Disclaimer: Not mine, don't own, get the picture?
A/N: This is it, last chapter. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this. Thanks to all my loyal readers and reviewers, you guys give me major happies.

She'd never thought she'd use words like idyllic to describe her life, but this summer, that term seemed more apt than she'd ever dared to hope.

It was odd, but the Hellmouth seemed to run on a seasonal cycle. May was serious apocalypse season, and February to a lesser extent. Evil had a tendency of building throughout the winter. And summer tended to be the quietest time. She didn't see any reason why it should work like that (nor, for that matter, why it was that trouble tended to happen on Tuesdays), but she chalked it up to 'the Hellmouth is bizarre and inexplicable' and didn't bother too much about it. Anyway, she'd probably feel different come winter, but right now, when she could practically go through her patrols in her sleep, she wasn't about to complain.

She'd moved into the mansion shortly after graduation. Unsurprisingly, her mother had been less than pleased, but this was one matter on which Buffy refused to budge. Eventually, Joyce had to concede there wasn't anything she could do about it, and the most she could do was to content herself that her daughter was happy. For there could be no mistaking that Buffy was happy – no, make that downright ecstatic – to be living with her lover.

As was typical of a teenager (and she had more reason than most), each day after school let out, she gradually got up later each morning and turned in later each night. After a week or two, she finally said to herself what the heck; she had to be out at night anyways, so what was the point in trying to get up at a 'normal' time and stretch her waking hours past the point of comfort when she didn't need to? So she simply shifted around her sleep schedule to be essentially nocturnal. It was just one more way that she was settling in. It didn't take her long to adjust, and soon enough she had a comfortable routine. For once things seemed relatively easy; the biggest issues she had to deal with were picking classes for college in the fall, and trying to determine whether what was evening and what was morning were redefined when one was nocturnal.

When Buffy awoke, the feeling of silk sheets against her bare skin alerted her immediately to where she was. Only Angel had silk sheets. (Also, she didn't sleep nude at home – no, her mother's house; this was home now. Not that she didn't feel at home here, she was more than comfortable, she just couldn't quite believe she was actually living here. Nearly a month, and she was still in awe – but that was beside the point.) It was decadent, yes, but she'd discovered quickly that Angel had a very tactile nature. The shirts she so liked to steal from him (hey, a girl's gotta have a hobby) also tended to be of particularly fine fabrics. He'd admitted once that those were his indulgences.

She'd also discovered that there was a great sensual pleasure simply in slipping between soft, smooth sheets. She feared she was becoming spoiled.

Of course, such a pleasure was nothing compared to that simply of having her lover's cool body beside her. But that was a pleasure she had to forgo for the moment. She'd learned to stop worrying about waking up alone; Angel was nearly always up before her. At first he made an effort to stick around as she was still fighting the insecurities left over from the previous year. Now she understood that getting up at the crack of dusk was how he worked, and she wasn't about to give up her lazy teenager prerogative of sleeping in.

Speaking of said prerogative…. Buffy yawned and wondered if she could get away with sleeping an hour or two more. She turned to the window and pulled back the heavy, dark drapes at one side, looking out over the town. The sun had sunk halfway down the horizon, but there was still a little while left before full dark. She pulled the drapes closed and, feeling lazy, decided she could afford a bit more time.

The next time she awoke, she was brought gradually back to consciousness by the sensation of a gentle hand running over her hair. She sleepily rolled closer to her lover. She felt so relaxed and comfortable, she didn't want to get up, didn't even want to open her eyes.

"Angel?" she murmured.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"Not really. 'Sides, I can't think of a nicer way to wake up," she replied, stifling a yawn and opening her eyes halfway. "Don' be sorry."

"You just looked so peaceful sleeping like that. I couldn't resist," he said.

She smiled, content for the moment to bask in his affection. Then she stretched, and rubbed at bleary eyes. "How late's'it?" she mumbled semi-coherently.

Fortunately, he knew how to translate her sleepy-talk. "A little after eight," he replied.

"M'kay," Buffy said. She considered for a moment. "Told the guys we'd show at the Bronze … probably don't have to be there till nine, nine-thirty, so no real rush…."

He laughed, recognizing the leading statement, and softly tapped her head. "What are you thinking?"

She gave him an innocent, pouty look. Then she reached out, clasping his large hand in her smaller one. "Come to bed?"

"Of course, beloved," he replied softly.

Buffy wandered through a crowd that was, in her opinion, entirely too big. Looking around for some way of getting her bearings, she spotted a familiar red head and ran to catch up.

"Buffy, hey!" Willow greeted her.

"Oh boy, am I glad to see you," Buffy said. "It is way too early for my brain to function."

Willow laughed. "It's past one p.m., Buffy."

"I know. It's too early," the Slayer repeated.

"Whatever you say, vampire-hours girl," Willow teased. "Isn't this cool? There's so much going on." She enthusiastically gestured around the campus quad.

Buffy couldn't help smiling at her friend's enthusiasm for the college experience, but personally she was just feeling overwhelmed. "Yeah. Almost, one might say, too much."

Willow hardly noticed, continuing excitedly, "I got all my courses … except for 'Modern Poetry', I had to switch to 'Ethnomusicology'. But that's cool, West-African drumming, I think it's going to change everything. I haven't got my roommate yet, I hope she's cool."

"I hope your roommate's cool too, Will," Buffy smiled. "But I've gotta say, I'm kinda glad I don't have worry about that."

"You don't have to rub it in," Willow teased.

Buffy laughed, then took a deep breath, "Okay, let's do this. On to the next great adventure." She noticed the fliers in Willow's hands. "Ooh, I see you got ticketed too."

"Yes!" Willow agreed. "I've heard about five different issues, and I'm angry about them all. What'd you get?"

Chatting happily, the friends headed off, confident they could handle whatever life threw at them.