DISCLAIMER: I don't own Angel or any other characters. Joss and the WB do, and yes, so do even (hiss) FOX. The song lyrics are from "Paint It Black" by the immortal Rolling Stones.
NOTE: This contains a very different view of IWRY than what I've heard a lot of people saying about the ep, so if you don't agree with my sentiments about it, please don't flame me.

"I look inside myself and see my heart is black,
I see my red door and I want it painted black.
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts,
It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black.
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue,
I could not foresee this thing happening to you."

It was a rare night off that found me sitting alone in my office once again, brooding over lost love and lost happiness.

The usual.

I was left alone to my brooding as Cordelia had gone on a date and Doyle had gone to watch a football game he'd bet on at a local bar. He'd asked me to come, but I declined as he probably expected I would. But he wanted to ask, and it was still kind of him to do so.

He's right, of course; I do spend too much time here lately. Cordelia was quite frank about it today and suggested that I do something, *anything* that doesn't involve sitting in a dark room. Someone in a movie once said something about their whole life being one big dark room, but I didn't use this line in my reply to Cordelia. I just told her I'd think about, and I have. And I decided that tonight, I would honor her wishes and do something else. If I was going to brood somewhere, it would be a place with different scenery. Even a creature so set in his ways as I am gets a little bored with monotony once and a while.

I went down to where I park my car and drove out of the lot without much of a thought on a destination for the evening. I drove the streets of Los Angeles for a while, and then headed for the city limits as fast as humanly possible. I didn't want to be in that city tonight.

I drove until I came to a deserted sandy beach surrounded by rock formations and small cliffs. In the darkness, with the full moon shining down on it, it was hauntingly beautiful.

I left the car parked a ways away and I walked out to the beach to a place next to one of the cliffs, right near the water line. There I sat on the beach and just looked out at the water. It was black, nighttime waters as they always are in my life, and looked like someone had painted the ocean black, as if someone had just spilled a bottle of India ink over everything. There were rivulets of white coming from the moon that was bathing everything in a ghostly white, but it was mostly ebony. I shut my eyes briefly as I laid back, allowing the sand of the beach to cushion my cold preternatural body. The empty night was completely silent, save the sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the occasional bird call. There was something about being by the ocean that made everything seem smaller because no matter the size of my problems or the greatness of my errors in life, neither was a big nor as great as the ocean in front of me.

I laid there, looking up at the stars, and briefly a thought came that I wished Buffy was here, but I banished it. Logically, I didn't want that; I wanted her to be happy and to be all the things she deserves to be, and to be here with me on this beach wouldn't give her any of those things. All the same arguments I'd used when she came here, and they still hold true. It doesn't make it any less sad, especially when I know that for a brief moment in time, I could have been the one to give her such things.

I turned my musings away from Buffy and back to where I was, because truly, there is no thought of Buffy that hasn't already entered my head before. The beach reminded me, oddly enough, of Galway. Near my home, we were within walking distance of a beach much like this one. I used to go down there every day I possibly could and play on the sand or swim in Galway Bay. I don't remember much of my childhood, because it was so long ago and those memories are usually overshadowed by other ones, but I knew I could never forget this.

I remember that as a boy, I loved the water. In summer, you couldn't have kept me away from it for longer than a few days without me going stir crazy. My older brother and I used to swim out together to see who could go the farthest; the one who said we were too far out and should go back was the loser, and usually it was me that uttered this phrase. He was the stronger of the two of us, but he never bragged about it or made me feel worthless because I couldn't keep up with him. He would always tell me, "Tomorrow. You'll beat me tomorrow."

When I was nineteen, tomorrow finally came. I'd grown out of an awkward adolescence into pretty much the same body and build that I have now and the day we went swimming together, I gave it everything, and it was my brother that day that said 'stop, let's go back.' When we returned to the shore, he didn't say anything, but the light in his eyes was enough.

Sitting on the beach, I watched the waves, and I rose to my feet.

