RATING: PG
CONTENT WARNING: Buffy/Angel angst.
SUMMARY: This happens exactly 3 years after Becoming II. Please be warned that we are experimenting with an alternating story-telling style. Lil-Wolf will be writing the odd numbered sections, ie. "the past", Willow rescuing Angel from Hell. I am writing the even numbered sections, ie. "the present", from Buffy's perspective. There may be some logical flow sacrificed for the sake of emotional symmetry and artistic endeavor, but I believe that the overall affect will make it worthwhile. :)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy & Co. Joss Whedon and the WB do. No copyright infringement intended..

and I forgot to tell you
I love you
and the night's too long
and cold here without you
I grieve in my condition
for I cannot find the strength to say I need you so
"I Love You" by Sarah McLachlan

Buffy stopped at the door of her hotel room to cast a longing glance back at Angel. She didn't want their time together to end, even for a little while. Angel stood in the middle of the living room, watching her with those sad, dark eyes of his. He looked so lost that her heart twisted with despair. Why couldn't they ever seem to communicate? Angel looked like he wanted to say something, so Buffy waited expectantly. Hopefully.

They'd barely spoken to one another, conversing only when absolutely necessary. Silence and covert looks of longing characterized their trip to the hotel. They'd shared a silent lunch in the hotel restaurant. Each watched the other fearfully, like children lost in a desert of mirages longing for home. Each feared the other to be nothing more than just a mirage and each feared rejection too much to reach out. It was the longest lunch of Buffy's life. She'd rather face a Master vampire than go through that ever again.

By the same token, simply being with him was heaven. This was as close as she'd been to happiness in well over three years. She just wished she could understand why he wouldn't talk to her. Was he so angry with her that he couldn't bring himself to speak to her? Did he simply lack something to say? She had millions of questions, but his brooding silence kept her from asking. He wore an intimidating emotional shell that made him seem distant and unapproachable. She kept thinking that they should talk about something. Anything…

What had happened to her friends and family over the last three years? How exactly had Willow rescued Angel from Hell? And how on earth had his soul been restored in the first place…? It couldn't have been Willow; Xander would have warned her. Xander… He was too good a friend to lie to her, wasn't he…? She prayed that he hadn't deceived her. Buffy clenched her teeth. . If he'd lied, if she'd unnecessarily condemned Angel to Hell... She just might kill him.

She sighed and reached back to grab her door handle. Staring at Angel wasn't solving anything. She needed time to think and she wanted to read the letters from her family in private. Angel would still be here tonight. Maybe she could coax him out of his mood over dinner. This silence couldn't continue much longer; it was driving her nuts. Already, it was really wearing out her patience.

"I'll call SFX in the morning and make reservations for a flight back to LA," Angel offered, trying to answer what he thought was her unvoiced question. Desperately, he wished that she'd just ask. Her silence confused him; he'd almost have preferred angry words and condemnation. Buffy had stopped speaking to him after they'd left her apartment and he couldn't understand why.

Angel tried to remain quiet out of respect for her wishes. He didn't want to intrude on her privacy with his unwelcome presence anymore than he had to. He must be an extremely unpleasant reminder of their terrible past. Once he'd taken her home, he resolved to leave. He'd go to Europe, or maybe home to Ireland. That way Buffy wouldn't have to endure his presence. Willow would understand…

Buffy nodded absently, and silence descended again. Shrugging, she gave up. Finally, she turned back to her room.

"I'm sorry."

Buffy stopped, almost thinking that she'd imagined that anguished apology. He'd barely spoken above a whisper; she wouldn't have heard him at all if not for her acute hearing. She shook her head, confused. Sorry for what? Angel had nothing to apologize for.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, managing to croak out the apology. He knew that she didn't want to hear it. A million apologies wouldn't make things right. He had to try though. He had to let her know that he wasn't walking around with a clean conscience. "I'm sorry for the terrible things that I said to you, and for all of the terrible things that I did. I know that nothing can ever make it up to you, but I want you to know that I'm sorry."

