Apocalypse: Sunnydale
by Ducks

Part Two

Underground Sunnydale, May, 2017

Angel mopped his brow and stood to survey the land he tended.  They learned more every season about growing underground... and the crops showed it.  His seeds were planted and watered, and in a few months there would be corn, wheat, and cotton in these fields, for as far as the eye could see.  Long, thick rows of living things he had raised with his bare hands...

For the first time in his considerable life, there was nothing around him that Angel wasn't proud to be a part of.

He could feel the sun begin to set behind him - a talent he hadn't lost, although this sun was artificial... Now it was his cue to quit for the day and go to dinner.

Angel had to give up tea time, during planting season.  His schedule ran from dawn to dusk when there was so much to do.  Willow and the kids understood, and knew they could always count on the fact that he would spend the rest of the evening with them, once the work was done.

It was a good life.  He had friends who cared about him, responsibilities to fulfill, a home...He was respected in the community for his service and hard work, and most of all, he was needed.

As he walked back to the house, Angel thought about how far he'd come... all the many roles he had played over the years... from the bottom of the demon barrel to the top of the human world... at least, top of the underground.

And now he was a father, too.  Jeremy and Rhea had adopted him immediately, and taken it upon themselves to teach him everything there was to know about being a child... and a role model... Feelings he had long since forgotten...

In all of his fondest dreams, he never considered the possibility that he might, someday, have a family to raise.  And yet, there they were.  Sweet, brilliant, fantastic, beautiful children -- Buffy's children.  Every time he looked at them, he could see her... Jeremy was full of her mischievous streak and had her whip-like, sardonic humor.  Rhea was like her physical carbon copy, complete with the twinkle in her eye and the full-faced smile.

Angel loved them with all of his heart, and in a way, he felt that showing his love for the children was a way to continue to show his love for her.

Some part of him still believed she would come back.  After four years, the official hope was beginning to diminish, and the raids seemed less like a search for P.O.W.'s, and more like busy work for the Black Ops teams.

The Demon Forces were laying low, these days.  No new attacks in over a year, even on the psychic plane.  They seemed to pull farther and farther back every day, toward the north or the far south, depending on their temperature preference.  There was talk among some humans of returning to the surface.  Of course, that was impossible.  The air was barely breathable for more than brief periods, and the ground would be useless for planting for possibly hundreds of years.  They were better off where they were.

Angel was all for the press of progress.  HE helped the community work toward it, every day.  But underneath it all, his only fear was that all the demons would disappear, and the army would stop looking for any more prisoners to rescue.  He was afraid they would give up on Buffy before she was found.

Willow was the only one who understood and supported his conviction that Buffy was still alive.  She always said that the surest tie to Buffy's life essence was he himself.  If something horrible happened to Buffy, he would surely know.

Angle had started to doubt that himself in the past year.  What if they weren't that connected anymore? What if all the years and their respective pain had dulled them to one another? What if something had happened to her when he was in prison, out of his senses?  He might not have been able to feel her, then...

No.  Even when he was in Hell, he could still feel her.  She was still alive, he knew it.  The hope of seeing her smile again was sometimes the only thing that got him through the hardest days...

It was a good life, but he still missed her.

Rhea turned 7 on May 21st.  Birthdays were celebrated in grand style in the Community, and there was little chance the daughter of the City's most beloved hero would rate any less than a carnival in the truest sense.

The entire block nearest the Town Square was cordoned off, and bedecked with decorations... Chinese lanterns, colorful flags and streamers, and the sounds of happy laughter and music in the air.

Angel walked through he crowds, smiling at the revelry.  He hadn't seen anything like this... well, since the last children's birthday party.  The market tables had packed up and moved down here from the main square, and were giving wares away for free to ensure that everyone got a gift.  Free hot dogs and fried dough, free soda, lemonade, and beer.  Some enterprising soul had even set up a bar, which was quickly packed with the pro-drinking set.  They hunched over their liquor as they talked amongst themselves.

There were all kinds of folk, living down here.  As long as you pulled your own weight and didn't break any laws, the community never judged the behavior of its members.

Good thing, considering the crowd was dotted with vampires and other demons, all come out for the party.

