Title - Hard to Tell

By - Mariah (symonk@bezeqint.net)

Disclaimer - not mine.

Distribution - my B/A fanfic site (http://www.withtheprettiness.com/evennow) and everyone with permission. Ask me first.

Rating - PG.

Spoilers - everything ever.

Pairing - Buffy/Angel, Buffy/Cole.

Synopsis - follow up to "Ways to Say Goodbye".

Feedback - always.

AN - As you can see, this is going to be a pov-kinda series. I don't normally write pov, I even used to literally hate *reading* it. But I don't see how I can *not* write this one in pov fashion, so... I hope I'll do okay, kinda. You letting me know is more than appreciated, of course:).

I wake up the next day and all I feel is pain. A sharp, piercing pain in my chest the origin of which I can’t understand. I cover my face with my palms and with a sigh smooth back my hair. It’s darker now than it used to be, I’ve been dying it. Cole once said this color looked better on me, so I thought… why not.

I finally force myself to open my eyes and angle my head a bit to the right to look out the window. The rain has stopped. On second thought, I already knew that. Didn’t I stay up last night waiting for it to cease so that I could do what I had to?

Here it is again, that pain. And again, I don’t know where it comes from, what causes it. The naive part of me for some reason grasps at that doing what I did was supposed to make me feel better, to make it hurt less, to release me from a burden I’ve been carrying for far too long. Is there something wrong with me? Is there, if I don’t see it as a burden? Can it ever truly hurt less, is it even possible?

And there is the other part of me, the one that is broken to pieces time cannot mend, and no letter in the world can be written to release me from that pain.

I pull myself up with trouble, as though my body is reluctant to leave the bed this morning, part of me knows why. I haven’t done *everything* yet. I rub the remnants of tears away from my eyes and look at the window again. Like before, no memory of the rain that’s been pouring almost the entire night, none except for the several drops suspending from the bare branches, holding up with all their might and refusing to let go.

Am I, too?

My eyes heavily drop down to the windowsill and I have to stifle the gasp rising in my throat. It’s not there.

I wish I could say it’s because I’ve never gone through with it, because I never left it outside like I promised myself I would.

But I can’t. And I did.

Maybe it’s gone up to Heaven… Maybe they do have postal services after all… I have to chuckle at the childish thought that somehow managed to materialize within the turmoil and confusion that is my brain.

I get up and make a few hesitant steps in the direction of the window. As I lean over the sill, the lump forming in my throat forestalling the air from my lungs and I suddenly feel as though I’m on fire. It’s not there. There is nothing there. Not only is it not there, but nor is it anywhere in sight.

I swallow hard as the full magnitude of what I’ve done drowning on me and I can’t help but shudder at the realization.

What are the odds the wind really did pick it up and carried it some place where no one knows me? It must have floated down to the ground, maybe a few feet away, in the worst case, somewhere on the sidewalk. Wherever it fell, it all comes down to one thing – someone picked it up, it couldn’t just disappear into thin air. And if someone did -

My trace of thought is interrupted by a soft knock on the door that bolts my heart right up to my throat. I catch my breath and whirl around to face the door. I already know who that is. Yes, he is the only one that usually knocks, but that aside… I just know. I always do when he’s around. Because he’s his son.

“I’m up, Connor,” I manage to let out, surprised by the clarity of my own voice.

A second later, he walks in and closes the door behind him.

I can’t direct my gaze at him at first, I already know he’ll be the hardest to tell when I do. Suddenly, a thought strikes me like a knife through the gut. What if he’s the one, what if *he* found it? What if that’s why he’s here?

“Are you okay?”

My head jumps up at the sound of his voice and I’m surprised to find him sitting stiffly on my bed as though he’s been in my room for hours. My palms begin to sweat and I tug subconsciously at the hem of my shirt, avoiding eye contact. Ultimately, I give up.

“Yeah,” I master a smile, knowing the fabrication wouldn’t get pass him. I guess that’s the sort of things that stay in the family.

But he nods to himself, understanding I wouldn’t want to talk about it anyway, whatever it is.

“You’re late for work. You’re never late unless the world’s in grave danger,” he observes, glancing at the clock by my bed. I follow his gaze only to find him right. I don’t mind though, I think I was planning on calling in sick even before I woke up that morning. I’m not in the right mood to consult strangers with their problems when I have all of mine crashing down on me at once.

“And you’re crying,” he continues with his sharp observation and I almost ask myself how on earth could he tell *that*, but one glance in the mirror instantly answers that question.

