I'm lying here shivering. I know he turned the heat on, but my body is wracked with tremors and chills so powerful no amount of blankets have been able to ward them off. The aches crawl up my belly, pinching my ribs with claws like knives. I can't breathe.

“Angel?” is that me? My voice is reedy, small.

He lies on the floor, by the bed, staying with me. “Yes?” he asks immediately and sits up, his face shadowed in the early morning dawn. I look outside. We're high up enough that I can see the sky behind the mess of skyscrapers and apartment buildings. It's pink and golden. A new day.

“I can't stand this anymore…” I moan, and am ashamed to do it. “Please…get me something…please…”

He's beside me, his arms going around me. No, no…I don't want him. I want a needle. I want a blackened spoon and a flame. I want powder that I know will go down easy. His arms hurt me. Struggling, my body wrestles with his and I know my eyes burn with hatred. He doesn't look, just holds me, soothing me with words that mean nothing.

“Buffy, Buffy…” he murmurs and I hate it even more than the pain. I hate him more than the pain.

Fiery lava clamps down on my stomach and chest. Choking, I writhe against him. It's too much…too much. I bring a hand to my mouth. “Going to…” He's lifting me up, carrying me into the bathroom. Vomit covers us both. I'm crying, gagging, and he sets me before the toilet, holding me still. Everything wrenches inside me as my innards spew out into the basin, and it's so horrible I'm convinced I'm going to die.

Death would be better than this

My head cracks against the tiled floor as I flop back, panting, my sore midsection stretched with every breath. Angel wipes my face with a damp washcloth and strokes my hair. The tears pool beside my head, as the blood trickles between my teeth. “Are you ok, love?” he whispers, his voice exhausted to the point where it is unrecognisable.

“No…”

My throat hurts and I know it's bleeding. He takes off his stained shirt and leans against the wall, helping me remove my T-shirt. I hear his breathing get deep and ragged. He's asleep. Shaking, I turn over and get on my bony hands and knees, wobbling and trembling as I crawl over to his prone figure. My hands slip on the blood stained floor, my cheeks running with tears. Bending down, I curl up and lay my aching head on his knee.

He smells warm and like home. Even with all the blood, tears, vomit, sorrow that wracks this little room, he smells like sweet sunshine and rain. I close my eyes and sleep.

~~~

I dream of my past. I haven't done so in a long time. The drugs keep me from feeling the terror of memories. But now, with my brain clear, they come rushing back in torrents and gushes I can't stop…

remember…remember…remember

I remember Willow. When she died in my arms during the End of Days fight. The look in her eyes as the blood left her torn chest in a pulpy stream. It was so red against her pale skin. Tara was trying to fight her way towards us, using her spells, her legs, arms, anything to get there in time. Willow's gaze was clear and she touched my face. “I don't blame you, Buffy” she whispered.

What could I say? Don't leave me, Will. Please, you're my best friend…

I just pressed a salty kiss to her brow. “I love you, Will,” I murmured, and held her. Tara and Oz never got to say Goodbye. Yeah, I blame myself for that to.

Anya comes in my dreams. She tells me she misses Xander, but she's waiting for him. That makes me weep. She looks older, her hair brilliant and her skin shadowed. I ask her if she watches him, and she says yes she does. She says she holds him during the night, but he doesn't feel her. I say sorry but I don't think she hears me.

And I remember my wedding day. I wore white, what a joke. My mother insisted. I told her I should be wearing black. She looked bruised from the loss of Dawn and just smiled absently at me. Riley pretended I was marrying him for love. He didn't wonder why I wanted to tie the knot so soon after the funerals or why my eyes looked purple and full of thorns. Angel came, and stood with Cordy and Wes. I remember him showing no expression. His stare was blank. Just empty. As I said the vows, my gaze fled to him, but he was apathetic. I found out at the reception that he was human. Over a bite of white frosted cake with Cordy. And I remember the way it turned to ashes in my mouth and my hands started to shake as I stared at her. She didn't have any sympathy. I don't suppose I expected any.

~~~

I wake up to a soft duvet, and the cool scent of fabric softener. Angel sits on the bed next to me, reading. My bones hurt too much to turn over. “Hi.” My voice is scratchy and raw. He looks down at me and smiles softly.

“Hey.”

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Afternoon, I don't know,” he responds and straightens up, getting up to walk into the kitchen. “I'm gonna get you some food ok? Just little something. You need to eat, Buffy.”

