Well, on my list of things I didn't expect, this ranks somewhere around number one. I'm standing in the middle of a pagan tomb, Caleb is nicely dead, and I'm kissing Angel. Okay, so it would be a little weirder if Angel was dead and I was kissing Caleb, but still, pretty high on the didn't-see-this-one-coming-o-meter.
For the first time in so long that it was literally another lifetime ago, I'm not thinking. I'm just feeling. It's been so long since I just felt, just did the whole heart thing. If I did start thinking now, I'd know this probably wasn't the world's greatest idea, but I'm not letting those thoughts in yet, not until my mind is so dizzy from kissing him that my feet feel like they're six inches off the floor and my knees have been replaced by Jell-O and my spine is a big stick of melting butter.
He smells the same as he did the last time I saw him. It's hard to believe it was a year and half ago. It seems longer and shorter than that at the same time. That meeting after I was brought back was not a happy scene. We shuffled around the old, deserted farmhouse where we'd decided to meet and hemmed and hawed and looked uncomfortable with one another, probably because the temptation to do a lot more than stare at a century's worth of accumulated dust on the hearth was really, really high. He gave me a kiss on the forehead, very chastely, almost like he was afraid I'd break, and he held me for a while, but eventually he let go, and so did I, and the giant awkward silence of doom surrounded us.
I didn't tell him about heaven. It would have seemed like rubbing it in his face, I guess. "Nyah-nyah, I went to heaven and you got sent to hell!" He went through a lot worse than I did on the other side of things, and he wouldn't have understood. At least, I don't think he would have. Geez, just how long have I been avoiding people?
Shut up, internal Buffy. Just kiss him. Feel safe for a few minutes instead of feeling like the top of your head is going to blow off from all the pressure of being the highly unpopular den mother by proxy to a group of teenage girls from every corner of the globe while trying to stop yet another apocalypse. Some people go for chocolate when they want a guilty indulgence, and I've done the alcohol thing. Both are highly over-rated. But Angel's lips? Now there's a nice little escapist fantasy come true.
I know I'm going to have to stop kissing him soon. I may have Slayer powers and my lungs might be stronger than most, but I will eventually need to breathe, even if he doesn't. I don't want to think about what's going to happen then, about the inevitable conversation that could involve a very unpleasant question and answer session and will heavily involve use of the words "curse" and "leaving." He won't stay with me. I know that's not the way this is going to end.
So I just let my lungs burn for a while longer and kiss him more deeply. I'm not ready to give this up yet, this break, this non-thought, this moment when the whole world is on pause, not even if I pass out from the attempt. What could it possibly hurt?