“I’m not…”

“So you were,” he obviously isn’t going to let this one drop so easily. “Is it because of him?”

Does the ability to read me ‘stay in the family’, too?

Him. There is only one person I can think of Connor would refer to as ‘him’. To put it subtly, there is no love lost between the two of them. “What makes you think Cole has anything to do with it?”

He shrugs. “I saw you two when he brought you back the other night. Ever since, something has been wrong with you. I *know* it’s because of him.”

“Trust me, Connor, you don’t,” I reply, too impatiently, and shake my head at the suggestion as I turn away and bury my face in my closet.

But it doesn’t seem to have affected him at all. His voice remains even as he simply states, “You’re lying.”

I would be lying if I said the sound of his voice as he pronounced these words didn’t make my blood run cold. I was prepared for almost anything but him shoving in my face that I’m lying.

“He hurts you, I’ll kill him,” he said, at the same chilling voice. "Just tell him that."

I cock a brow at that and even peek out of my hide to look at him. He doesn’t budge, just stiffly holds my gaze. Obviously some things stay the same even after three years. I look at him long and hard and in spite of the fact I could laugh at a statement like this, had it come from someone else, it being Connor makes it hard to determine just how much of it did he actually mean. Then again, bearing in mind the killer glares he shoots Cole's way, I think *anything* would supply him with a reason to get back at my fiancé-to-be for merely existing. Lightly put, he doesn’t exactly think highly of whom he refers to as ‘his father’s replacement’.

And still, all I can lamely come up with is, “I can take care of myself, Connor, I’m pretty sure you’ve noticed that by now. And Cole really doesn’t need killing, not anytime soon, anyway.” I flash him a small smile that isn’t sufficient to convince even myself and tactlessly get back to my business, which at the moment, is choosing my outfit for today. In other words – anything to keep my mind occupied. Apparently I’m doing better than I thought in the occupying department because, “There is nothing wrong between Cole and I, if anything, he -“ almost slips through my guard. Almost. I draw in a sharp breath as I catch myself in the last possible instant.

“He what?” he asks, as I knew he would. And suddenly, I’m at loss of words, my mouth is dry and I can’t speak. And what can I possibly say? Is he trying to lore me into breaking, into telling him what he already knows, or am I just getting paranoid? I guess everyone is when they have a secret like that…

I slightly shake my head and face back into the closet and away from my former lover's son. I lean my forehead on one of the flaps from the inside as though it weights a tone and exhale a sigh, inwardly hoping his superhearing or supersense or whatever wouldn't pick up certain vibes. And then it hits me - I realize, he doesn't know anything, he never did, he hadn't even been suspecting anything before he came into my room, and the only reason he did was because he was simply worried about me. He didn't know *anything*. He didn't know I was about to say yes to a man that wasn't his father, he didn't know he was only an hour or so away from me betraying everything I've ever promised him was true. And I *knew*, that moment, that I would never be able to tell *him*.

But I had no choice.

That realization was rapidly followed by another one; I was full. It filled me from the inside, suffocating me until I couldn't breathe and I felt that I would explode if I didn't let it all out. Up until a few seconds ago I was set on doing everything and anything in my power and beyond to stall the 'telling' part as much as it was only up to me because I couldn't deal. And now it flipped. Now this secret, the one that's supposed to be one of the most wonderful things in my life, is turning into a cancer and eating me up from the inside as if it possessed a life of its own, as if *it* wants to be freed and it won't rest until it gets its will.

I step back from the closet and look at my bed where Connor was sitting what only seemed minutes ago. There is no one there now. He slipped out of the room without me even noticing it. I smile to myself at a certain memory but the smile soon melts into a frown. I can't allow any memories anymore. That was the deal I made with myself that night, after all.

So this is it. This is the big moment, I know they're all here. I know Connor is because, well, he has just been here. Dawn is because she doesn't have classes until afternoon, and I can hear Will, Giles and Xander arguing about something in the kitchen from all the way downstairs. They're all here, everything is perfectly falling into place and setting itself up for the grand blow. Boy, it couldn't get better (or worse) than that, if I had to plan it myself.

"Buffy?"

My head shoots up in alarm as I realize I've been too deep in my thoughts. It's just my sister, standing expectantly in the doorway to my room. I study her with my gaze for a moment as I feel her doing the same to me. Her large blue eyes I always wish I had when I was younger seem to be peering right through me as if I were invisible. And in that moment, I probably am. I already know she's just seen Connor even before she says anything.