Buffy's spine stiffened, becoming rigid. Abruptly, she understood why he was apologizing. Guilt. His guilt. Of course, she should have known. Angel was suffering for everything that the demon had done. She knew that he'd beat himself up for every sin that monster had committed, whipping himself with guilt and shame.

It made her furious to think of what he must be putting himself through. Damn! She should have known! She should have dealt with this immediately! He'd always blamed himself for the demon's actions, deluding himself into believing that he was somehow responsible for what the demon had done. Angel couldn't separate himself from the demon within his own mind, because the memories were too vivid, too real.

In her own mind, Buffy had no problem separating them. Good and bad, love and hate, friend and foe. Angel and demon… Damn! She'd been selfish in her suffering, allowing it to cloud her common sense. Her bag dropped to the ground with a loud thud. White-hot anger, with both him and herself, lanced through her body.

She spun back to him, determined to stop his pain, to end his needless suffering. She'd never been angrier in her entire life. "Stop it!" she snarled, shocking him. "Stop feeling guilty right now!" she commanded. Buffy settled into Slayer mode as her true fury surfaced. Strong and intimidating at sixteen, she seemed invincible now. Angel's jaw dropped open; he hadn't expected his rather pathetic apology to provoke an attack. "That wasn't you," she ground out at him. "That was THE DEMON."

"No, I--"

"SHUT UP!" She grabbed the lapels of his jacket, nearly hauling him off of his feet. Angel didn't think to resist.

"But I hurt you," he whispered, nearly in tears. Angel couldn't stop remembering her tears, tears that he had caused. He couldn't shake the memories plaguing him.

It took all of Buffy's self-control not to shake him for being so dense. Instead, she got in his face. "Not you. HIM. I *knew*," she snarled ever so softly. "That wasn't you." His lips parted slightly and his eyes clearly registered blank shock. "I NEVER BLAMED YOU. IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT," Buffy continued to growl, deliberately spelling it out for him. GRRR...

"I tried to kill you," he protested. Why was she having so much trouble with this concept? He'd had the exact same messed up argument with Willow more times than he could count. He didn't want to admit it, but she'd been starting to wear him down. Angel was tired and it would be so easy to let go of the guilt and believe... Now Buffy stood here repeating the exact same words to him as if she were speaking to a very slow child. Was it really possible that he might be wrong...?

"No," she denied. "He tried to kill me. He tried to drive me insane. You were gone." Buffy sucked in a harsh breath. "Do you want to know something, something that I never told anyone, not even Willow?"

His face settled into a mask. This must be bad if she couldn't share it with Willow. Mentally, he prepared himself and nodded.

Buffy hesitated, before beginning. "He never even really hurt me all that much, especially once I found out what had happened. His attempts to 'drive me nuts' were kind of pathetic, almost laughable..." Buffy trailed off. Then, she shrugged, looking ashamed. "I would have killed him, but I kept hoping that somehow we'd find a way to get you back. A lot of people died because of my failure."

"No," he contradicted her. "They died because of me. My fault, not yours."

Buffy waved that aside. She didn't want to argue with him about blame, that would take years. "That's not true. You feel guilty and you shouldn't." She shook her head, her hands gentling on his lapels as she caressed the material absently. She loved his clothes, she always had. She loved touching him...

"Angel, he couldn't even hurt me very much. Little hurts maybe, like pinpricks." She swallowed against her raw, dry throat. Her eyes dropped from his and his hands settled gently upon her shoulders, offering support. "The really deep hurt was reserved for you. Deep down, I was hurting so much for you that I barely even noticed him. I was too busy blaming myself for what I'd done to you and missing what I'd lost." Summoning all of her courage, she lifted her eyes. "He never touched the real me, not the way you did." The way he still did...

Angel couldn't believe his ears. If they hadn't been holding onto one another, he probably would have fallen over. Was he really hearing this? Buffy didn't hate him. She didn't even BLAME him for what had happened. In his heart, a stubborn, beautiful tendril of hope took root. He frowned. If she really didn't hate him, then why...?

"If anyone should apologize, it's me, not you," she whispered, finally releasing his lapels. Angel rocked back, off balance. Flailing for balance, he wished that he'd had a better grip on her shoulders.

