I love training.

That is, I love training with Angel. He's holding the pads as I punch and kick and jab. I'm sweating, rivulets of salty water running down my neck and disappearing underneath the hem of my tank top. Every so often he licks his lips and I know he's imagining what it would be like to taste me right now.

I sometimes wonder why I'm training when I know what my fate is. Maybe it's just the Slayer thing. We need to keep on fighting. Or maybe I'm just in denial. That could be it.

My punches are getting harder and Angel looks worried. He can see the tears in my eyes. It seems as though I can't go a day without crying now. I feel like a wuss, but maybe that's just what happens when you know you're going to die, and very soon.

“Buffy…” he takes away his hands and envelops me in his arms. I press my face against his chest. I don't want to move.

~~~

From: WiccaSister89@hotmail.com
To: Buffy16@hotmail.com
Subject: It's been a while…
Date: Feb 19th 2000

Hey Buffy,

It's been a while! I hear you're training hard, I assume with Angel. It's great that you guys have managed to work things out.

I've got something to tell you. I've been too embarrassed and confused to…but I have to, before the End of Days. Tara…well, she's my girlfriend. Does that freak you out? Please say it doesn't. Seriously, I've been so worried about coming clean about this. We just…fell in love. I hardly saw it coming. It's not about the girl/girl thing, it's more just that she's the 'person' for me.

I know you're probably wondering about Oz. I can't say I'm over him. After all, we shared so much. But he is of the past. I guess that's all I can say about him. I miss him still, every day, but it's this part of me that I feel is the old me. Does that make sense? Anyway, I don't know what I'll do if he comes back, but as each day passes, I don't think he will. It just gets more and more impossible to imagine him walking through the door.

Moving on is a funny thing. I never thought I'd do it, and maybe I haven't. But my heart recovered from Oz, so I guess I'm stronger than I thought. Who would've guessed?

Anyway, please write back and tell me all that's been happening…I know the Council left?? Are they coming back for the fight…are we going to see you before then? I miss you Buffy,

W

~~~

From: Snoopy56@hotmail.com
To: Buffy16@hotmail.com
Subject: Hey stranger
Date: Feb 20th 2000

Buff,

Hey, what's going on? Will tells me she got a letter from you and you're training like crazy. I assume that's time-consuming. We miss you. Are you going to come down and see us…before the fight?

Don't even think that I'm going to say goodbye. No way. I know you'll be back. You'll fight your way through it. How could you not? You're Buffy, hello!

Love and skittles,

Xander

~~~

I don't cry after I read Xander's e-mail. My eyes are dry, and itchy. Sometimes I think I could be lying before him, my belly sliced open, my mouth trickling blood, my eyes red…and he would think that I was going to bounce back. That I would somehow become his hero again.

He told me I was his hero at the start of freshman year. It didn't make me feel good. I thought it would. I thought it should. But when he said that, I longed to be no one's hero. I was so cut open from the long lonely months of the summer and no one seemed to care. They just wanted me to be who I was again. Before Angel. Before he left.

But they didn't see that that was impossible. They didn't get that I was close to the edge… that I was spinning and about to fall. They didn't see that he had left me a shell of my old self. I guess they didn't realize he was a part of me.

I am pathetic. Here I am in the school café, looking at my e-mail and wanting to scream and knock over the computer like a crazy person. Maybe I am insane. Sometimes I wonder if I am or not. I could be. Everyone is laughing and talking, and the sound of the clicking keyboards fills my ears. It smells like coffee and machinery in here, like icing and cookies and modems. It makes me sick and I press my hand to my belly, standing up and grabbing my coat.

I can hear the waves. The ocean isn't near, but I can hear it. Crashing on the shore, the gulls keening, the smell of the hot sand and the sunshine. God, I need to get away. Leaving the café, my hands shake as they root around in my bag for change for the bus. Damnit. My fingers are trembling so much I can barely close them around the coins rattling around at the bottom of the cloth purse.

Walking to the bus stop, my hair flies behind me and I catch a guy checking me out. I wonder what he would say if he knew I was going to die in a week or so, in a huge battle to save the planet. He'd probably check me into an insane asylum where no one could ever find me again.

The bus ride is long and hot. The woman sitting next to me looks sad, like a lot of women in LA. Her eyes are hollow and purple. I guess none of her dreams came true. A lot of people come here for the glitter and the tinsel, and find it's really just a place with a lot of palm trees and hookers. Her legs have burn marks on them and I stare. She looks as if the life has been sucked out of her.

I wonder if I look like that to.

~~~

As I enter Angel Investigations, I hear laughter. Walking through the door, I watch with numb eyes as Angel lifts Cordelia into a hug, and she kisses his cheek. He smiles and they look happy. I clear my throat and Angel breaks away from her almost guiltily. “Don't let me stop you,” I mutter, dropping my bag on the floor and crossing my arms.

Cordelia gazes at me with her dark eyes and then shrugs. “Gotta go.”

