It had happened a week ago.

Nobody had called to tell him. They didn’t have to.

From the scattered details he’d been able to glean from a grieving Willow, he knew her last hours hadn’t been easy. There had been yet another prophecy declaring that the slayer’s end was near. But how many of those had she thwarted before? Angel swallowed bitterly as he only now accepted the brutal truth. The slayer’s luck had finally run out.

She would most likely be the longest living slayer ever to be recorded in the watcher’s diaries, but what did that really matter? What difference would that make in the years to come? Once her friends passed on to their own eternal rewards, who would she be except perhaps a tiny footnote written into the histories of the never ending battle against the dark? Any tangible proof that Buffy Summers had even been born would be swept away. Life would go on, due mostly to her unrecognized efforts. But all the pain and all the passion that had been Buffy, the girl behind the slayer, would be forgotten.

But not by him. Never by him.

He’d kept tabs on her, despite their distance and time apart. So he’d known about Riley. A part of him had even hated the man, though he hadn’t ever laid eyes on him. Irrational, he knew. Wasn’t he the one that had told her she deserved someone who could bring her into the light? Someone who could give her the family that she deserved? It had taken some time, but she’d eventually found that person. And had even loved him. Just as he had loved Kate.

But it hadn’t been the same, couldn’t have been. Angel repeated this over and over in his mind. As if he could make it true just by saying it. How could he say for certain that she hadn’t loved Riley just as deeply, if not more, than she had loved him? He hadn’t even laid eyes on her since her graduation day two years ago. His last glimpse of her had been through a smoky haze. But he’d never forgotten the way she had looked at him. The way her eyes had first lit up with hope. And the way that hope had dimmed as she realized that he wasn’t going to stay after all. To this day he didn’t know where the will power had come from to just turn and walk away from her. Now, staring down at the unforgiving tombstone, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made the right choice. It might not have changed anything. Perhaps she would still be here. But at least he would have had two more years of happiness with her. Two more years of memories to sustain him as time went on.

He gently placed her ring on the top of her grave. The ring he knew she had placed on the floor of the mansion in a similar fashion just two years before. Though he waited for the tears there were none, the pain was too intense. If anything she had ever felt because of him was even half as painful as this, it only gave him more reason to hate himself. To hate who he had allowed himself to become in that alleyway so many years ago. Perhaps if he hadn’t left the tavern so soon that night…..

He rose to his feet, looking one last time at the inscription on the stone:

So where was he supposed to go now? All this time he’d been fighting in L.A. it had been for her, because of her. And even though he wanted to deny this, he knew in some ways it had been a selfish attempt to earn whatever redemption he was allowed. To earn the right to be with her again. To love her the way he had never stopped wanting to.

His eyes drifted skyward as he sensed a sudden shifting in the air. Dawn was approaching. Sighing deeply, he turned to leave. Stopping short at the sight of an obviously grieving man staring intently at him. "So, you’re Angel." It was said with a great deal of bitterness, though he didn’t understand why that should be. At his nod, the man took a step closer, his hostile look increasing. "I held her as she died. Did you know that? I was the one that was there for her when the pain of her injuries became too much for her. I was the one that tried to stop the bleeding."

Angel’s heart clenched at hearing the full extent of what her death must have been like, and he suddenly realized that this was the object of his hatred. Hatred that was immediately replaced with respect and compassion. For Riley had truly loved her, had taken care of her to the last. Something he hadn’t been able to do.

"I’m sorry." The words sounded weak even to his own ears.

Riley’s face suddenly broke into an irrational smile, bitter laughter flying

from between his lips. "You’re sorry. You’re sorry? Do you have any idea just how much you put her through? All that you’ve done, and that’s all you have to say to me. You’re sorry." The laughter turned into a harsh sobbing as he collapsed onto the ground. "But she loved you anyway. She never stopped."

Angel couldn’t help that quick flash of joy that ran through his soul at those words. Joy that was quickly followed by shame for the pain the man was going through. Riley finally looked back up at him, eyes suddenly filled with compassion. "But I can’t blame her for it. I never could. I know she loved me, as much as her heart would allow. Hell, maybe we would’ve married someday. But I guess now I’ll never know." Riley stood up and walked toward him, slowly extending a hand. Baffled, Angel reached out with one of his own, and their hands met in a weak handshake. A flash of envy crossed the other man’s face. "You’re a lucky man, to have her love you like that. From what I’ve heard about you, I don’t know what you did to deserve it." Bitterness had crept back into his voice, and the handshake ended abruptly as Riley swiftly strode away.

Angel could only watch, too choked up to speak. He moved to walk away himself when he heard his name called out. Riley was again looking at him, sadness stamped on his face. "It wasn’t me she wanted. When she was dying. I was holding her, but she called out for you." Angel opened his mouth to respond, but Riley just put a hand, stopping him from speaking. "She called out for you. " He saw Riley’s gaze drift toward the sky. "Remember that, when you make your decision." Angel’s gaze didn’t waver as he watched Buffy’s lover walk away. He didn’t have to wonder what decision he meant. It had been on his mind ever since that moment a week ago when he’d felt her death. She had been the one to stop him from making that choice on a snowy day so long ago, and he half expected her to show up again this time.

Angel felt a sort of peace fill him. Though he didn’t understand what he’d done to deserve this, he knew he had nothing to fear anymore. His curse was over. After almost 300 years of living, he knew he was ready to let go. She’d waited long enough for him.

Two years ago he’d told Buffy he was thinking with his head. This time, he let his heart decide.