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AN: I told myself I wasn't going to do any more of these author's notes explaining this fic, but I think this needs to be said. I'm putting at the top because I really want people to read it before they make any more comments. Deal?

First off, I clearly stated at the beginning of this fic that the characterization of Angel was one that some people might not like. If you can't deal with how I have him, then, please, don't complain to me about it. I warned you. It's not my fault you didn't heed said warning. Also, most of the comments in the last chapter about Angel were from Buffy's perspective, after she'd been given a sort of off version of the events from Angel. Just because a character thinks something doesn't mean it's the gospel truth of the fic. I know that's not how things went exactly in "I Will Remember You," and I know the characterization there is a bit off. Buffy and Angel are both upset, and neither one of them are thinking clearly. Please, pay attention to the context in which things are said before you gripe at me about them. It's like the statements prior to a documentary: what's said here does not necessarily reflect my thoughts or feelings, etc.

Secondly, if one more person tells me to get on with the Spuffy, I'm going to have a nervous breakdown. There are a million fics where they jump into each other's arms five minutes after being reunited, and that's not what I'm doing here. Buffy and Spike have issues to work through if they want a lasting relationship, and that's what I'm dealing with. If you can't be patient and deal with things like oh, say a plot, I suggest you read something else. I really don't need people telling me how to write my story. Unless you're psychic and know exactly where I'm going with this, it's really not helpful. I had certain goals in mind when I started this fic, and one of them was to allow Spike and Buffy to build a real relationship. And I'm sorry, but when I post a chapter that's pretty much all about Buffy realizing how much Spike loves her and then I'm told "not Spuffy enough," it just annoys me. If all Spuffy means to you is sex, then you're reading the wrong story.

Okay, I'm really hoping I won't have to do this again. I know you're getting sick of reading these notes, and I'm getting tired of writing them. I have had a lot of wonderful reviewers, and I'm really grateful to everyone who reads this, but I do want to get the point across that this is my story, and I'm going to do things my way. Input on how I "should" be writing this story is not helpful. I know where I'm going with this, and it's really not any place as horrible as some people seemed to have assumed.

And now back to our regularly scheduled chapter…

*** *** ***

There was something off about sitting there with Buffy, on his couch, eating pizza while they watched television. Spike couldn't quite place what it was, only that it wasn't normal.

Then it hit him.

They were relaxed. Even with the events of the day, the atmosphere in his living room now was calm. There was no bickering and no great fog of angst clinging to them. They were sharing a quiet evening in.

It was like a dream come true. Aside from the fact that she wasn't actually his girlfriend, and he would lose this as soon as she decided to go back to Rome and that poncey git the Immortal, of course. He decided not to think about that. Now felt good. He wasn't going to ruin it by dwelling on tomorrow.

He glanced over at Buffy. Her hair was still slightly damp, her face was free of make-up, and she was wearing an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. But she was smiling—really smiling—and he decided she'd never looked more beautiful. He still loved her as much as ever—more so if that was even possible—but he fought back any urge to actually speak the words. Even if she had meant it in the Hellmouth, things had changed since then. She couldn't still feel that way. Why would she love him when she had the supposedly perfect lover waiting for her back home?

Still, a few times that day he'd sworn the look in her eyes had been love. But he couldn't let himself believe that, no matter how much he wanted to. He'd waited desperately for Buffy's love in the past, and it had left him with nothing but heartache. He couldn't put himself through that again, especially now when he knew that it would be hopeless. Instead, he'd enjoy this little time he had left with her. It was more than he'd ever expected to get, after all.

They finished eating, and Buffy slid over on the couch, resting her head on his shoulder. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and nervous. "Is this okay?"

Spike put his arm around her. "Yeah, it's fine."

She smiled at him before getting comfortable and turning her attention back to the show. Spike didn't know what made her want to be close to him like this, but he didn't care. It was what he wanted, too, and even the little bit of contact was nice.

Neither one said a word as they simply enjoyed the closeness they knew would be all too fleeting.

*** *** ***

It had taken some sedatives he'd gotten from the Slayer General Hospital set up in his hotel, but Angel had finally gotten Connor to calm down. He was sleeping now, and Angel decided to leave him alone for a while, possibly get some rest himself.

