. I saw him.”

An image of Danny's easy smile and chocolate brown hair swirls before my eyes and I take a step backward. “Why didn't you tell me? Is this your idea of a fun surprise?”

“No,” he grimaces. “I didn't know how to tell you.”

“How about, 'Hey Buffy, before we have sex, I just want you to know that I saw your husband before he died.'” My mouth compresses as I look at him. “I think that would have taken care of things, don't you?” Pausing, I clutch desperately at the sheet, thinking. “Did you talk to him?”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation and I swallow, the tears stinging my eyes sudden and brutal.

“What did he say?”

Angel looks at me with those eyes and then whispers, “He said you were mad at him.”

“I was,” I respond dully. “Madder than hell. Isn't it funny, now I can barely remember why it was so important for him to come back for that fucking barbecue. We had dozens every summer…” Trailing off, I sit down on a chair in the corner where I throw my dirty clothes every night. “Did he remember you?”

“Yes,” Angel replies quietly. “We talked a little. Both of our flights were delayed, and we met at the bar. So we sat together, and… when he went to check on our planes, he took a bump and I guess he called you. When he came back, he told me that you were angry.”

“He talked about me to you…” I say softly, not able to reconcile the idea in my head. Of course, Danny didn't know the full history between Angel and me. I hadn't filled him in, like I did with Riley, because I had learned… no good came of boyfriends knowing you'd had an undying love with a vampire. No good at all.

“Just a little. He showed me your picture… he kept it in his wallet.”

One tear spills out of my eye. “I didn't know that.”

“Yeah,” Angel seems lost in memories, his expression one of glazed remembrance. “It was of you sitting outside, I think it was summer. You were wearing this white sundress, and your hair was long and around your shoulders. You were laughing.” He doesn't say anything for a moment and I stare at him, stricken slightly. “It was beautiful. It was just… it was nice knowing you were happy.”

“I was,” I reply blankly. “It was so… simple loving Danny. He was just one of those people, you know? I had so much love in me for him. Things changed. They got better after I ended things with Spike and I realized… I guess I realized that maybe I should be living life instead of waiting for it to end.” My hands fiddle with an old shirt that was on the back of the seat. It has a faint smell to it that reminds me I need to do a wash. “I really never thought I'd love anyone again. It was a nice surprise. He was my light… at the end of the tunnel. First it was Xander and Anya, and then… it was Danny.”

“I'm sorry,” he says simply and I smile without warmth.

“Why? Because you think the light stopped being you when you and Cordelia got together? Or when you told me to move on?”

“Buffy,” he begins huskily, “I've always been sorry that I said those things to you. But I…”

“But you what? Couldn't resist telling the hard facts of life to the girl who'd just been ripped out of Heaven?” I snap. “I get that you were broken up when I died. I would have understood if you had needed to take a break. But you falling for someone else right after… I couldn't get it.”

“You didn't love me then,” he says sharply. “You said it yourself. Heaven killed any love you'd had for me.”

“Maybe it did,” I reply coldly. “Maybe Spike was right. We sure were in love till it killed us both, weren't we?”

“Fuck what Spike said,” he snarls, stalking towards me. “I was wrecked when you were killed. Do you have any idea how it felt to see Willow standing there, telling me you were gone? So I shut down. So I didn't want to get hurt again and I told you to move on. I thought I was doing what was best.”

“Oh, right,” I drawl lightly. “Of course. Doing what's right, that's all you do, isn't it Angel? Leaving me because it's for my own good. Telling me to move on because you want to feel free to fuck Cordelia—“

“That is not true,” he rasps, grabbing my arms and hauling me out of the chair. I keep a tenuous hold on the sheet, wriggling out of his grasp. It takes effort. Slayer strength wasn't something I was allowed to keep after the End of Days. “I couldn't help it. I fell for her. She was my best friend.”

“And best friends make the best lovers?” I whisper. “I get it.”

“No, you don't,” he says coolly. “She was all I had. Besides, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Buffy. I seem to remember you falling into bed with Spike right after we saw each other.”

“More like we fell into a house,” I return. “And don't you dare compare what I had with Spike with you marrying Cordelia. I used Spike. I slept with him. I cared about him. But at no point did I love him.”

“Wasn't I allowed to love someone else?” he whispers. I can feel his breath, hot and sticky on my face. “Is that against the rules?”

“No,” I return, suddenly weary. “I just never thought…”

“That I'd get over you?”

I wince. “It wasn't fair of me to expect that you'd wait forever. But that's what I did expect. I can't help it. You left and I had other people in my life. But I always thought that someday you'd come back and make me feel something again.”

He shakes his head. “Maybe that's what I'm doing now.”

