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Don't Say Goodbye

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Can you feel my love inside,
the way that my body's sighing with your every breath?
I try to memorize every move you're making,
so I'll never forget the way that you feel
whenever your heart is beating with mine.
Wherever I go I'll keep my memories of you inside.


~ Paulina Rubio


He looked at the light growing brighter and was vaguely amused by the irony of the situation.

It had all come down to this, this moment, and he, the supposed Seer, hadn’t, well, seen it coming.

The universe had a great sense of humor, if you chose to acknowledge it.

He wasn’t a hero. Never had any designs on being one. He’d much rather be sitting in a bar right now, drowning himself in a bottle of whiskey and leaving Angel to deal with all of this; it was, after all, the vampire’s job as the Champion. But he knew that it was more important for Angel to survive than he himself. Champions were much rarer than Seers.

And when he turned to Angel, he wondered what would become of him. Would he find his redemption? Would he one day reunite with Buffy? Doyle hoped so. Angel was a good man.

Vampire.

Whatever.

He was sure Angel would save the world many more times, but this time, this moment? It was all his.

He decked Angel and tried not to feel the shock at his success and a smug satisfaction in the act.

He then turned to Cordelia and saw in her eyes that she knew what he was about to do, but was fighting the realization in favor of confusion and outrage.

As he walked toward her, he struggled with what to say: that he loved her, always had and always would; that he wanted nothing for her but happiness, because she deserved nothing less; that this time with her and Angel had made him a better man, a better demon, a better soul; that she had come so far in these months, and just the glimpse of the woman she would become both humbled and filled him with pride, that he had been a small part of it; and that no matter where he ended up, for better or worse, he’d find a way to watch over her, that he would never leave her; that this wasn’t a sacrifice, because the world was better off with her in it.

And as he took her in his arms, all of that faded away as he experienced an epiphany: she was to take his place, and he couldn’t imagine anyone better.

Truth was the axiom by which she lived her life, and that pursuit, that dedication, had led her to her own Calling.

He closed his eyes briefly, drinking in her scent, the feel of her skin against his own, and tried not to feel cheated. He felt a part of himself pass into her, his own brand of immortality.

He kissed her goodbye, but wouldn’t say the word.