Angel rolled over and hung his head off the side of the bed. He could get up. It was the middle of the night; he usually slept during the day. But he didn't feel like it. He wanted to lie in the bed.

He covered his nose, but it didn't help. He'd changed the sheets, thrown the other ones out, tossed the comforter across the room and still he could smell her.

Well, not actually smell her. He knew she'd never really been here. The Oracles had turned back time as if it had never happened. She'd walked in, she'd said her piece, I'd killed the demon, and she'd walked out again. That was it.

So why could he smell her? She was in the sheets, in the blankets, in the pillows.

She was only in his head.

He should have asked the Oracles to make sure he forgot after the demon was dead. Buffy didn't know how lucky she was. She couldn't remember the way it had felt, kissing in the sunlight, the smell of saltwater and sand. She'd never know how it had been when he'd grabbed her in the kitchen, passion overriding reason. Tasting her with the traces of chocolate still on his tongue, tearing apart the kitchen table just to throw her on it.

When he'd first gotten his taste back, he'd thought nothing tasted better than chocolate. Then he'd tasted Buffy. She'd tasted a little like salt water at first, a left over from the beach. Salt water and chocolate and a thousand other things he couldn't name. She tasted like Buffy.

And he'd never forget it.

He would remember. And she'd go back to Sunnydale and take up with Captain Farmboy as if nothing had happened. Because to her, nothing had.

"I'll never forget. I'll never forget. I'll never forget." Her words echoed through his head. Part of him hoped she was right; that she'd be strong enough to remember, no matter what the Oracles had planned. If he'd learned anything in the 24 hours that never were, he'd learned that they didn't really have all the answers. At least not in advance. They hadn't seen his change coming.

But that was a small part of him. He mostly hoped she'd go on with her life, never having to know what they'd held in their hands until he'd thrown it away to ensure they both lived. No, to ensure she lived. He didn't care about himself, except in relation to her.

He'd had no other choice. He could live with the pain of knowing what they'd had and lost. He couldn't live with the pain of losing her. He feared it enough as it was. If anything ever happened to her....

But it wouldn't. He'd taken great pains to see that it didn't. Great pains that seemed to have settled in the small organ in his chest that for one day had beaten. Had sent love for her coursing through the veins he'd never thought to use again.

And now it lay silent, cold and dead inside a shell that housed his soul and the demon saved from death by love. He knew the demon would be laughing about that if it could. He wished he could cut himself open and tear it out, but losing it would kill him. And his death would kill her.

So she had to forget. And he had to remember, to make sure he lived, so she would stay alive.

The ringing of the phone startled him. He waited for the voice mail to pick up, but after a moment, it rang again. "Hello?"

"Angel?"

His heart may have been dead, but he remembered now what it felt like when it skipped a beat. "Buffy? What's wrong?"

"I just had a dream...at least I think it was a dream...but it was so real...."

"Was it a demon?"

She was silent so long he wondered if he was only imagining the sound of her breathing. "The demon...with the jewel. But you didn't kill it. We fought it together. And then...."

"It was just a dream, Buffy." *Please don't say it.* He wasn't sure he could keep quiet if she started talking about everything else that had happened, and everything depended on his silence.

"You're right. Probably just some kind of reaction to that thing in your office. I'm sorry to wake you up."

"No. It's okay. I know we're not...but...if you ever need help...."

Another long silence. "I know," she said finally. "Don't worry, I won't abuse the privilege." She sounded almost bitter. "Besides, I have friends at home to help me."

He wondered if she included Captain Farmboy in that group now. "Get some sleep, Buffy. You have classes in a few hours."

"How did you know--oh, never mind. Angel...if you ever come here again and stalk me, I'll...well, Willow's learning a lot of spells, I'm sure I'll think of something."

"Okay. I promise, no more unannounced visits to save you."

"Good."

"Goodnight. And be careful."

"You too. Oh, and Angel?"

He waited, but she didn't finish. "Yes?"

"It was one *hell* of a dream."

He heard the phone click, then slowly placed the receiver back on the base. She didn't completely buy the dream theory, but she wouldn't challenge it. Somewhere inside she knew. She knew what had happened, and she knew the cost if she fully remembered, and her self-preservation instincts would keep it suppressed.

He sniffed. Salt water again. That smell would torture him forever. After one more look at the clock, he got up. There were still a few hours before sunrise. Buffy would get a little sleep before class.

And he...he would go to the beach.

~*~*~

The End

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