In life, there was nothing Angel had enjoyed more than a fair.  The lights, the noise, the horrendously unhealthy junk food... He loved the atmosphere of carefree joy that so perfectly matched his irrepressible personality as a young man.

//I must be getting really old.// he thought.  He found himself more likely than ever to slip into quiet reminiscing... Although he was almost happier now than he had ever been, he still had a tendency to wander back to "Then".

The birthday carnival evoked those old nostalgic feelings again, and he found his joy at the festivities for Rhea's birthday was softened somewhat, by the melancholy that snuck up on him.

He wasn't at all startled by Willow's hand seemingly coming out of nowhere and settling into the crook of his arm.  Walking together had become a familiar habit, and she fell into pace with his long stride easily.

He looked down at her and smiled.  She was a breathtaking woman... her skin still smooth and soft, and her eyes still full of kindness and innocent wonder.  The only hint that she might be older than she seemed were the streaks of silver that peppered her long, deep auburn hair.  She often wore it in a tight bun when she worked, but tonight it hung loose around her shoulders, with only the top held away from her face by a green barrette.

Her sweet smile had become like a blessing on his already fulfilled days, and her strong hand in his had become a foundation stone of his new life.

"Enjoying the party?" She asked, smiling warmly up at him.

"I'll never get used to this..." he said, "I haven't been able to get near Rhea all night."

"Well, we are celebrating her... it's only right that she be celebrated.  Especially since..." she hesitated, looking down at the ground as they walked.

He knew exactly what she left unsaid.  He slid his arm up and over her fine shoulders and gave her a squeeze.  "I wish she were here to see this, too." he said quietly, "Every birthday is an important milestone... especially for Rhea and Jeremy."

Willow nodded and quickly wiped a tear that had escaped her eye with her free hand.

They walked with their arms around one another, in familiar, sad silence.

"Speaking of milestones," she said finally, "Jeremy is going to be 13 next month."

Angel smiled, "I know."

Willow looked up at him sheepishly.  "I think... maybe... it's, uh... it's time he had... you know... the talk?"

Angel stopped and looked at her.  "What talk?" he asked, confused.

Willow blushed.  "The Talk.  About... man things."

Angel slumped a little.  He hadn't even considered it.

"I talked to him... you know... about the physical stuff... what they learn in school... puberty... protection, abstinence and all that... but... I think maybe there should be a man-to-man, too.  About... the other stuff."

Ideas flew through Angel's mind so quickly, he could hardly keep track of a single one.  There were so many things he could tell the boy...

"You're right.  I guess someone should... I mean, I should..." Angel said.

"You are the closest thing he has to a father." Willow went on, "He adores you.  If you talk to him... about the emotional stuff... he'll respect what you say, and I think he'll take it more seriously than if it came from me... or anybody else..."

Angel nodded, took her hand, and began to walk again.

"Okay.  I'll talk to him this weekend." he said.

"Good." Willow approved.

The night was like magick.  Warm and clear, and filled with the joyous sounds of celebration all around them.  One could almost forget that the night sky was a hologram on the biodome roof, the stars were so bright.

She and Angel had stolen away from the party after the gifts were presented to Rhea.  It was almost 10 p.m., and families were slowly wandering off toward home, leaving only those more inclined to party behind.  The birthday girl was having a giant sleepover, at the Children's Farm, leaving Angel and Willow free, as well.

They climbed up the grassy hill that looked over the square, and sat down.  Willow curled her legs up underneath her, and Angel clasped his bent knees in his arms, and they looked quietly out over the hoopla.

"Definitely a hootenanny..." Willow said, and pulled a bottle of champagne out of her bag.

Angel grinned at her.  "Did you steal that, Harris?"

She handed him the bottle.  "Of course not.  I had it smuggled in from the East Coast."

"Ah." He chuckled, and popped the cork.  The foam bubbled over, and Angel laughed as he avoided the mess.  Willow laughed with him, then magickally produced a pair of plastic cups out of her seemingly bottomless bag.

"Viola!" she said, and held them out to him.

Angel smiled as he filled the cups, and then took one.  "That's my Willow.  Always prepared..." he said.