"What on earth for?!" he exclaimed, trying not to fall over. He sounded utterly astonished.

Buffy sucked in a harsh breath. "Christ Angel! I destroyed you! Not once, but twice! I was stupid and selfish that night in the rain. You tried to warn me but I wouldn't listen. Because of me, you lost your soul!"

Angel finally managed to right himself. "You didn't destroy me," he whispered. "You set me free and lifted a curse. No matter what followed, in and of itself, that is a good thing."

He made it sound so simple. She shook her head, unwilling to relinquish her guilt. "I did it again the night Acathla woke up," she protested. "Goddammit, Angel!" she cursed again. Buffy glared at him. "I told you to close your eyes and I ran you through! I sent you to Hell!"

"You did what you had to do."

"That doesn't make it right! I loved you. Not the world," Buffy whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks. "The world pretty much sucks. Do you know what the real clincher was, what made me run?" she asked, driven to continue with her confession. Now that she'd begun, she wanted to see this through to completion.

Angel shook his head. He still didn't know quite how to react to all of this. Her words rang in his ears. 'I loved you...' Loved, not love? He felt his reawakened hope beginning to wilt. Did that mean she didn't love him anymore, or was he reading too much in to it? Or not enough? He didn't know what to say, but he could see that she needed closure more than anything. He would see this through with her, if it meant she could finally begin healing. He would listen, if that would make her feel better.

"It was the LOOK on your face," she stated. "The HURT, the BETRAYAL. You were so innocent, so trusting." She shook her head, heartbroken. "You didn't even understand WHY I betrayed you, but you reached for me anyway." A single tortured tear trickled down her cheek. "I'll never live that down, Angel. I'll never forget."

Angel stared at Buffy for a long moment. He clearly remembered what she'd just described; it was among the worst of his nightmares. He relived it every night in his dreams. First came the confusion and disorientation of having his soul restored. Then came her "betrayal", the pain, and the horrible lack of understanding. WHY? Had he said something, done something, disappointed her in bed...?

Buffy wrapped her arms around herself, looking small, helpless and lost. Angel felt shocked. She really considered THAT to have been a betrayal? She thought that he *blamed her* for saving the world? He shook his head in disbelief. Buffy mistook his action, his silence for condemnation. She began sobbing in earnest.

Abruptly, Angel shook his head, throwing off the confusion. She was right, he hadn't understood. Her supposed betrayal had hurt worse than the sword, and the memory had tormented him for two and a half long years in Hell. Love, loyalty, friendship betrayed... But THAT simply didn't matter.

Angel didn't hesitate, he let go of himself and put her needs before his own. He didn't matter; she did. He smiled and lied. "You're wrong. I knew all along why you had to sacrifice me. I was just a little disoriented at first."

The steady strength in his voice reached her. Buffy lifted her eyes to his, seeking a reprieve from her own pain and guilt. Was it true? She searched his eyes, finding only love and forgiveness. Wanting to believe, she didn't look any deeper. It was like a huge weight lifting off of her shoulders. She'd walked like a hunchback for the last three years under the weight of that guilt. Suddenly, she felt free.

"Let go of the past and your guilt, Buffy," Angel told her gently. "Begin to live again and let old wounds heal." He began to back away from her and managed a faint smile with some difficulty. His feet were carrying him in the wrong direction. He so very much wanted to take her into his arms and simply hold her.

That wouldn't be fair though. She deserved time and space. It had to be her decision, not his. "It sounds like neither of us blames the other nearly as much as we blame ourselves," he stated. Then, he turned his back to her and fled. If he touched her now, he wouldn't ever be able to let go.

Buffy didn't say anything, but something forced him to stop before he entered his room. His hand closed on the knob. Before he turned back to her, he pushed the door open, leaving himself a path of escape. She watched him, puzzled and oddly hopeful.

"Buffy?" Their eyes met; her eyebrows lifted. "I'd close my eyes again." His heart landed at her feet like a sacrifice. "If you asked."

Then he stepped into his room and quietly closed the door behind him. Buffy stared after him in amazement. After all this time, he still knew how to make a spectacular exit.

CONTINUE