Breathing out, I shake my head as well. “It's way too late, Angel. Because I stopped waiting too.”

“You had a good life with Danny, didn't you?” he asks suddenly and again I feel tears swell in my throat and swallow woodenly.

“The best life,” I nod, gulping back a sob. “He was a good man. Isn't that such an over-used expression?” I laugh slightly. “But he was. A really good guy. Funny. Looked nice in jeans. He was great with Katie. Always rubbed my stomach when I was sick. Sometimes I still can't believe… that he's not here. And then there's other times when it's like he's been gone for sixty years and I'm an old lady telling the story of my husband that I lost when I was way too young.”

Lightly, he takes my hand and rubs his thumb against my palm. “He seemed like a good guy when I talked to him, Buffy.”

“Was he angry with me?” I inquire, not really wanting to know.

Angel shakes his head. “Not really. He seemed more… resigned. He laughed a little about it and said he would call you when he got to the hotel and smooth things over. He said you blew hot and cold, and that you'd get over it eventually.”

I smile. “He knew me too well.”

For a moment Angel gazes down at me and I see an expression that is akin to anguish enter his eyes. “I wished that I knew you as well as him. When I was talking to him, and he mentioned something about how the bar didn't make drinks like you... I realized that he had a piece of you I couldn't touch.”

My belly aches and I incline my head. “That's true. But… you've always had a piece of me that no one else can touch, Angel.” Painfully, I raise my hand to his face and touch his jaw, his eyebrow, running my fingers down the length of his cheek, much like I did when I was sixteen and his vampiric visage was beautiful in my eyes. “I loved you for a long time. I waited for a long time. But eventually… I just stopped. You married Cordy. I married Danny. Things became… things became less simple.”

He cups my face with his hands and looks far into my eyes. “Do you ever wish… do you ever wish things had gone differently when I saw you? After you came back?”

“How can you ask me that?” I murmur huskily. “Either way I answer, it feels like a betrayal.”

He nods. “Even being here feels like a betrayal. To everything.”

“To Cordelia?” I inquire calmly, needing to know.

“I don't know. Yes, a little. Because she was my wife. I did love her. Not in… not in the same way that I loved you. But…”

“I know,” I respond softly. “I mean I understand… but you'd better go.”

“Why?” he asks, and I step away, his hands sliding down my arms.

“Because I need to think. I can't think when you're near.”

“Buffy…” he touches my cheek and forces me to look at him. “Once you asked me to stay forever. Do you remember that?”

“Yes,” I choke out, my breath hitching as I remember that innocent girl who sat on her mother's grave and needed to hear something would be there for always. But she learned nothing was. “I remember.”

“This time… this time, it could be forever. I could promise you forever.”

“Don't,” I hold up my hand and struggle to control my breathing as I back away from him. Panicked. “Just go, please. Don't make promises. Just go.”

When I spin around a few moments later, he's gone.

I stare at the rumpled sheets and the mess of my clothes on the floor and remember innocent, bygone days when I was part of the Scooby gang and I had Angel by my side, and everything was black and white. Now there are just too many shades of gray.

Sitting down on the bed, I pick up a picture of Xander, Willow, and me from High School that I always keep close by. For a brief moment I consider calling Xander in Bermuda just to see how he is and then think better of it. I don't know what time it is there and if I woke him and Anya up, there'd be hell to pay. Smiling faintly, I touch our images with my index finger… remembering.

I curl up in a ball on one side, falling into a heavy sleep.

I dream of my Mother.

~ ~ ~

The week begins to melt as soon as I go back to work. I manage a Calvin Klein boutique in the heart of Los Angeles. It's fairly decent money, and I even got to meet Calvin himself when he came in one day. Customers aren't of the good, of course, but I didn't live half my life as a Slayer for nothing. I can bull-shit with the best of them, and people are none the wiser. Danny certainly wasn't, as he never found out about the secret life I had for so long.

Sometimes I regret that, but then, I regret a lot of things and it doesn't do any good.

Willow and Tara come over with Katie for dinner on Thursday night, which is our tradition. The little girl eats way too much and then runs around outside like a bat out of Hell. Tara seems unfazed, but even Willow looks a little tired out by her energy. We watch old movies and then they sleep over, which isn't uncommon. They let me stay with them for weeks after Danny was killed.

As I make breakfast Friday morning, the phone rings.

“'Lo?” I answer, cradling it against my shoulder.

“Buffy?”

“Hey Nat,” I speak warmly, as I flip bacon which sizzles in a pan of grease. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, darling. The doctor says I can go home tomorrow.”

“That's great,” I exclaim. “I wish I could be there. Is the cavalry arriving?”