I tossed off my shirt and pants and dove into the water. The taste of salt water immediately filled my mouth, and I'd honestly missed it. I began swimming and it immediately cleared my mind of almost all thoughts.

I was set in the ways of my boyhood and how I had learned to swim; I kept my head up long enough to take a breath and then put my head into the water. It was only after I'd been swimming for several minutes that I remembered, as I put one arm in front of the other in the slow, repeating stroke, that I didn't need to breathe. In finally recalling this fact, I dove a few feet under the cool water.

Suddenly the entire universe was black. It was like floating in empty, negative space, completely detached from the rest of the world.

In the darkness of the waters, I just continued to slowly swim away from the shore. In that water, it felt like the world itself fell away and all the past was just a frozen memory. I was surrounded by the most powerful force on earth; it made my emotional pain feel almost insignificant.

Even with the pain in me, the world keeps spinning and the waves keep moving.

Sometimes, I need to remember that.

Surprisingly, it helps. It keeps everything in focus.

Finally, I felt a bit of tiring in my arms so I stopped swimming and came up to the surface. In a reflex of my youth, I turned my head to see just how far I would have to swim to get back, and I could see nothing but blackness. There was no shoreline, no lights from land. Nothing. I was surrounded by blackness, except for the sky. Up there, there was light. Above me, the stars and moon shined on, and I lifted my head and shoulders out of the water slightly and with my arms at my side, gliding slowly in the water, I floated there, just looking up at the sky. Sadly, I don't take the time to do that anymore.

I forget that the stars are little suns, just like the one I'll never see again. But those ones are visible, they are mine for the viewing. Another thing I conveniently forget when I start brooding.

One more thing I forget: all the pain, all the anguish...it was worth it. It was worth it to have known and loved her. It was worth it to have that one day that I alone have and she will never know. It's not fair to her not to have it, but at least someone does and it happened, if only for me. If a memory lives on with one person, then it is never really dead and for all the pain that it causes me to think of it, I still treasure it.

I treasure a lot of things about that day. The feeling of actually being hungry, the taste of chocolate and peanut butter, the ability to see my reflection and to walk in the sun without the knowledge that the sunset would be my last like I knew it would be when I had the gem.

And her...who could forget her?

Well...everyone. I guess that's the whole point.

I spent the last few days and nights cursing everything for taking it from us, but I've stopped. I know now, looking up at the sky as I float in the water, that I was lucky...luckier than I deserved to be. I had those moments, and it was more than I'd ever hoped for and maybe more than I deserved in this life. But I'd had them, and they can't be taken from me. I don't wonder what would have happened had I chosen the other way. There was no choice, and my heart knows that. There's no questioning...just thoughts of what could have been, but they fill my head always anyway. I always think on what could have been, knowing full-well that it'll never be. I'm a masochist when it comes to emotional pain, I'll be the first to admit it.

But it's hard to concentrate on emotional pain when you are floating in the sea and you feel completely free. The ocean does that to me. It gives me freedom, and in freedom, there is no past or future...just present and that's all I wanted at the moment. No one thinks about the waves that came before or the ones that will come after; you only think about the one gently rocking you at that very moment.

To be liberated like that, to be able to think and to not think at the same time was a welcome feeling that I haven't had in far too long. On those waves, floating in the water, I still loved her and I still missed her, but it just...it didn't hurt quite so badly. Maybe the ocean is healing, and maybe it was healing me. If that is so, then I'm thankful for it, because the truth is, I could use a lot of healing in spirit and mind, considering the events of the last few years...of the last two hundred and forty four years....

In the water, it was like all my thoughts were healed. I didn't think about how I had lost love; I thought about how I had at least been able to have it for that short time. I didn't think about how I'd lost her; I thought about how I'd had her. And maybe the moment I stepped on shore these feelings and these thoughts might fade away, but to have them now was enough. They could disappear, but I will leave here knowing that for a moment on the ocean, floating in the waves, I felt my heart healing and a sense of long lost peace in my soul.