Protesting isn't worth it. The mere mention of food is enough to make me want to run away. But I can't. He returns with a cup of tea and a slice of apple and cheese. Oh, Angel. Parts of me want to smile. He manages to cram nutrients, protein and fat into a little meal. Plus, sugar and milk. “What I could really use is a drink,” I rasp and he smiles.

“I put a little in the tea.”

He feeds me with gentle care and even though the bites of food don't go down as easily as powder would, I swallow them and he strokes my hair. The burn of the sweet alcohol in the tea sweeps into my pores.

“Angel…were you with Faith when she died?” I ask suddenly. He stiffens and sits back, after settling me comfortably in the crook of his arm. I'm so tiny I fit against him perfectly.

“Why do you ask that?” he queries and I know he doesn't like talking about her. The girl he couldn't save. I don't answer and he sighs. “I wasn't with her…she died alone. I saw her right before. She was fighting the snake. As far as I know it snapped her in two…that's what it seemed like when we found her body.”

“Do you…” I pause and ignore the throb in my chest, “ever feel guilty?”

“Yes,” he responds and I feel the beat of his heart against my back. It's so strange that for a second I forget who I'm sitting with. This can't be Angel. This man is warm, his chest rises and falls, he's…alive. His flesh isn't dead. “Sometimes I see them at night…I remember their faces at the funerals. I remember your face at your wedding.”

Swallowing, I shift, my skin starting to hurt from being stretched across my yawning anaemic bones. “Why did you come?”

“I guess I wanted to let you know I was happy you had moved on,” he replies without any inflection in his tone. “You could have come to my wedding and shown the same thing.”

“How could I?” I ask bitterly. “I wasn't glad you moved on. I was so angry I couldn't see straight…you weren't supposed to be happy without me. Don't you get that? I never thought you'd find anyone you loved like you loved me.”

His arms tighten and his fingers are grasping one side of the duvet. “I didn't love Katharine like that…” his tone is harsh and angry, full of pent up frustration that has been allowed to simmer. “Do you think I like looking after you now? Seeing what you've done to yourself…God Buffy, why didn't you try and get help? Why did you do this to yourself?”

Wrenching away from him, I force my creaking body to turn and face his flashing eyes and torment. “You mean I'm not allowed this human weakness?” I screech at him, coughing as I do so. “Not allowed to be imperfect? How many times did you think I could watch someone I love die and not go crazy? Did you think I was going to hear about you marrying another woman and be overjoyed? Wow, gee, glad Angel's moved on…”

He grabs my arms and looks me straight in the eyes. “I thought you might understand…given that you married someone else.”

“I married Riley because I thought I couldn't have you…” I cry hoarsely and feel the tears against my teeth. “Why do I do anything in my life? Because of you…always you, only you…” my sobs come slow and deep, heaving at my chest as if they're trying to pull it apart, break my ribs and spurt blood. “Angel…I have done so many stupid things in my life…but knocking you on your back was the stupidest…that really takes that proverbial cake.” The aching gets worse as I yell, but my rage is boiling over and its like I can't stop. “I should never have fallen for you…never should have fucked you…you know, I used to wonder, after you left…if maybe you'd still write. Maybe a courtesy letter here and there…sorry for stomping on you heart…sorry for everyone I killed. Sorry for drinking you and then spinning off to LA. Maybe even a Birthday card…I can see it now…on this anniversary of the night I first screwed you…”

He turns away, and I leap at him, clawing at his neck with my nails. He yanks me against him, stopping my frantic scratching and I see the tears on his face. I continue, softer, quieter, “And I would have liked a card after your wedding…sorry I got married, Buffy. Sorry I broke my promise to you…sorry I told you, you were the only person in this world that I ever loved…”

“You are the only person I've ever loved…” he whispers, tears dripping over his lips. I don't know if they're his or mine. Salt tastes the same.

Leaning close, I bury my face in his neck. “I'm sorry I killed you back then.”

He breathes in deeply and curls me against him, his hands caressing my little back. “I never blamed you…” he answers quietly, and my sobs soak his shirt.

“But I blamed myself,” I whisper.

Chances are you'll find me, somewhere on your road tonight
Seems I always end up driving by
Ever since I've known you, it just seems you're on the way
All the rules of logic don't apply
I long to see you, in the night, be with you till morning light

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