Willow held up her glass.  "To Rhea Summers-Finn.  May she have many more... But maybe not as many as you."

"Here here!" He said heartily, and tapped her glass with his own.

They sipped their champagne in companionable silence.  Soft music floated up the hill to them... a perfect, happy sound track to a perfectly warm moment.  

"I love this song..." Willow said happily as the first notes of an old country tune reached them.

Angel looked over at her, and smiled once again.  She looked so beautiful in the early summer moonlight...

"Would you like to dance?" he asked her.

Willow smiled broadly.  "I would love to." she said.

Angel got to his feet and offered his hand to help her up.  Dancing had never been one of his favorite activities, at least not in the modern sense, but he still had some skill with a slow waltz...

He proved his worth as he took Willow in his arms the old fashioned way, and she leaned comfortably into him as they swayed to the music.

Willow breathed his clean scent, and the sweet night air deep into her lungs.  Nights like this could almost make the past twenty years fade into a hazy mist...

Angel swung her around, and she squealed with delight.  He loved to make her smile, and did whatever he could, as often as he could, to make it happen.

He couldn't remember ever feeling so fulfilled... so free.  Hardly a worry invaded his mind, letting the cotton soft moment surround them like an old blanket.  He didn't think he had been so happy in a very long time, and neither did she.  

Willow pulled back a little, and beamed up at him.  "You're smiling." she observed.

He nodded.  "I'm happy."

Her own smile grew, "Not perfectly, I hope..." she joked.

Angel actually laughed.  He wasn't afraid of Angelus... not anymore... "Almost..." he said.

Their eyes met, and their slow swaying ceased as they stared into one another's face.

Willow felt a little shiver run through her at his intense gaze.  She felt like a girl again, suddenly, shy and unsure as she hadn't been in decades.  Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart pounded.

Angel caressed her face with his eyes, and held his own breath as he moved closer to her.  The journey seemed to be a million miles, and took a million years, until his lips at last touched hers, faintly... hesitantly.

The moderator, and the Elder's Council, began whispering among themselves.  Angel focused intently, trying to use his supernaturally keen hearing to discern their discussion.  Of course, the Elders had nothing to hide, really.  The whispering was merely a formality, a show of respect, and to spare the Council Members cold discussions about the possible fate of their loved ones -- and the fact that they might soon be declared dead without anyone ever knowing their true fate.

Angel felt years of memories wash over him, as though he were caught in some rising high tide.  He remembered the first time he saw Buffy... the first time he took her strong, little hand in his own... He remembered the first time he kissed her, and the first time he told her he loved her, and she said it in return.  HE remembered the first time, and the last time, they made love.  And he remembered their final, tense meeting, in battle, 15 years ago.

"The elders believe this matter is best put to a common vote." Alaya said, "The families and friends of the missing should determine their ultimate fate.  Should the vote say yay, the MIA files will be closed, and the memorial project will commence as soon as possible.  If nay, we will continue Special Operations searches as usual.  Is everyone prepared for a vote?"

A hum of affirmation filed the room, and the official vote-counters rose and stepped forward to perform their duty.

Angel wished Willow was there beside him.  Out of loyalty,  and his continued hope that Buffy was still alive, he was inclined to vote nay to closing the MIA files.  But his head, and his heart, knew it was time for the community -- and he and his family -- to move on.  It was time to give all these mourning hearts some badly needed closure.

"A binding full council vote has been brought to the table." Alaya said formally, "Shall the community of Sunnydale close its list of those missing in action, and begin construction of the war memorial? Please raise you hand if you vote yes."

Angel looked down at the old, worn claddaugh ring on his finger.  Once more, his head filled with Buffy's sunshine smile.

After a moment, with tears in his eyes to match those of his neighbors all around him, Angel raised his hand, and said a final goodbye to his one true love.

He took nearly an hour to walk the short distance from the Council hall to Willow's house.  She had made herself scarce since Rhea's carnival the week before... since their stolen kiss.  She came late for dinner, when she came at all, and had cancelled tea every day, saying she was too busy.

He knew what had passed between them confused her.  He knew she needed time to sort out the complicated relationship they shared.

