By: Ally-Kamiya

Author's Notes: It's been an idea…for awhile. And now it's here. Aren't you all just fleeing in terror, now? It's much longer than the first, which is good. Lots of brooding Angel fun.

Disclaimer: If I owned it, would I merely be writing this as a fanfiction?

Dedication: This one goes out to Becca, my partner in crime. I'm going to blame you for my full out obsession with these shows. Among other things…Though I think my whacky mind had something to do with the leather and toga obsessions…*wink*

Timeline: After IWRY. I hope you all read 'Melted Dreams' before this, or after, it is the beginning of this and the counterpart, Buffy's POV.

Reviews: I'd love them.

Rating: I haven't typed it up yet, but I have a feeling Mr. Broody's testosterone thoughts might lead to a PG-13. So watch out, kiddies.


Angel lay on his bed as his dark eyes stared up at the ceiling in his apartment. It was hard for him, to lay here…Not when so many memories had been formed. And broken. His eyes moved from the ceiling, beyond the bed, staring at the clock on his wall. That damned clock. It had been his choice, he knew. But that did not stop the feeling of need for him to rip that cursed object from the wall and fling it across the room, shattering it to pieces.


So much like his heart.

His heart had been shattered so many times before. The blond goddess who he had grasped onto for so long, his constant, his reason to be. His soulmate.

Ironic, how she was his soulmate. His mate, yes. The mark she wore upon her neck was proof of that indeed. Humans shied away from it. Demons, vampire or not, cowered from it. You could only obtain that mark from your mate. It was a brand, a sign that she was taken. But the fact that she was his soulmate…Their souls, his soul, was what had driven them from eachother in the first place. What still drove them away from one another.

Angel could still smell the traces of her here. The vanilla of her shampoo was imbedded into his pillows, the scent of her body, of their love making, was in his sheets.

It would slowly drive him mad. He would never change the sheets, but the scent of her, the need for her, would drive him insane with lust. With love. For every time he closed his eyes, while the scent of her was so near, he saw her blond curls. He felt her moving against him, begging for him, her lover, to continue. He felt her warm lips against his own, the feeling of her nipping gently at his tongue…He heard her gasps, her moans. Heard her pleas for him to stay with her forever, to love her until the end of time, like she would always love him.

With a growl that was a mixture of frustration, of agony, he sat up in his bed. He needed to hear her voice. He needed a glimpse of sanity before his mind cracked, shattered, joining his heart in the scrap pile.

The phone number was dialed without a second thought, without the comprehension that he was even dialing it.

It ringed.

A second ring…

A third…

God damnit, there was another ring…

And another.

The cursed vampire was ready to give up, to slam the phone back down onto the desk, to curse the Powers and himself for this slow torture. His hand moved to do just that, before his trained ears caught the sound of his goddess's voice. Only his enhanced abilities allowed him to do so, and he swiftly brought the phone to his ears.

She did not say a word more. He didn't speak either. He never did when he called her.

Something in him, however, told him that she knew. She knew it was him on the other line. Whether it was their boundless love or the Slayer in her, he did not know. The fact that he knew she knew made him believe it was the former.

The silence was almost peaceful, it lasted for quite some time. At last, she spoke again. Not the sarcastic comments about her phone stalker who should bug off before she tracked them down and made sure they could never use a phone again.

"I'll never forget."

The silence continued to reign, and he knew she had heard his soft catch of un-needed breath, of shock. This shocked silence was all they had before he heard the soft click. The disconnection.

The phone in his hands fell, almost as if in slow motion, crashing to the ground.


Thousands of pieces flying up and around, all over.

Just like his heart always was, always would be.

After all he had done, all he had given, his heart remained in this state.