"When you kiss me," she whispers, "I want to die." And their lips collide in the space above her knees. Buffy slides her hands through his hair, traces her fingers over his ears and waits for the moment when kissing him feels like falling. But there is no euphoria here, no bliss, heaven is eons away and Angel's skin is cold as the grave.

I hope you don't mind comments on an old story (I wandered over here thanks to a link to your most recent story on su_herald by rahirah); and this is just lovely and sad - and one of the two or three (?) best fics about this moment I have ever read. And I'm a sucker for stories that capture Buffy's frame of mind in that period. this FITS the characters so, so beautifully; my mind kept going back to Buffy's statement to her friends afterwards "it was...intense." Indeed this is. Very well done.