But tonight, he needed her.  Needed to mourn with the only living person who really knew Buffy.

The house was dark when he arrived, and he could see the children's bedroom on the first floor was empty, indicating they had gone to spend the night at the Farm.

'Good.' he thought, as he climbed the stairs, 'I don't think I could handle telling them this, tonight...'

Willow's bedroom door was ajar, and he could see the outline of her sleeping form, curled up in a tight ball under the covers.  He felt a little shiver run the length of his spine at the realization of how fiercely he'd come to rely on her as the one sure thing that remained of his old life... the one person, in all the world, who remembered who he once was, and how he had come to be here, now.

He stood in the doorway, watching her deep, even breathing.  Her hair splayed out over her pillows, obscuring her pretty face in a silver-streaked, titian waterfall.

Angel realized, with a sudden flash he could almost call an epiphany, that he loved her.  Not in the searing, gut-wrenching, soul-deep way he'd loved her best friend, but in a simpler, almost deeper way.  Willow was his touchstone... His centre, along with the children.  If it had not been for her, he would not be the contented, happy man he was today.  Without her, he would never have had the strength to let Buffy go.

He only hoped that Willow would be as prepared as he had been.

He walked slowly to the bed, and sat down on its edge.  He looked down at her, and gave in to the sudden urge to reach out and bush her hair away from her face.  When he did, he saw that her full, pink lips wore a little smile.

Seeing that, he hesitated.  Perhaps it would be better to leave this until tomorrow... let her keep her happy dreams...

But no sooner had he decided to leave, then her eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled sleepily as she realized he was there.

"Hi." she said softly.

Angel looked deeply into her eyes, trying his hardest to keep control... to keep from breaking down like a lost, terrified child in her warm arms.  Willow had been strong for him when he hadn't even had the energy or will to rise in the morning.  Now it was his turn...

She noticed his pained expression, and slowly sat up.

"Angel... I'm... I'm sorry.  For avoiding you all week.  I'm just..." she looked away, "I'm really confused.  This is... so much... I don't... understand... the way I feel about you.  And when you kissed me..." her voice drifted off, and she looked back into his sweet, familiar face.

He sighed softly.  "Willow, you don't have to apologize.  I do.  I shouldn't have... I mean, we should have talked about things, first.  I should have thought..." and he too lapsed again into silence, plunged into the memory of why he was here, and for the first time, realized what the night of the carnival had truly meant.  Buffy must be dead... and his heart, though forever marked by knowing her, was moving on.

Willow watched his eyes glaze over and his lips frown, and a new fear came over her.

"You didn't come here to talk about us..." she observed.

He shook his head.  "No.  Not exactly.  There's... something else."

Her eyes flew open wide in terror, "Not the children..."

"No, no." he said quickly, "They're fine."

"Then... what?" she searched his face for a sign.  

Angel was unable to meet her eyes.  After a moment, another realization dawned on her, "The Council meeting... Angel, what happened?"

Almost overcome by the pain of what he was about to say, Angel squeezed his eyes tightly shut, fighting for strength and control yet again.

"There was... a vote... brought to the table tonight.  By the... Memorial Committee." he said weakly.

Willow felt her heart lurch in her chest.  "But... they... they were going to wait... They weren't going to build the memorial until all the MIA's and POW's were accounted for..." her voice cracked, desperate.

He nodded.  "The vote included a referendum to declare the remaining missing..."

"DEAD?!" She cried, "They're NOT DEAD! They can't DO that! BUFFY'S NOT DEAD! " Her voice shattered at the last, and she collapsed, sobbing into his arms.

He rocked her tenderly, placing little kisses into her hair.  "I know... I..." he closed his eyes once again, "It was time... it's been six years..."

"No..." Willow cried weakly into his chest, "Nononononononononono...." She shook her head wildly, clutching at him.

Angel finally lost his reserve, and began sobbing right along with her.  "I had to... We have to... we have to let her go, Willow.  For the kids... for us... We have to.  She's not coming back.  She's gone."  he was babbling senselessly, now, desperately trying to convince himself as much as her that he had done the right thing.  He allowed the pain of knowing he would never see the face of the woman who had saved his life... his heart and his soul... ever again crush him like a tidal wave.  He clutched Willow to him, hoping that her warm body could keep him from washing away...

