It's so hot out here. Heat moves and expands and drives people crazy. It's making me feel like I want to climb out of my skin. Run and find another body. Sweat and dirt creeps over my face and neck and my eyes burn with sand. We're building some sort of shelter out of wood, rocks and palm fronds. My back aches and my ears buzz.

Angel is shirt-less and I watch his muscles ripple as he hefts huge logs onto his shoulders. Even without his vampiric strength he can still work. Damnit. I hate him.

I've noticed that seems to be a mantra for me lately. I hate him. I really do. I hate Angel. Why? I don't know. Because he left me? Because he bit me and left me high and dry and wanting needing something…for years and years? Because he never seemed to suffer much in LA? Because he fucked Darla and not me? It's not like I still feel jealous over that.

Maybe it's because I still remember University. I still recall the nights I would wake up with Riley beside me and for a moment…he was a stranger in my bed. My sleepy mind was terrified…who is this man?

Of course it was only a brief second. But it was enough to make the anger building towards Angel well in my throat and choke me. It was enough to make me push Riley farther and farther away. I knew I was doing it, to. I bull-shitted to everyone…why did Riley leave me? Why? Yeah, sure, Buffy. I knew why. Because I didn't love him. Because he wasn't supposed to be the one making love to me, coming inside me.

Some nights I would lie awake and stare at the ceiling. Just stare with empty eyes and restless hands. They'd flutter and shake, and I would press them down on the bed, trying to still the movements. Those were the nights I would go out and hunt, go out and kill. Go out and try to exorcise Angel from me. He was still inside me, breathing down my neck and mocking me with insane desire. So I'd stake vampires, press the wood into their hearts and feel power. Ha, ha guys…you can't exist anymore. Not with me around. Go back to fucking Hell and stay there.

Then there were those nights…they were few and far between. But they'd happen. Riley would have sex with me and do all the things that made me come. He'd do it fine and all would be well. But then later…I'd have pulled away from him in sleep. The clean white sheets under me, the cotton smell in my nose.

I'd dream of Angel.

It didn't happen often, cause I learned how to control it. But there were those nights… where I would dream of him. Sticky dreams that had been panting and moaning under him. That had me screaming his name and wrapping my arms and legs around him so tight that he should have broken. Dreams where I'd kiss him with my gasping mouth and he would drown his tongue against my lips.

Dreams where he fucked me. Dreams where I fucked him.

He wasn't loving me in those dreams and I wasn't loving him. But he was inside me and he was filling me up and I felt like I was breaking into millions of pieces.

Every time I woke up afterwards I would cry. Because I could still taste him and smell him and I was wet. And everything was wrong. Riley didn't look like a stranger when I woke up on those nights. But he did look like someone that wasn't Angel.

Shaking slightly and bending down, I pick up another bunch of leaves and brilliant green fronds, piling them into my thin arms and adding a few flowers for good measure. “Buffy?”

“Yeah?”

“It's done. You want to come see?”

Oh, sure. Sure I want to. I walk over to the edge of the forest where he has built it and gaze in astonishment. I should have know he would be perfect at everything. Damn him. I hate him so much. He has constructed a large shelter made out of logs and rocks with an over hang. Coming closer, he takes the palm fronds gently out of my hands, along with the leaves and begins to intertwine them among the logs. “They'll keep us dry,” he explains to me as if he gets trapped on a tropical island every day and this is old hat.

“Will they?” I answer snarkily and stretch my sore muscles, hearing my bones creak a little. If only I wasn't so thin. Why didn't I eat more when I had the chance?

I hear him let out all his breath in an annoyed rush and then he snaps, “You know…I really don't think of the two people here, you're the one who should be throwing stones.”

“I didn't know I was,” I reply and whirl away to get some more leaves. I don't hear him come up behind me until he grabs my arm and spins me around. My face knocks into his chest. His bare chest. God… I'd forgotten how small I am in comparison to him. I'd forgotten the way he makes me dizzy and alive all at once. I'd forgotten the way he smells when he's sweaty. Like sugar and salt and roses. Like my past and all the nights we would train and I'd want him so badly that I'd bite my lip to keep from screaming. He smells like what I cannot have.

“Angel…please…” I mutter and pull away. “Don't do this. Can't we just not talk and then go home and forget this every happened?”

“We don't know how soon we're getting out of here,” he tells me with brutal honesty and then reaches out to touch my cheek with his palm. “I don't want to fight with you, Buffy. That's the last thing I want.”

