Title – Destiny

Disclaimer - not mine.

Rating - PG

Spoilers - everything ever.

Pairing - Buffy/Angel.

Synopsis – the long awaited reunion... kinda;).

Feedback - always.

AN – Buffy's pov.

I quietly shut the bathroom door behind me and inhale a deep breath as I run my hand through my wet hair. I don’t think I’ve ever showered so fast in my life, I actually think I broke a personal record. I sigh and look down at myself, I’m wearing a white top I’ve had since I was nineteen and a pair of gray sweatpants I don’t even remember where I found and that look older than me. Even after a shower, I look a mess. I don’t even know what my face looks like because I never bothered to check myself in the mirror, I still feel the slight sting underneath my eyes and down my cheeks, where my skin is still raw from the countless tears and it’s proof enough for me. And still, I can’t help but smile, because as I throw a glance at my bedroom’s door, I know for sure that the second I walk through it, I’ll be the most beautiful person in the world.

I finally gather the courage needed to push myself in the direction of my room. It’s actually funny how I can’t be apart from him and at the same time can’t bring myself to be *with* him. I only wish I knew, now that I finally have everything I ever wanted within the very palm of my hand, what it is that I’m so afraid of.

I stealthily stop as I reach the doorway, because suddenly I can't go on any further. I subconsciously bring my hand to my chest as if to check if my heart is still there, because it feels completely inert. Thousands of thoughts are racing through my head and still I can only bring myself to focus on one – a faint memory from nine years ago that's never been clearer.

He's standing by my open window, almost entirely concealed by the various shadows of the room, except for the single trail of the pale moonlight that's gracefully falling across his face. He's looking outside and he doesn't see me, and I know it's not because I'm too quiet because he'd notice me no matter how quiet I was. It's because his thoughts occupy his mind probably more than my take up mine, not leaving enough room for anything else. But I just keep staring at him, and I can't take my eyes off him, and at some point my gaze probably becomes so intense he senses it in spite of everything at turns to face me.

I feel a lump rising in my throat and I suddenly can't breathe. That moment, I don't think I've seen a more beautiful vision than what I'm looking at right now. I feel him piercing me with his dark eyes and the old feeling from years ago washes over me like for the first time and I'm trapped in his eyes all over again. I feel the urge to wrap him in my arms consuming me, but at the same time my body is frozen and I can't move. I remember him standing by that window all those years ago, and I remember standing right in front of him. And more than anything, I yearn to recreate that scene, the feeling of holding him in my arms and being held in his, the feeling of his lips on mine for the first time. I let myself drown in that memory for one single moment, and for that moment, there are no nine years of pain and heartache separating us, there is just me, and him, and the moonlight, and our first kiss.

A tear slips from the corner of my eye and I blink back more that I know will follow, but it's too late. He sees that, but he doesn't come, he only holds his hand out for me, wordlessly asking me to walk over to him instead. And I do, and I put my hand in his, and he draws me closer, until closer is no longer possible, and I lay my head on his chest and enfold my arms around him, clutching forcefully the fabric of his shirt. He hugs me, and I feel his hand gently stroking over my wet hair as he leans down to kiss my skull, and I swear to God I'll never need anything else if we're just allowed to stay like this, at least for a while. But again, I only wish it were that simple.

"Angel," I whisper throatily as I angle my face up to look at him. His name feels so strange on my lips and at the same time so natural it's throwing. I'm trying to sort through my so many thoughts and remember what I wanted to tell him just a moment ago, but the perplexity grows too strong and I can't.

"It's okay," he assures, as he draws back from me for a moment and sits down on the windowsill, pulls me to his lap and embraces me again. "I know… that you want answers, I would, too, if I were in your place."

I nod, and I already guess what's coming next.

"But I can't give you all of them. I don't even… have them myself." I gaze up at him after he doesn't say anything for a spell, but he's not looking at me. Instead, he's focused on something outside the window. I realize then that while I may be living a dream come true, he's struggling with things I can't even conceive. It makes me feel guilty for being happy and I can't stand it, not when I'm learning how to allover again, and my heart knows that I should say something comforting now, but my head just can't find the words. Instead I come up with the lowest thing possible, "Do you remember… Cordelia?" I feel his chest stiffen behind me and I want to smack myself, but I only make things worse. "Did you see her?"

"No," he replies, his voice lacking emotion so drastically like I've never heard before. No to what? As if reading my thoughts, he adds, "I didn't see her. I don't know where she is." His tone receives a slightly impatient note to it and I cringe at it. "Why are you asking me questions about her?"

