Title: Reflections

Author: Hannah M

Feedback: Mmmm! Yeessss.

Season: Three

Pairing: Buffy/Angel (FOREVER!)

Summary: Angel reflects on his love for Buffy.

A/N: Woooyeah! I wrote this at 7:00 in the morning and had it wrapped up by 7:30. I've never written in Angel's POV before, so forgive me if it sucks. This takes place, one will see if they read, in third season, after Connor makes his appearance, as a baby. Angel simply reflects on his love for Buffy in that cute, sweet Angel way of his. Mm. Yes. Angel. Anyway.. Enjoy your read. R/R!

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"None of us can choose where we will love..." -Erik in Susan Kay's Phantom.

Loving Buffy was never a concious choice. It was a compulsion. I never thought about loving her, not at first.. And I was as shocked as I'd ever found myself upon realizing that I did, in fact, love her.. Without question, without boundaries, and certainly without any hope of ever being cured of it.

There was a time when I'd convinced myself that what I felt for her wasn't love.. Simply, a crush. Simply a refreshing bout of feeling again. I think, though, that somewhere, deep down.. There was never any question in my heart. From the moment I first saw her, bopping carelessly down the stairs of Hemery Highschool, chattering happily with her friends and enjoying a lolipop, there was no chance for me to ever rid myself of my love for her.

Not that I've ever wanted to.

Even now, many, many moons since I first saw her, and even after all that has happened, I've never once wished that the love I feel would fade. And it hasn't. Losing my soul, going to hell, leaving her for good.. they never could make what I feel for her even come close to disappearing. Nothing silly like living two hours away for three years and being in constant company of another woman (beautiful, though Cordelia may be,) could stop a love which, I'm still convinced, is eternal.

Three years. Three years isn't a long time, and yet, it seems like forever. I vividly remember the times when I could hold her in my arms everyday. It was torture, pure torture, to have her so close to me when we could never, really, *be* close. Three years isn't a long time for someone eternal. Three years, for a slayer, however.. That's a millenia.

Her life, I've always known, would end at some point. There's no greater reality check than something tragic. Buffy's death affected us all in terrible ways. Cordelia even seemed more down than any of us (or, rather, Wesley and I,) could have expected. Yet though Cordelia cried at the news of her death, and seemed sad whenever Buffy was mentioned, I was inconsolable.

I don't normally take a death as hardly as I did that summer. Death was simply too rampant everywhere I went for me to be too affected by it. But.. I'd never had to deal with the death of my soulmate before. Centuries of experience in fighting, corruption, lies, sex.. Yes, that's all I believe I was ever good for, don't prepare a person for having their heart, their soul, ripped cruelly away from them.

And that's what happened. My heart wasn't whole. I wasn't whole.

When Cordelia brightly announced that Buffy was alive, safe, and no longer, "pushing up dasies," there was no time to pack, barely enough time to call her. I had to see her.

We met somewhere in between Sunnydale and Los Angeles. I didn't want to be surrounded by memories that affected us more than we'd care to admit. I wanted time to simply cherish Buffy, in every way I was allowed. I held her, that day, silently.. And she cried. I didn't quite understand why, at first, but I heard her softly whispered words... And I suddenly felt an indescribable rage for Willow and Xander. She'd been in heaven.

You see, Willow had told Cordelia over the phone that, because Buffy was undoubtedly in a hell dimension, it wasn't wrong to pull her out of Hell, to get her back where she belonged. They compared it to my time in hell, how grateful I was to be away from there. But I'd never died. Or, rather, I hadn't died again, but had been *sent* there. They told us her eath was an unnatural one, that it wasn't by normal means. I believed them, until Buffy told me where she'd been.

They'd had no proof that Buffy was ever in a hell dimension. It was, simply, a guess. They'd been unbearably selfish in bringing her back. Yes, I'd missed her gravely.. But never would I consider robbing her of her final peace.

After I'd seen Buffy, I had to return home. She assued me that she'd be okay, that she wasn't missing heaven too badly, but I knew that she was only humoring me.

Things have changed radically since I last saw my heart's first love. I say first instead of only for a large reason that can't be ignored...

I have a son.

A beautiful, wonderful son who I love more than anything on Earth. The thought that this miraculous little boy was created by myself and Darla sometimes sickens me. Especially as I see tiny things in him that remind me of Buffy.. And more than anything, I wish he was our son.

Life has changed. I'm not the man I was when I first saw Buffy. But.. the love is still there. Holding her, touching her, has never become less intoxicating.. And thinking of her has always made my heart ache. And though I feel myself letting others in, becoming close with others, and not depending on her or her memory as I once did... She's still the center of it all, the reason why I started the fight.

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A/N: M'kay. So that was kind of nice. Wanna tell me what you thought? Flames are cool. Just as long as you.. R/R!