Angel found an empty room and decided to stay there for the night. He was beginning to think that tearing his room to shreds had probably not been the most productive way to deal with his anger. It hadn't left him with much. The room he was in now was similar to his own, but different enough to set things off a bit. He lay on the bed, staring into nothing as his thoughts swarmed through his head.

He couldn't even bring himself to think really about Connor. He had messed that up more than he'd even dreamed possible, and all he could do was hate himself for not reading the fine print, for trusting Wolfram and Hart. He should've known that they'd do something to trick him.

But the thought that really made him sick now was the knowledge that, at the time, he hadn't really cared. He'd seen an opportunity, and he'd taken it. He'd believed himself to be helping his son along with the bargain, but that hadn't been all for him. He'd wanted to bring down Wolfram and Hart, and they'd offered him his in. He'd taken it without any real thought to the consequences.

Not so bright in retrospect.

He couldn't deal with it. Nothing had gone right, and he couldn't even wrap his head around how much worse he'd made things. Sure, he'd brought down the building, but, well, they'd certainly recovered nicely from that zombie incident… And this was only the Los Angeles branch. Wolfram and Hart was everywhere, in this dimension and in others. He'd done nothing but hurt those closest to him.

And Buffy… How much had he messed that up? He winced as he replayed their conversation in his mind. God, what could she be thinking right now? He hadn't said anything the way he'd meant to, and he'd just made it all sound worse than it really was. Or had he? A nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that Buffy wouldn't exactly have appreciated his "I have to not be human so you won't die protecting me" excuse either. And now, looking back on it, it seemed weak even to him. He was the one who'd gotten hurt that day by trying to protect Buffy. And when he really thought about it, he knew she'd put him behind her duty if need be. She had sent him to Hell…

He wasn't sure he could handle thinking about her either. He was second guessing himself more than he ever had in the past, and he knew it came from a feeling of being lost. When he'd seen Connor today, sobbing for the loss of what he'd been given and then had so cruelly ripped away, Angel had felt everything crumble. His son was broken and it was his fault.

He'd destroyed everything around him, hurt everyone.

He squeezed his eyes tight, wanting the thoughts, the memories, the fears to go away. But they were screaming inside his head, forcing him to take a long hard look at parts of himself he'd wanted to keep forever buried.

He opened his eyes again when he felt a hand run across his cheek. When he saw who was looking down at him, he smiled.

Cordelia… She was here again. He'd come to the conclusion after the last time that he'd finally lost his sanity and was hallucinating, but he didn't care. When he saw her, she felt so real, and it was good enough for him. Even if it was only an illusion, he had her back for a little while at least.

"Rough day, champ?"

"Cordy…" Angel said softly, reaching his hand out to her.

Cordelia lay down on the bed beside him, resting against his chest. "I'm here with you for now, Angel. We don't have to talk about it, and you don't have to worry. I know things seem impossible right now, but it's going to be okay."

"Do you promise?" Angel asked, his voice small and belying his fear. He'd never felt quite this broken before, even when he'd lived in alleys feeding off of rats. He'd lost it all…

"Yes. I won't lie to you, Angel. You have a lot of hard things you're going to have to face, a lot of mistakes you're going to have to own up to. But they don't matter right now. You need to rest, and I'm here to make sure you can."

"Will you still be here when I wake up?"

"I don't know. I want to be, but I'm not sure I can."

Angel didn't ask why. "Can you try to be?"

"Yeah, I will. But sleep now. Things will be clearer if you rest."

Angel nodded, his eyes sliding shut. He did feel better, just having her here. Her presence this time was soothing. He wrapped his arms around her, drifting off to sleep with Cordelia there to hold.

*** *** ***

Buffy was tired. She'd seen Spike try to stifle a couple of yawns, and she knew he was, too, but going to sleep meant, well, sleeping arrangements. She was sure he didn't have a guest room tucked away somewhere, which meant the only bed was the tiny one in the bedroom. Logically, one of them would take the bed and the other would take the couch.

