The Only Key
By Passion Angel

Summary: Set after the last scene of "Revelations": Buffy visits Angel in the mansion and assesses her feelings for him.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or anything else BtVS related. They belong to Joss and his Hollywood pals. I'm just a humble and penniless fan of B/A angst, so please don't sue!

Buffy wove noiselessly about the gloomy hall, surveying the emptiness of the scene that lay before her. The decrepit mansion was already on the way to being restored to its customary abandoned state; a few scorched plants and broken walls were the only physical remnants of the struggles which had flared the night before. He must have been hard at it cleaning up, ever since the evening's violent encounter. She could just imagine him stacking and scrubbing away, determinedly trying to repair the damage as though it would count in some small way towards a redemption that was destined to plague him for the rest of his existence.

She crept up the stairs to his bedroom and cautiously turned the knob. Under the cloak of darkness that he had always sought for protection, she could see him there sprawled across his bed. The white sheets were tossed wildly around his body; the body which writhed every turbulent sleep in the agony of remembrance. She paused there inside the doorway breathing in the image, embracing the opportunity to see unseen.

At that moment the nightmares must have ceased for a while, for his face was a rare vision of serenity. No pain branded it with the scars he bore when awake, no frown burdened it with the guilt under which he silently staggered. This was the face of an Angel who existed in a time of innocence long before her own. An Angel she would never know; who he would never know again.

And yet, that unknown Angel would always lie somewhere within. A fragment of innocence that would keep him whole. Yes, this man - for he truly was a man at heart - was her Angel, no matter what anyone else believed.

Giles and her friends were still suspicious of the bloodthirsty vampire that had so brutally scarred their lives forever. And no matter how many times Angel proved himself to them, they would always see a part of him as Angelus.

If she had thought that they would understand, she would have tried to explain to them how she could so sinfully trust such a murderer. She would have described that it was in the way he moved, as if he were trying to dissolve into a shroud of shame. It was the subtle tremor in his voice that echoed the endless sorrys he knew were meaningless to utter. But most importantly, it was the spark of light glowing within the depths of those eyes that were open only to her. She knew she could trust him, with a certainty that transcended mere logic.

Last night had revealed to her just how much she did trust him. When no one else had believed in him, she was seized by an overwhelming loyalty to defend his honour. She knew all too well the helplessness of fighting alone, and she knew that Angel had had enough loneliness to last many lifetimes. He had needed her, and she was proud that she had come through for him as he had for her on countless occasions. But it was more than a sense of obligation, and she knew it. Nothing had ever been an issue of duty when it came to Angel. It was not duty that bound her to take care of him, or to defend him, or to think about him every second of the day. It was love. A love that loomed unnoticed about her like a shadow, waiting to engulf her in its intensity.

But she had learnt how to defend herself against that love. When her lover had distorted into her enemy, she had raised a fortress for protection, and every blow he had driven into her had only strengthened its walls. But then, when Angel had emerged out of Angelus so unexpectedly, those walls melted at his touch and for one eternal instant, she had finally felt whole again, in the comfort of his caress. And then she had killed him. And she had had to build those walls all over again.

She had spent the summer in her own personal Hell, tortured by the guilt and grief of their cruel reunion. For despite all assurances, there was no denying that she had ultimately punished Angel for Angelus' wrongs, and she would live with that guilt for the rest of her life.

This pushing him away, she knew it was confusing him. The last time they had seen each other, she had whispered that she loved him. If those words of forgiveness had escaped her lips so readily back then when the wounds were still so fresh, why was she being so cold now? Oh Angel, if you only knew. She had never blamed him. To her, that demon was an entirely different being; as far removed from Angel as those who had perished because her love had weakened her sense of duty. Well, that was one thing she had in common with Angelus then; both had killed the Angel that completed them. And yet despite all that, here he was alive, breathing steadily in front of her. There must be a message from the Fates in thatÉ.

She had to distance herself from him. Because she was afraid, so desperately afraid. Because when he was hers, it was as though he sustained her; he was her air and her blood and her food and her spirit; he was her all. And that made her weak. It had taken her a long time and many sorrows to learn how to live without him, and even then life had felt hollow. Only recently had it come to have meaning again; when she had finally summoned the will to say goodbye. And then he had come back into her arms once again.

But oh, in that moment of reunion, when he had sobbed her name and needed her so utterly, she was overcome by that same sense of completion which had been lost to her since their last meeting.

But she had learnt since then. This time, she was holding those walls up high and steady with a determination that made her hands bleed. But better her hands than her heart.

Yet oh, during moments like these, she could stop holding up those walls and just stand and stare for a while. It was a dangerous, unpredictable love; not destroyed, but wilfully strengthened by the hate and hurt that was constantly thrashing it about. Hence the walls.

Her memory floated back to the hurried chain of events which occurred only hours ago. And like a throbbing pain after the numbness of shock, the image of Faith's stake poised just inches away from Angel's heart, sent a trembling through Buffy's body. So close, so close to losing him. Again.

Oh God, she could not take this any more. Her heart could only endure so much aching. No, no more pain, she wouldn't let it happen again. She had to let go, and she had to do it before it was too late. Again.

But - she couldn't abandon him when he needed her. She wouldn't sever the ties completelyÉ they could be - friends. Yes, that was safe enough, wasn't it? Friends.

Buffy sighed as she stepped forward and knelt beside his bed. Their love had always seemed like a never-ending battle against itself. It would ram into the barriers keeping them apart, only to rush back headfirst for more. Lowering her face towards his, she lightly kissed his soft lips, pressing her eyelids against the dew that had welled up within them. For she knew that as high as she built those walls to bar him from her heart, he could so easily just walk up and unlock the gate. With the key that only he would ever possess.