“Ok,” Angel grins and touches her arm. He turns to me after she's gone and holds out his hands. “Hey, love, you're home early.”

“Obviously,” I respond, and don't take his hands.

He looks confused and his eyebrows knit together. “What's the matter?”

“Oh nothing…” I reply flippantly. “I enjoy coming home and seeing my boyfriend all over his co-worker.”

Angel stares at me consideringly, as if he's trying to figure out whether or not I've lost my mind. “Buffy, you can't actually think—“

“Why not?” I inquire. “I know how close you and Cordy got…best friends or whatever. That's fine. That's so fine…”

“Buffy!” he protests as I begin to leave the room, but I hold up my arms, almost hysterically and ward him off.

“Don't,” I say coldly, my voice etched with terror and anger. He drops his hands and his eyes are wary. He looks at me like he doesn't know me and that makes the tears come. I leave the apartment without another word.

I walk around LA until 11 at night before I finally return. I wonder if Angel's going to be waiting up for me, and I hurts to find that he isn't. What am I doing? That's what I think as I stand over our bed, watching him. His arm is out stretched, as if trying to find me. Taking off my clothes, I slip between the covers and burrow underneath the weight of his arm. He mumbles something in his sleep and pulls me close. His skin is cool, and I close my eyes.

~~~

It's dark when I wake up but I can tell its morning. Angel still sleeps beside me. In the day, I'm ashamed of the way I acted. I'm jealous of Cordy? It makes me cringe. I never thought I was the jealous type until I met Angel. Then, Boom! And what with the Faith fiasco and Drusilla and Darla…I realized I did have that proverbial green monster inside me. I don't know what I'm going to say to him. Usually we wake up in the morning together, still drowsy from sleep and make love, our eyes bleary and our mouths hungry. It's sweet and precious to me. Today I know we're not going to have that. It's all my fault.

Padding through to the bathroom, I turn on the shower. Hot water gushes out, and it's a shock as it hits me. Standing underneath the torrent, I lift my face up and feel like sobbing. I'm being irrational, and there's nothing I hate more.

“Buffy.”

His voice. He opens the shower door and he's staring at me. I'm naked, my skin flushed from the heat of the water, my hair dripping down my back like yellow fire. My mouth opens, maybe to say I'm sorry, or something inane like that, but he groans and steps in, taking me in his arms.

Oh God yes. This is what I want. No talk. Just this. The cool tiles against my back are a surprise as he kisses me, his tongue swirling and plunging into my mouth. His skin is cool and mine isn't. We're like fire and ice and I'm burning, burning, burning as he presses into me.

The heavy rose scent of my bath oil mixes in with the musky smell of our bodies as his hands claw at my neck and hair, lifting the weight of it off my back so he can kiss my shoulders. I'm desperate for him, my teeth against his wet chest, my lips seeking out his flesh with hunger. “Angel…” I'm whimpering and he kisses me in response.

Maybe he doesn't want to hear my voice. Maybe he doesn't want to be reminded of his weakness. His tongue flicks out and explores my collarbone and my neck, his hands gripping my hips with silky pressure. My back hurts as it is slammed against the side of the shower. I don't care. I feel like I'm coming apart. My head is woozy from the hot water and the steam rises, enveloping us in billowy clouds of heat. The flood of him is hot inside me, down my thighs and into me, filling me up.

He cries out my name then. Just once, as we explode together. It sounds like it hurts him to say it. I want to laugh. It probably does. He carries me into the bedroom, and lays me down on the duvet. My eyes are wide as they stare up at him, wondering what he's going to do. He sighs and regards me. “I'm going to go make some breakfast,” he utters gently. “Then you're going to tell me what's going on.” After he pulls on a towelling robe, he leaves the room.

My body flops back, weary and exhausted. What am I supposed to say to him? How can I force out the words? Oh God. I cover myself with the blankets and worry it between my fingers, listening to him crash about in the kitchen.

He returns with my favourite breakfast dish, Belgian waffles and that makes me smile. As I bite into the whipped cream and berries, he watches me pensively. “Were you actually jealous of Cordy?” he asks, as if he still can't believe it.

“Is that so hard to believe?” I counter, avoiding his gaze as I munch on the meal with vigour.

He nods. “Yes, it is. For you to be jealous of Cordy is strange to me. Buffy…you know you're the only woman I could ever love. You are the only woman I love.” My heart cracks as he says it. He told me that back in High School and then turned around and broke up with me. “I care about Cordy, of course, she's a great friend. But you…Buffy…” he trails off.

“I'm just being irrational I guess,” I shrug and lean back against the pillows. “Angel…I've never understood I guess…why you love me? I mean seriously, have you looked in the mirror lately?”

He deals me a wry glance and I flush.

“I mean figuratively…I guess I've just never understood why someone like you would want someone like me.”

He sighs and takes my hands and this time I don't pull away. “Buffy…I love you so much…its almost painful.” He closes his eyes and a shudder goes through his body. “I've never loved anyone else. Please, love, believe that no one could ever be what you are to me. Not Cordy…not anyone.”

“I know…rationally I know…” I reply and crawl over so I can snuggle onto his lap. “Angel?” I ask suddenly. “What do you think you're going to do after I die?”

He flinches and rests his forehead against mine, stroking my hair. “You're not going to die.”

I hate when he does this. Denies the truth, pretends it isn't real. He did that with the first prophecy to. He urged me to accept that yes, it was my destiny, but not really, because we could find a way around it. “I am,” I argue implacably and he buries his face against my shoulder, holding onto me so tight I think I'm going to be crushed. I like it. It makes me feel dizzy and needed.

“What are you going to do?” I ask again. “Do you think you'll get married? I wonder what your kids will be like or what—“ He cuts me off as he spins me around and kisses me. He doesn't want to think. He wants to get lost in me. I understand that. Suddenly I want more than anything to be young. I want us to do something care free, adolescent-like. Something mindless. Something…

“Let's do something fun today,” I say, and he looks at me, a little confused, then he laughs.

“Fun? I don't even remember what that's like.”

I giggle and vault out of bed, pulling on jean capris and a tank top, and running to the window. “It's cloudy out, no sun. Let's go to that fair on the Santa Monica pier. I know the sewer system is close by in case you need to make an emergency exit.”

“I can smell the sun before it comes out anyway,” he adds, obviously wanting to be convinced. Nodding, I urge him to get dressed and grab my bag.

“We can go on the Ferris wheel and eat cotton candy till we throw up,” I proclaim excitedly and he shoots me a tender look, pulling on his clothes and fetching his keys.

