Chapter 23~ All Or Nothing

He wasn't sure what the hell he was doing. Somewhere between the serenity of the cleansing drive and now, the world had quaked under his feet, knocking him off balance.

Angel had walked into his room and saw her, sleeping peacefully on his bed, claiming her place in his life. If he'd had any breath to steal, it would have been hers forever. And in that instant, he had known.

If anything ever happened to her, it would destroy him. Not send him running to a monastery for a few months. Not make him sit listlessly and refuse to move or bathe or feed. Destroy him, more assuredly than any stake or beheading or sunlight. Annihilate him, right on the spot.

And something would inevitably happen to her. She was the Slayer after all, and that came packaged with the job. She'd already died, twice, and he had been powerless to stop it. But he could ensure that no harm would come to her because of him. That no force on this plane or any other could ever use her to bargain, or avenge, or bring him to his knees.

So he watched her sleep, drinking her in as a thirsting man consumes his last drops of water. He tried to convince himself that, like sending Connor away, this was the right thing to do. Braved himself for a reaction that would likely culminate with a stake in some part of his body. Wished that he had never tasted her in ways that would haunt him for centuries, knowing all the while that he wouldn't change it even if he could.

And now here he was, essentially breaking up with her. Again. After she'd presented him with a very expensive and thoughtful gift, no less.

Cordy would have called him a mentally deficient jackass, and she would have been right.

"At least we're not in a sewer this time."

She always did go straight for the jugular. Little else could have hurt worse than that.

His voice was low, tinged with resolve and heartbreak.

"I can't watch you die because of me, Buffy. It nearly destroyed me the last time, and I hadn't even seen you in months."

A little of the anger seeped out of her with his words.

"Angel… I'm human. No matter what, I'm going to die someday. For good, die." She looked at him, the intensity of that green glare burning into him like fire. "And what about you? Do you know how I felt, with no idea what had happened to you? Thinking you'd just gone all kamikaze and left me behind? It was… terrifying. And there's not much that scares me these days. I could lose you. No shelter one sunrise, a stray stake. But you don't see me running."

"No one would ever try to use me to get to you, Buffy."

She looked at him like he was a few brain cells shy of demented.

"You're kidding, right? Just because Wolfram and Hart don't have a big ol' yen for me doesn't mean I don't have enemies. And just because there's hundreds of slayers now doesn't mean that some Big Bad can't swoop in and decide to take the most powerful one out. Or use you to do it."

"And you're willing to risk that? To risk yourself, knowing you would do anything to save me?"

She looked at him sadly, as if realizing something for the first time.

"I've been without you for so long, Angel. I hadn't realized…that I wasn't really living. That I was some other girl, like the real me wasn't really there at all. I would rather be with you, really with you, baggage and all. Dying by your side is better than pretending to be alive without you."

He wanted to argue, to convince her that she was wrong. But the sincerity of the words touched something deep inside him. He knew that if she refused to budge for much longer, he would never be able to let go.

He tried again, a different tact this time. One that had worked before.

There was nothing he could give her. In light of his recent failures, everything he had to offer was probably even less than he could back then. How could he have ever deluded himself into believing otherwise?

"I'll never change Buffy. Never age. Never… be human."

He nearly choked on the word, and waited to see if she would have the good sense to loosen the shackles she'd fastened around his heart.

***

This time, she resolved, there was no way he'd walk away from this without a fight. Buffy could see his stance weakening. It was a last-ditch attempt, these words from years gone by. The sentiment may have been true, then. But not any longer.

"I'll never change Buffy. Never age. Never… be human."

She stopped short of asking him about a certain prophecy. For whatever reason, it was a secret he felt he still needed to keep. Or maybe he'd been so long without hope, he couldn't dare believe in its promise.

But perhaps there was a way to make him understand. There were things he needed to hear anyway, things he needed to know about the life he thought he had given her.

"Angel, when you left me… you were right. As much as it felt like I was dying inside, a part of me knew it even then. So I did what you told me to. Did the whole picnicy, daytime beach outings thing. Had dates that didn't involve demon hunting. Found better places to neck than against every tombstone in SunnyRest… mostly. And it was nice. I could pretend that I was a normal girl with a normal life and a normal boyfriend. That made it almost okay that you weren't there. But you know what? It didn't last. It didn't matter that it was nice and safe and normal. All that mattered was that he didn't consume me. In the end, all that mattered with any of them was that they weren't you."

"You thought… I was right for leaving?" It was an insecurity that shocked her, coming from him. He had always seemed so… certain. So intent on walking away.

"Yeah, although the way you did it was pretty crappy. But I had to grow up. To have all those things you couldn't give me. I thought that was what I wanted—a life like any other girl. And now I've had it, and I know, without question what I need. Where I belong. Human or not, it doesn't matter. All I want is for my life to be with you. It's all I've ever wanted."

She let that hang between them for a moment, daring him to argue.

"Buffy, I—"

"No, Angel, no! You can't tell me what's best for me anymore. You can't tell me that I don't know what I want or what I'm getting myself into. It's been a long road and a lotta years since Sunnydale. If you don't want this anymore, I can accept that. But don't you dare act like I'm not old enough to know my own heart!"

She watched as the walls of his resolve crumbled, each word escaping her lips having chipped a piece of them away. But she needed more. She needed him to let her in. All the way into that darkness he kept from her, down into the deepest recesses of his soul.

She needed to know he was finally stripping himself bare, that they were finally on equal footing.

"No more hiding, Angel. This is all of me. I need all of you."

He struggled with it for another moment. It was long enough that she began to wonder if he was telling her the real reasons for fighting this so hard. But then he reached out and clutched at her, frantically seeking something tangible to hold on to.

"You have all of me, Buffy. You always have," he whispered, voice a low rumble against her ear.

She lifted her head to make him give her more, but his lips were already crushing hers, desperate and frenzied in a quest beyond words. Buffy answered in kind, pressing herself against him, finding all the answers she needed in the hard planes of his body and the reactions her touch elicited. She pulled him towards the bed by his shirt, then tore it straight down the middle, ripping the offending garment from him.

"Hey! What did that shirt ever do to you?" he protested half-heartedly.

"It got in my way," she growled. "You should take heed."

The sound went straight to his heart and his groin simultaneously, and he practically launched himself on top of her on the bed. Hands and mouth everywhere, touching and tasting, and then, suddenly, slowing almost painfully. Movements languorous and painstakingly tender.

She grappled with him wildly, trying to get the upper hand. Ignoring the impatient thrusting of her hips, he maintained his slow, gentle rhythm. She bucked under him and let out a small whine. He shook his head slightly, serious and focused. Intent. Not vampire and slayer, his eyes said. Man and woman.

Even if she didn't know it now, it was what she would want, someday.

And, despite everything, he still needed to believe.