So there I floated, with a sense of calmness in my heart, looking up at the stars and the constellations. I even smiled to myself as I remembered the stories behind them. One was the tale of a hunter, one was the tale of a warrior, another of lovers forever kept apart by the fates. I know all about all those things, but I didn't dwell on it. To relate to the stories made up to go along with the stars was ludicrous. I wasn't Orion, I wasn't any of these people or these characters. I didn't relate...I just enjoyed them for what they were, and again, I can't remember the last time I did that. Maybe that was the most magical part of it all; I had all the reason in the world to hurt and to suffer as I floated there, but I did not. I enjoyed things that I hadn't in too long, and I *enjoyed* the memories of her.

That's how it should be.

I shouldn't hurt because I remember and because I am the only one that does. I may be cursed with the memory of that day, but I'm blessed too and in that water I swore that I would never think of it as otherwise, no matter the pain of knowing that she'd never know the happiness we'd felt. Yes, I'd loved and I'd lost, but for that moment I'd had everything and I was still grateful for that day. For those hours, those minutes and those seconds.

So, in the water I came to the conclusion that I wouldn't think of that day as anything but what it was; a moment in time I never dreamed I could have that had come true, if only in my memory alone. In truth, it's how it should be...Buffy deserves the memory but not the pain that comes with knowing we can't have another one after a day so perfect. A Catch-22 if ever there was one.

She deserves to be happy, and to have those memories and to know that we can't be that again would destroy any chance of that. I know this to be true...I know her. So maybe it is better that she never remember that for a moment in time we loved as surely and as truthfully as any two mortals, maybe more so. Maybe it's better, no matter how much it hurts now. I think I have to believe that.

Oh well...the world keeps turning, the waves keep moving. We move on, and that's all we can do.

I turned my head to the distant, blank shore too far away to see and decided it was time to head back. It was a long swim and I had to get there, get dressed, and get home, so I decided I should probably get going. I began swimming in the direction I'd come, briefly using the stars as navigation for which way I needed to go in case I'd somehow gotten turned around in the dizzying waters.

The swim back was lazy and slow because really, I didn't want the moment to end...I didn't want to set foot on land with a slight fear that all the headway I'd come in the relaxing waters of the Pacific might fade away...just like that day from her memory. But I kept going anyway, because I had to. I always keep going because I have to....

Finally, I came within sight of land and I could see the cliffs in the moonlight and I knew I was almost there. I waded off shore for a little while, until I couldn't do it any longer and then I headed in. About twenty feet from shore, I set foot on the sand under the water and then took a few long strides to the beach.

Touching the sand, I felt the same as I had in the water...a part of me was at peace with itself that hadn't been in a very long time. I truly think that something in that water healed something in my heart and relaxed a part of my soul, though what I can't say. But no matter what it was, the point is that I'm a little better for it, I think.

I dressed without the benefit of towel drying and went back to my car. I turned one fleeting glance to the beach and I knew that I'd come back to this place. If it started to hurt too much, I'd come back to the healing waves of the black nighttime waters of the ocean. I was sure of it.

I then turned my back on it, started the car and drove away.

I returned home, quite exhausted from my long swim. I almost headed for the shower, but I changed my mind, deciding to keep the smell of salt water and ocean in my hair, at least until the morning. I went to my bed, *the* bed of memories forgotten by all but me, and I laid down on it without a stab of pain going through my heart; something I hadn't done in several days.

I still remembered, and a part of me still anguishes over it, of course, but I didn't hurt so much anymore. I'd come to the realization in that water that those memories, while only mine, were more than I would have ever gotten otherwise, so to have them was a gift, not a curse, despite the pain that comes with the knowledge that I'd had happiness and then lost it so quickly.

That day and those memories were a gift from fate.

It was more than I was supposed to have, more than I deserved, and a spot in my heart will always treasure that day. Until the end of time, I know I'll remember it; I'll keep the memory with me forever.

END.