"Because I can't risk losing you again," I say quietly, knowing it's my heart speaking and not my head. My head should have had more sense than bringing this subject up to begin with. He sighs, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his hands on my belly. "I can't have my dreams come true and then shatter because you choose to go back to her. Tell me… that you don't love her." I know I'm pushing my luck to an entirely different level, but I also know the rest of my life is at stake here and I can't risk it going up in flames again. If I'm going to break my heart, it's better do it now than later. We both know why I use exactly these words and I know he remembers the other time I did and I know he remembers what he answered me then, or didn't answer.

"I don't love her," he says, and there is no uncertainty in his voice, and I feel a mountain lifted off my chest though that moment I don't know how could I ever question that. "Deep inside, I don't think I ever truly did love her. But it isn't nearly the issue here because I *never* loved anyone the way I loved you. If that's what you were looking to hear, all you had to do was ask."

I allow a small smile to steal through my grave expression at another memory I know he implies at. I lay my hands atop his and weave our fingers together, snuggling more comfortably in his embrace.

He leans down and plants a kiss on the top of my head before continuing, "Remember I told you, about the day I first saw you, when Whistler showed you to me?"

"Hmm," I breathe, absentmindedly playing with his fingers.

"Before I had the pieces all put together, before I found out about you and... Cole," his voice changes slightly as he mentions his former best friend and I can feel the vibes of tension radiating from him. This entire situation is going to take a lot of getting used to from both of us, the way I see it.

He must be sensing my apprehension as response to his own, because he tightens his hold around me and possessively draws me closer. "I went back there many times, to your old high school, I just stood there for hours, gazing at the steps, and it always felt like I was searching for something that wasn't there, but I could never put my finger on it. Even though I was partly sure I was insane about the whole thing, I just... had the feeling that was the place where my life changed forever. And it did," he looks down at me and props my chin up with his index finger so I would meet his eyes. "This was where I found you," he whispers, and brings his lips to mine in a soft lingering kiss. I close my eyes and I think I'm feeling this kiss long after our lips separated, I'm savoring his taste, his touch, and I must be so scared it'll all be gone again, I remain stuck in the moment.

He brushes his fingertips over the curves of my lips and gently kisses each one of my eyelids when he sees I still don't open them after a while. I have to smile at that and when I finally look at him, I see him beaming, too. He leans closer and brushes his lips against mine before whispering, "I'm not going anywhere." And I think he's gonna have to say that more than once for me to really believe it's up to him. A little voice inside my head tells me it's time I started trusting fate again, but I dismiss it. It's just... too hard sometimes.

"I know it's hard," he observes solemnly, as I return my head back on his chest. Will I ever stop wondering how come he can always answer my thoughts? Do I even want to? "It is, on both of us."

"I know," I respond, not having anything better to say. "I'm just... afraid you..." I don't want to finish that sentence and he doesn't let me, knowing where I'm heading with that.

"I already told you tonight," he gently veers my thoughts back to when he first reappeared in my life and I instinctively hold on to him tighter, not even realizing why at first. "Someone went through a lot of trouble to get me here, like this. If you ask me, that's a little too *much* trouble for it not to be permanent."

I know he's trying to treat it lightly, for me, if not anything else, but for some reason I just can't bring myself to play along. It's too hard, and it's too scary, and it's too painful, and it's only going to get worse if what I'm dreading the most happens again. I don't trust fate because it let me down repeatedly, I don't trust destiny because it's never given me a reason to, and I don't trust promises because from my own bitter experience, I've learnt they aren't up to only the person who makes them. Then I raise my head and look my Angel in the eyes and bring my hand up to mildly stroke his face. Can I honestly say I don't trust him either? If I don't, what is there left for me?

"It's the prophecy, isn't it?" I make the hesitant suggestion. "It was your ultimate sacrifice?"

He looks down at me with slight confusion in his eyes, like he doesn't know what I'm talking about. "What?"

How exactly can he expect me to explain a theory I just came up with a moment ago? "I know about the prophecy… Shanshu," I can only hope I got the name right, I was never good with these things. "Wes told me after you… you know. He said your destiny was to become human, when you finally earned it. So maybe that's what you did, earned it, when you faced the Beast."

To my surprise, he merely shrugs, the so familiar half-smile playing in the corners of his mouth and I can't help but smile, too. "Maybe," he observes indifferently, and it's obvious the thought has crossed his mind once before, but he never gave it too much attention. "Maybe not, I don't know what I earned, and I don't know who rewarded me. And as for my destiny," he pauses for a moment and locks eyes with me, brushing his knuckles against my cheek. "I'm holding it in my arms right now." And then he bends down and gently captures my lips with his.

THE END