“Of course,” she says dryly. “I think half of the Walker clan is turning out to give me a welcome home party. They think it's a surprise.”

“How could they think they could fool you?” I laugh.

“Silly of them, isn't it?” she giggles, and then sobers quickly. “But enough about me. What's the matter, Buffy?”

“What?” I ask, thunderstruck. “What do you mean? I'm fine.”

There's a dry 'I'm a mother, you imbecile' note to her voice when she speaks next. “Darling, you forget I know you, and very well too. Something's wrong- something's happened since we last talked.”

Uncomfortable with mentioning Angel to her, even though I know she won't be judgmental, I hesitate as I reply, “Someone's come back into my life. Someone that I didn't think I'd ever see again.” I turn down the heat on the scrambled eggs as I add a little more butter and salt to them. “It's just confused me, I guess.”

“An ex-boyfriend, I suppose?” she answers dryly.

“How did you know?”

She laughs gently. “I've lived too long, Buffy. And men are always the problem, as far as I've gleaned from experience. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to.”

“It's not that, Natalie, it's just that—“

“You're not being disloyal to him, Buffy. You know that, don't you?”

Swallowing back the prick of tears, I nod, trembling. “I think I know. I mean… it just feels so wrong to have feelings for anyone Nat. I loved Danny. I still love him. It still feels like I'm married.”

“I know,” she returns sadly. “I felt that way for a long time after his father died. But I had to realize that whomever I was with afterwards… they were there because Julian wasn't. That's just the way it was.”

A little stricken by her candor, I slump into a kitchen chair after turning off the oven. I can hear the shrieks of Katie as Willow and Tara play with her outside. If I crane my neck, I can see them out of the back windows. Thinking for a moment, I then respond, “I know you're right. That's the way it is. But it's hard to accept.”

“Just remember please, that Danny wouldn't have begrudged you finding happiness,” she reminds me.

“Oh, I know,” I smile wanly. “I've always known that. Sometimes I think though, that maybe I wouldn't be the same way if it had been me on that plane.”

She sighs. “If it had been you on that plane, I don't know what he would have done, Buffy. He thought the world of you. I'm showing my age with that expression, but it's true. Remember what he said in the vows?”

I lapse into memory, nodding. “Yes. He said… he said that he'd spend his life making sure I was happy and loved, and that since he met me… since he met me he'd wanted nothing more than to see my face each morning and dance with me under the stars each night.” I press a hand to my face and am surprised when it comes away wet. I hadn't known I'd been crying. “Oh Nat… I miss him so much.”

She's weeping as well, I can hear it. “Me too, love. I miss him too.”

~ ~ ~

That night, as I soap myself in the shower, I think back to when Xander and Anya were in LA a few years ago and we all went out to dinner. Katie was with the sitter, and we went to some fancy restaurant that I can't remember the name of. I wore black, and Danny put on a suit for once. We propped up a picture of Giles on one empty place and pretended he was there. Xander told us stories from nightmare construction jobs his company had had, and Anya surprised the waiter by asking if he'd made the food, because it was horrible.

Xander made it into a joke, (he was used to Anya's ways by then), but I don't think the poor man ever recovered.

Danny had some kind of disgusting fish, and I ate bread sticks and told them that Dawnie was doing well in her courses at the Arts college she was attending in New York. Willow and Tara regaled Xander and Anya (and picture-Giles) with tales of Katie, and Danny talked about recent shipments at the art gallery, which I knew everyone found boring, but I blessed them for acting interested.

Afterwards, we went to some club and danced and danced, and I don't ever remember laughing more than I did that night. We were all together again (most of us) and nothing else mattered but that. I had a husband and friends and a life, and how did it all get away from me so quickly?

Pressing my face to the tiled shower wall, which is slick with condensation and water, I start with shock when I feel hands slide around me. For a moment I think I'm having one of the hallucinations I did after Danny died. (I'd be somewhere, anywhere, and I'd feel his hands on my arms, or his breath on my neck, and think he was there. But, of course, he never was).

Quickly, I spin around and almost slip. Angel's eyes gaze into mine, and they're burning, and it almost hurts to look. He catches me before I fall, and my flushed body cleaves into his. “I can't promise anything,” I breathe, clutching at his shoulders.

“I can,” he rasps huskily, and kisses me hard and fast. My mouth gasps open as he pulls away, and slams me roughly against the wall. I love the pain it brings and welcome it. “I need you.”

Admitting nothing, I nevertheless grasp the back of his neck and yank his lips back to mine. Soon, we lose ourselves in the sweaty steam and he's inside me again, and nothing- nothing else matters but that.

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