It seemed hours that they held one another, and cried.  The river of tears slowly became a stream, and then a trickle... the pain had exhausted them both into near numbness.  Angel sat with his eyes closed, just listening to her heart beat.

After a moment, she sat up, still in his strong embrace, and looked into his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Angel." she said, "I know how much you loved her."

His heart broke.  Willow was the kindest, most selfless soul he had ever known, bar none.  Even in the face of her own grief, she was thinking of him, and his pain.

He slowly reached up and brushed a tear away from her soft cheek, and looked deeply into her sad brown eyes.  Of all the people in all the world he had known, there was no one else he would have been able to share this pain with... no one else who would understand.  There was no one left alive who knew him better.  Maybe there was no one who had before, at all... who never judged who he was or who he had been... no one else who asked nothing of him but that he exist, and truly be himself.

Willow blinked as he slowly moved toward her, and gasped involuntarily when his cool lips touched her own warm ones.  She hesitated for a split second, and then returned the kiss.

The feeling of her warmth, her living, glorious warmth, so close to him sent a shudder through his body... the kiss became harder... deeper... Angel could hear her heart pounding.

Willow tangled her hands in his careless hair and plunged headlong into the desire that shrieked through her.  It had been so long since she'd been with anyone... so many lonely years... the only ease had been Angel's company...

There was no one else left, now.  No one left in all the world they had loved, but one another.  There was no more hope... only this... this desperate longing, this incredible sadness... and the love that had grown between them.

Willow tore off his light jacket and tee shirt, and pushed him back onto the bed.  He didn't resist.  In fact, her assertiveness only made him want her more.  He devoured her ruthlessly, desperately reaching for her, needing her to fill the void left suddenly within him.

Angel flipped her over and shredded her nightshirt, assaulting her fair, freckled skin with his hands and his mouth... Her lips were so sweet.  Her skin, like salted silk as he licked her.  He didn't think he had ever needed anything as frantically as he need her, right at this moment.

"I love you, Willow..." he whispered into her ear, "I need you so much..."

She sighed, and pulled him closer, "I love you, too, Angel." she said.

The artificial night sang softly around them, and the starlight lit their tear-stained faces as they made love.

The pounding on the door woke him from a peaceful, exhausted slumber.  His eyes snapped open as the sound registered, and he was almost surprised to find Willow sleeping in his arms.  He smiled, and for a moment, was overcome with a feeling of pure, unadulterated joy at the memory of what they had shared last night.

But only a moment.  In the next breath, he remembered what had brought him here, in the first place.

Buffy was dead.

Angel was startled back to reality when the pounding resumed, followed by the shouting:

"Oy! Harris!  Willow, are you alright, in there?"

Spike.  Never before in the almost 200 years he had known the vampire, had he wanted to see him less.

Trying not to wake Willow, Angel reached for his clothes and got out of bed, dressing quickly.  He quietly shut the door behind him, bolted down the stairs, and threw open the front door, enraged.

"WHAT do you WANT!?!" Angel snapped at him, "WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?"

Spike blinked.  Of all the gruesome things he'd expected to find at the good doctor's house, the last was his squishy-hearted sire, all bed headed and in his jammies.  Spike cocked a wry eyebrow at him.

"Well. Well, well, well." he said, and pushed his way past Angel.  "It's about bloody time."

Angel reached out and grabbed Spike by the collar and spun him around.

"I asked you a question." He spat in his childe's face.

Spike leered at him, "I came to see WILLOW." he said.

Angel growled softly and clenched his teeth, "She's sleeping."

"No she's not." Willow said, coming down the stairs in her tattered old bathrobe, her hair carelessly pulled back in a messy ponytail.  Her eyes were red and shadowed, and a bewildered expression framed her face.

Angel let Spike go, and both vampires stared at her.

"Hi Spike." she said softly, but sincerely.

A look Angel had never seen before swept across Spike's face.  He stepped forward and placed a porcelain white hand with black-painted fingernails on Willow's thin shoulder.  He looked down at her sadly.