She felt a little guilty for thinking it, but she didn't want logic. She knew nothing could really happen here. She'd already made up her mind that despite the fact part of her still wanted Spike, she couldn't have him. Sex would only complicate things between them further, and neither one of them needed that.

That didn't mean she couldn't sleep next to him, or so Buffy decided. Those nights in Sunnydale when he'd held her had been some of the best of her life, and she wanted that again, even if it was for only one last time. "I'm tired," she told him.

Spike looked over at her, regarding her for a moment before he said, "Yeah, me, too." He pulled away from her, trying to mask it with a stretch, but she knew what he was doing. He was trying to distance himself from her. "Bed's not great, but it's better than the couch, so you can have it. I'll sleep out here."

Buffy shook her head. "No."

"No? Well, if you really want the couch, then I guess…"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you…" Spike trailed off as realization hit him. "Buffy, no. Just…not that, okay?"

Buffy reached out, resting her hand on his leg. "I'm not asking you for anything big, Spike. I just…I'd sleep better tonight if I wasn't alone. I think you would, too."

Spike let out a heavy sigh. He would sleep better. But it also wouldn't be enough for him, he knew. He wanted her so badly it made every bit of him ache. To hold her and not be allowed to love her… Still, he realized it was all he was being offered, all he'd ever be offered again. He could sleep with her in his arms, could sleep with her scent surrounding him. He'd want more, but he knew this would have to be enough. It was all he was getting. "Right, well, bed's sorta small…"

"So was that cot in my basement."

Spike nodded, nothing else for him to say.

Buffy pointed towards the bathroom. "I'm just going to get ready for bed, and I'll be right in."

Another nod, and Spike went into the bedroom. When Buffy came to join him, he was lying on top of the covers, wearing a pair of sweatpants similar to the ones he'd given her. She wondered if he still slept nude when he was alone, and felt herself blush slightly. Even with the sweatpants, though, she was able to see his chest, and it made her mouth water. Why did he still have to be so gorgeous? It only made this harder.

Spike pushed himself off the bed. "I'll be right back," he told her before going into the bathroom himself.

Buffy walked to the foot of the bed and stopped. It seemed even smaller now as the realization of what she'd asked Spike for hit her. She was going to be sleeping next to him tonight. There would be no way they wouldn't be touching each other. It seemed more real now, as the image of her in bed with a half-dressed Spike came into her mind, and she had a moment of panic.

She took a deep breath. She wasn't going to do this. She could be mature. She wanted Spike here with her, and she'd meant it when she'd told him she'd sleep better if she wasn't alone. She started to lie down on top of the blankets, but then she decided she wasn't going to do this half way. She slipped under the covers, waiting for Spike.

She could hear the sink running in the bathroom, and it struck her at how domestic this was. This is what it would be like if they were a couple, and she wasn't sure what to call the feelings that thought made rise in her. She pushed them away, deciding that she might analyze them later. The bathroom door creaked open, and Buffy's heart thumped in her chest. This was it. Any moment now, Spike would be in this bed with her. She almost panicked, considered running.

"I can still sleep on the couch."

His words made up her mind. She didn't want him that far away, simple as that. "No, don't."

Spike didn't say anything else as he got into the bed beside her. He turned his back towards her, and Buffy bit her lip. This wasn't right. She tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to look at her. She could see the conflict in his eyes as he finally decided to face her. Buffy moved up against him, and he stiffened for a moment before wrapping his arms around her.

It was then that Buffy realized there was a factor here she hadn't counted on. Spike was alive. She'd known it, sure, but she hadn't counted on what it would mean. He was holding her, and he was so warm. He was breathing, and it wasn't his usually artificial breathing he'd always done before. She could feel his warm breath as it brushed over her, could hear his heart pounding in his chest. She realized from its quick beat that he was just as nervous as she was, and that soothed her somehow.

Buffy decided she could think in the morning, if she wanted to. Right now, she was going to sleep in the arms of a human Spike. It was warm and comforting, and it was where she wanted to be. Neither one of them said anything, the only sound in the room their synched breathing. Spike's hand was lightly stroking her back, and Buffy smiled.

She let the rhythm of Spike's heartbeat lull her to sleep.

*** *** ***

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