"Is something wrong?"

Why do people keep asking me that? Twice today already and the day hasn't even started yet...

"I've just seen Connor," she explains. "He says you've been acting weird. What's going on?" She makes a single step into the room and folds her arms on her chest in the Summers' typical fashion I know only too well from myself, the one that ensures me she's expecting to receive a straight answer to her question.

"Nothing," I lie, and my mouth curves up in the tiniest mischievous smile. "Is everyone home?" I hear myself as I continue to speak, as the words seem to flood out of me and I still can't believe it's suddenly so easy. She nods and I turn my back to her, grabbing a pair of jeans from one of the shelves. "I'll be down in a minute, okay?" I promise her as I throw her way another one of those half-not-so-smiles over my shoulder, "I have something to tell you guys that I think you're gonna like," I add mysteriously, knowing it'll be enough to satisfy her curiosity for the time being.

And I'm right. Her formerly concerned features brighten with a smile and the next thing I know, my sister is gone the same way she came, by now probably preparing everyone downstairs for the 'big news'.

I only wish I could share her excitement.

I walk into the living room and immediately five faces look up at me, causing me to stop at my track and almost be afraid to make the rest of the way in. For a moment, they resemble a bunch of kids waiting for a treat. I see Willow and Dawn but barely managing to conquer their supposedly knowing grins, I bet they have at least a dozen theories by now all of which make sense and at least some of which are true. Could it be they know me that well? I used to think so, now a part of me doubts that. If they did, they'd sometimes pay attention to things other than a pretty smiling face.

Giles and Xander are also there, but the expressions on their faces are different from my best friend's and my sister's. Xander looks mostly confused and somewhat out of place, much like he always does when there is something he isn't in the loop on. Giles... Giles is the only one among the four who is trying to see *me*. He's studying me intently from behind his glasses and I know he sees if not everything, at least some of the things I'm endeavoring to hide. And I know he doesn't mean to, but it makes me feel naked in some sense... vulnerable. While the others are so busy guessing the toy surprise, he's more interested in the wrapping, that's one of the things I love him for, one of the things I've been so enormously grateful for in the past three years when I needed someone to see beneath the mask I was wearing even if the reason I was wearing it in the first place was to deceive everyone around me. It's complicated. I'm complicated... I don't know exactly when that happened. No drop that, I do.

And then there is Connor, Angel's son. He is seated on a stool several feet from everyone else, and he's just watching me with his father's eyes, even though I know it's impossible because, for starters, they're blue. But he does. And it makes everything even harder when harder seems impossible. His face is impassive and even somewhat dark and I know why. Because while my friends and sister aren't even trying to and my watcher is almost there, Connor *sees* me. And he knows. I know he does.

I try to move my lips, to open my mouth, but none would comply. I'm supposed to be shining and happy, this is supposed to be a moment to remember, my heart is supposed to be bouncing in my chest and I'm supposed to feel more alive than ever.

But I'm not.

But I love him. I know I do, I love him as much as I can when half of me is ripped out, I love him enough to want him in my life, for the rest of my life. I love him enough to say yes.

So what's wrong with me?...

"Cole and I..." I begin, falteringly, trying to steady my voice as I go along. "We," I moisten my lips for a moment and open my mouth again to take a deep breath, and then... "He proposed to me."

Silence.

What is wrong with them?

"Buffy," Willow prods gently, and I realize what's wrong. I forgot the really important part.

"It's a yes," I say, probably smiling from ear to ear as I utter the words, but my heart is cracking inside. They only think the tears shimmering in my eyes are those of pure joy...

And that feeling returns again, a feeling of nausea I had before I mustered the necessary courage and pushed myself into the living room five minutes ago. I suddenly feel the room closing in on me and it's getting so hot it's becoming hard to breathe. And nevertheless, I'm happy. I'm released, and I'm... happy. And I'm also happy because I have someone like Cole and I'm not letting him slip through my fingers.

Suddenly, I feel my sister's arms close around my neck, followed by my two best friends. My Watcher, my father, he doesn't move from his seat. He only looks at me with concern and I know he's trying to smile but it's not working.

As I hug back the trio clinging to me, my eyes drift about the room in search for Connor, and my heart skips a beat when I acknowledge him absent, even though I'm not in the least surprised. In the first moment of clarity since this morning, I gently push Dawn, Xander and Willow off of me and make a hesitant step back. Not saying another word, I turn my back on them and head over to the door.

THE END