It takes a week for the withdrawal to lessen. A week full of vomit and blood. Full of sweat and screams and whispered words. Full of my raspy voice, of my bony knees trying to crawl, and full of such stabbing pain that I wanted to die a thousand times.

On the eighth day, I wake up and turn my head to look for Angel. He's standing at the window, watching the sun rise over the City. The duvet covers me and smells like him and fabric softener. With help from my elbows, I sit up and say, “Can we go out today?”

He looks at me with his dark eyes and raised eyebrows. “Where do you want to go?”

“To the park,” I answer softly, thinking of the lush grass. My skin hurts and there is an immediate throb behind my chest. Bearing it, I stand up on shaky legs and go into the bathroom. Choking back the urge to throw up, I brush my teeth and fix my hair. My face is hollowed out and I look like death. But at least I'm not dead. That's what I keep thinking.

Angel helps me dress with tender fingers, in jeans and a sweater that he bought me a couple days previously. Parts of me want to hide the bandages on my arms, the visible jut of my collar bone, the slenderness of my calves. So I don the clothes like armour and take Angel's hand.

We take a taxi to Central Park. It's Autumn and the sun hurts my eyes. But the greenness of the park is a welcome contrast to the grey City and as we enter, I am caught up in the smell of leaves and raked grass. We could be any normal couple, walking amongst the trees and surrounding skyscrapers. “Are you feeling a little better today?” he inquires finally, breaking the tenuous silence.

“A little,” I respond and scuff my feet in the dirt, inhaling the sunshine and earth smell of the fall, my footfalls light and careful. His fingers embrace mine and I can feel the tiny reassurance of his pulse against my wrist. “I just needed to get out for a while.”

We sit at a fountain and watch the way the water trickles against the stone. “Angel…do you think I could have saved Dawn?” I inquire quietly and if he's surprised he doesn't show it.

“No,” he responds firmly. “She was a key to something we didn't even understand Buffy…I don't think she could have been saved. Besides, I'm not sure that she could have lived after the End of Days anyhow.”

I trail my fingers in the water and look at the blue veins underneath my skin. Dawn once asked me if what was inside her was blood. I replied that it was the same as mine. “Summers blood.” She doesn't have blood anymore. But then again, mine is so diseased maybe I don't either. I've pumped so much into it that its riddled with alien matter. The water of the fountain is cold. I watch as my flesh begins to tinge with cool silver. Angel isn't looking at me.

“Is that why you got hooked on drugs?” he asks me softly, his eyes scanning the park blankly. “Because you felt guilty?”

“Guilty?” I muster, almost laughing. “Guilt doesn't describe it…you couldn't understand—“

He cuts me off quickly with a slash of his hand in the air. The glint of silver rings flashes across my face as he snaps, “You think I wouldn't understand guilt? I killed more people than all the serial killers in this country combined.”

“It's not the same,” I reply and ignore the anger in his eyes. “I should have saved them…don't you understand that? It was my job…my job as the Slayer. I had been training for half my life for the End of Days and I failed…how do you think that made me feel?”

He shakes his head. “I don't think it made you turn to drugs.”

“It made me marry Riley,” I shrug and press a shaky hand to my throbbing chest. I realize that my fingers are wet from the water and they leave a stain on the soft material of the sweater. My elbows ache under the thick bandage and I can feel my eyes tearing up. God I want to shoot up. “It made me actually think I could lose myself in him. It made me forget myself.” I pause for a moment. “Tell me about Katharine.”

“Why?” he inquires in disbelief.

“Just tell me.”

His voice is hesitant. “I met her after I received my Shanshu. She worked at a restaurant Cordy and I went to often. When you…married Riley, I asked her out on a date. Cordy sort of forced me. She told me it was time for me to move on…whatever that means.” He looks almost embarrassed and his gaze his lost. I know he is remembering her and that makes the pulsing need clamp down on my chest and squeeze. Escape is all the bliss I need right now…all the forgetfulness. “We dated for a while. And I asked her to marry me because she was a change from everything else. She was so new, and she didn't know anything about my past. I guess I thought we would be able to start fresh together. I married her and it turned out I was wrong.”

“What was wrong with her?” I ask him, my voice unsteady.

He looks pensively at the water spouting from the angel's mouth in the fountain. “She wasn't you. She could never be you.”

There's no answer to that. So I sit still and wonder how soon winter will come this year.

~~~

He tries to get me to eat dinner. Potatoes and corn and a piece of bread. I manage the bread. But my hands keep trembling and I can barely chew. Smoothing away my frustrated tears, he picks up my body that has nothing to offer but bony limbs and fragile skin and carries me into the darkened living room. Turning on the CD player, he sits down in one corner on the plush carpet and sets me between his legs. Leaning back against his strong chest, I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing with my sore chest and stomach.

John Lennon croons to us from the grave.

Imagine there's no heaven, its easy if you try
No hell below us, above us only sky
Imagine all the people, living for today
Imagine there's no countries, it isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for

“I always liked this song,” I tell Angel and I can feel him smile. I can imagine it.

“It's idealistic,” he responds and I shrug.

“Yeah, well everyone is to some degree.”

We sit in silence for a moment, the shadows of the room melting and moving languidly with the melody. “What's going to happen when this is over?” I ask him quietly.

“When what's over?” he responds, and I know he's trying to figure out an answer to my question so I don't say anything. He sighs. “I suppose we'll just go on, as we always do. Isn't that what our lives have been about? Going on? What did you expect to happen?”

“I don't know,” I comment without any inflection. “Maybe for something to change. Evolve. Don't you feel like we're stuck?”

“With each other?”

“Yeah…its like ever since I knocked you flat on your back in that ally behind the Bronze we've been entangled. Never really apart, never over… we're stuck. It's like we fell into a trap or something…we sealed something.”

I remember that night we first met. He gave me that beautiful cross and sparred with me. He inflamed me even then. His dark eyes drowned me from the beginning. I never could hold my head above water when it came to him. Never could see straight. I tried to annoy him. He told me he wasn't my friend. I wanted more, so that was fine. His grin when I kept him pinned to the ground with my booted foot. The whisper, “I don't bite.”

Now I look back and think that I didn't have a clue. Not a clue what was coming. He was a hot guy to me…someone cryptic. Someone to obsess over with Will. I didn't know I would give myself completely to him. Didn't know he would fall for me, and fuck me and fill me and feed off me. Didn't know I would kill him to save the planet. Didn't know that I would wish for my own death after that. I had no idea what was to come. I still remember the night I gave my blood to save him. When I pulled back the neck of my top and felt his fangs pierce my tender skin. He left me high and dry, unfilled, unsated.

“I know what you mean,” he answers after long moments and his fingers rub my belly with lazy movements. My skin is comforted by his familiar touch. The scars and pain run too deep right now for me to want him. For me to crave his skin and his strength within me like I used to. But I know that could change. He presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“Angel…did you ever think of me when you were with Katharine?”

He doesn't answer for a second. His hands tighten around my waist and the music winds around us. “No. The only time I thought about you was at night. You came into my dreams. I tried to stop it…but that's the time that I couldn't fight it.”

Closing my eyes, I relax against him and he smoothes my cheek. I think I will dream of him and he will dream of me. Because that's the way it is and I wonder why we ever tried to change it.

I think about you all the time
Well I don't need the same
Its lonely where you are
Come back down
I won't tell them your name

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