Instinctively, I curl a little into his hand and look up at him with weary eyes. “You must hate me… you hate me, don't you?”

“Was that what you wanted when you left?” he asks shortly and takes his fingers away as if he's been burned.

“I don't know,” I answer helplessly. “I just wanted…to show you what it felt like.”

“Thanks,” he responds tersely and rakes his hand through his tousled hair. It is messy, sticking up every which way. “Look…I stopped being angry a while ago. I guess I just never understood…how you could have left. After that night. I thought…I remember thinking we were finally going to be ok. But then I woke up, and you were gone. And the next time I see you, we're on a crashing plane. This is a little strange.”

“Did you…look for me?” I can't resist inquiring as I stare blankly out at the ocean. It is restless, curling on the shore in all its creamy brilliance.

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“I sometimes I think I'll always be looking for you, Buffy,” he informs me huskily and turns away. “We should start a fire. And try and find some dinner. Are you hungry?”

I think about that. “I guess. Honestly, I couldn't really tell you. My stomach stopped growling a while ago.”

His eyes are on my flat belly now and I breathe in sharply as he touches it with his thumb. “You need to eat more. I can see your ribs.” One long sleek finger traces the line of my concave midriff, up to my ribs and back down to my lower belly.

“I… I know…I guess I don't have much time for food.”

“You never really did,” he replies with a faint smile and leaves me standing on the edge of the forest, my world falling down around my knees again.

~~~

I watch the sky begin to blacken with tired eyes. A day here. We've been here a day and there hasn't been any planes or boats or anything remotely resembling a rescue yet. For the thousandth time I wonder if anyone else got away from the drowning plane other than us.

“Do you want some fish?”

Angel gestures to a stone where newly cooked fish lie. He went out earlier with a long piece of wood he sharpened with a rock and speared a couple of fish. Beside them lie the berries we collected. It all makes my stomach turn for a second. I don't like fish but I know I have to eat.

“Thanks,” I say softly and pick up a piece, biting into it. We eat in silence for long moments, beside the crackling fire, the flames jumping and casting strange shadows across our faces.

“Where did you go?” he asks suddenly. “After you left that morning.”

“To the cemetery,” I answer truthfully, swallowing, my throat heavy. “I went to see Mom and Dawnie.”

“I go sometimes to see them,” he informs me quietly and stares out at the black ocean.

“I know.” My voice is soft. “I see the white roses.”

“You must think of them every day,” he says without inflection. “I'm sorry I couldn't save Dawn against Glory. I didn't even see it happen.”

“I know,” I respond and gaze into the middle distance, the breeze across my back suddenly cold. “I didn't either… and I do think of them. With Dawn…it's guilt. I should have saved her…should have known that Glory was going to try and use her. But I was so preoccupied with getting everything together, with fighting the final fight. I tried to look after her as well but I couldn't.” My voice cracks and breaks as I continue. “Do you know…she called for me? When Glory killed her trying to get into the dimension… Buffy…save me… that's what she said. And I didn't.” I can feel the scalding tears on my cheeks, running down my neck and dripping onto my shirt.

Angel is beside me, and he reaches out, drawing me onto his lap. I curve my body into his gratefully and his hands are strong on my lower back. He doesn't say anything. There's nothing to say.

~~~

The shelter is jumping with shadows from the fire. Angel has laid huge leaves on the sandy bottom and I lower my body onto them. Angel lies beside me on his stomach, his head resting on his arms. His eyes aren't open, but I know he is aware of every move I make.

I stare up at the moon. It's silvery and blue, so close that I can see the craters. I imagine the way it must feel up there, bouncing lightly, the ground spongy and powdery. I think about looking back on earth and seeing how big it is. Then I think of how small Angel and I are, lost in this massive ocean. Out there somewhere is the wreckage of the plane that twisted our lives and changed our direction.

I wonder why we are always thrown together. And as I roll onto my side and stare at his sleeping face, I wonder why I left him. Why I woke up after I spent the night in his strong arms, after I felt safe for the first time in years… why I awoke and wanted to throw up and pulled on my clothes and left him. Alone in the bed, with my smell still on his skin.

Maybe I because I was tired of being afraid. Or maybe because I wanted to be the one that left, that broke hearts and left and made a new life.

I don't know. But I used to dream of the way his face looked as he slept that morning. Content, smooth, alive.

I'd wake up after those nights with tears on my face and hands that shook.

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