~~~

We drive to the fair in his black car and I hold his hand, determined to forget about everything else in our lives today. We haven't had a time out like this since our dinner together a month ago. When we reach the Santa Monica pier, I'm relieved to see its busy and crawling with people. It smells like the ocean, like ride grease and paint and candy corn. It smells like my childhood.

~~~~

When I was little I remember my parents taking me to an amusement park outside of LA. It was a huge rickety place, full of carnival workers and little kids with bored parents. I was excited of course, being a girl who loved adventure and super heroes. My mother hated the rides, so my Dad took me on the roller coasters. They were so old and wooden that every single second on them was a risk. That made it even better.

If I concentrate hard I can still taste the corn dogs we ate that day, my Dad and I, as we sat on one of the benches while my mother was in the washroom. I wore a ball cap and Dr. Scholl's sandals. Every so often I would lean into my Dad's sun warmed arm and he would peck me on the top of my head.

There was one thing that frightened me. An old woman who was supposed to be a fortune-teller. She was a gypsy and had a tent set up. She tried to get me to come to her. Her eyes were bright and ancient. She wore purple robes and looked like she ate people for breakfast. I was scared of her, and my hands trembled as she stared at me.

“Come here, child,” she murmured. “I just want to read the crystal ball for you.”

I knew she was going to tell me bad things. I shook my head and walked the other way. I never told anyone about that. Maybe that was my first clue.

My future was not going to be roses.

~~~

As we park the car, I get out and Angel takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. I lean into him and we walk into the melee. “Which ride first?” he asks cheerfully and I'm so happy to be with him in that moment. He's such a good sport. I've made his life hell these last few months, but he still wants to make me content.

“The Ferris wheel,” I answer with certainty. It was always my favourite ride. He nods and we run like children to the ride, taking the last bucket. Angel puts the safety bar down and takes my hand again, smiling down into my eyes. He knows I want to have a normal day. My head finds his shoulder and he kisses my hair, and we're like a regular couple on a date.

Sitting on the beach, the island king of love, deep in Fijian seas
Deep in some blissful dream
Well the goddess finally sleeps in the lap of her lover
Subdued in all her rage

We eat cotton candy. Angel gets blue and I get pink. It was my favourite flavour as a kid. He picks me up and carries me in his arms, listening to me laugh as he whirls me around and the lights of the fair begin to melt into a kaleidoscope of pinks, yellows, greens…

The stillness in your eyes, convinces me that I, I don't know a thing
and I've been around the world and I, I've tasted all the wines
a half a billions times, came sinking to your shores

We go on the roller coaster, and my hair whips us both and our mouths go wide with screams of laughter. He looks happy and I look content and he holds my hand. We kiss and giggle, our foreheads banging together as the ride bends around the corners. “Angel!!” I scream, my voice young.

“This is a horrible ride!” he cries above the sound of the wind rushing by our ears.

“Too slow for you?!” I yell back, my lips curved in a laugh that nothing can break.

“You got that right!” he shouts back and we go around a curve, falling, falling, and flying. My head rushes with adrenaline and my fingers crush his. He squeezes my hand and risks a kiss, our mouths bruised with our bumping teeth. It hurts and I yelp, giggling exuberantly. I've never felt so happy. I don't care what's coming. No one can ever take this day away.

You show me what this life is for…

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