"I heard about the Council Vote." he said, "The Slayer..."

Willow nodded, tears immediately springing to her eyes.

Angel stood frozen, dumbfounded by Spike's genuine display of warmth and compassion.  Willow seemed to bring out the best in everyone...

"Hey.  Oh, there... don't..." Spike said, tensing noticeably for a moment as she grabbed him and began sobbing into his shoulder.  He looked helplessly at Angel, but his tortured eyes were still trained on Willow.

Spike shrugged, and put his arms around her.  He loved her, in his evil, soulless, demon way.  She had always been kind to him... at least when he hadn't been doing his damndest to kill her... She'd always encouraged him and supported him, and had, strangely enough, become his friend.

"Oh, God.  I'm sorry." Willow said, letting Spike go and mopping at her face, "I have to stop this.  The kids will be home soon." Her eyes shot to Angel, who still stood by the front door.  "Oh, god, Angel... what are we going to tell the kids?"

Angel finally shook off his stupor, and came to stand beside her, putting his arm protectively around her shoulder.

"I don't know." he said, and took her fully into his arms, where she stood quietly, held against his still chest.

Spike fidgeted uncomfortably.  "Can I... is there... anything I can do?" he asked.

Angel looked morosely at him and shook his head.  Willow had once again begun to cry softly.  He looked off into space, leaning his cheek on the top of her head.

Spike nodded, saying nothing else as he left.  Even he knew when to make a graceful exit.  With the Slayer gone, and what appeared to be a new relationship growing between the Witch and his Sire, he figured they had a lot to work out.

Spike almost felt sorry for the poor, suffering bastard.  Almost.

The afternoon was sunny and clear, when the community gathered for the unveiling of the memorial at the center of Town Hall Park.  Beautiful oak trees had been planted, ad benches placed all around the monument, making it the perfect place to sit and remember all of those they had lost... the heroes who gave their lives so that the world might remain theirs, and not become a branch office of Hell.

Angel stood with one arm around Willow, and held Rhea's tiny hand in his free one.  Jeremy stood on the other side, proud and strong.  He had shaken off Willow's offer to hold his hand, but as they stood there, listening to the speeches and the memories shared out loud by their neighbors, he leaned into her, laying his golden head on her shoulder, like the boy he truly was, talk or no.

Willow smiled sadly down at him, and kissed him lightly on the top of the head, giving him a squeeze.

No one cried.  Angel felt like all of the tears had already been sucked out of him over the past few years, until he had nothing left inside him.  It was as though all of the color had run out of his world, along with his hope for Buffy's return.

He looked next to him, at his lover.  She had lost weight in the past three months, and she took pills sometimes, to help her sleep.  Every smile she gave him seemed thin and empty.  He knew the feeling intimately.

At least they still had one another.  In time, they knew the pain would ease, and they would still have each other to turn to.  Of all of the horror of the past 20 years, at least they would come away with that.

Willow smiled up at him, her eyes also dry.  He returned the gesture.

"Does anyone else have anything they'd like to say before we unveil the memorial?" Johnson Stewart, the leader of the Memorial Committee, said.

Willow gave Angel and Jeremy a final squeeze, and stepped forward to the podium.  Angel put his arms around both kids and pulled them close to him.  They were sad, too, but it was different.  Their mother had been dead for them for most of their lives... she had disappeared the minute she left their lives, and Willow and Angel were now the only parents they knew.

She stood in front of the podium, and surveyed the huge crowd that filled the park.  So many faces... and every one showed the scars of having the name of a friend or a loved one up on that wall...

"My name is Willow Rosenburg Harris... many of you know me from my work with the Healers, and with the Children's Farm.  I have lived in this community since the first day it was liberated from Demon occupation.  But I have lived in Sunnydale my entire life.  I have watched the battles grow, and then fade once again, since this town was still a sleepy suburb built on top of a Hellmouth.  I have been here from the beginning, and I, or someone from my family, have known and cared about every one of the people whose names are carved in this wall..."

She turned and searched the hundreds of names, until she came to the first that she recognized.

"Cordelia Chase." she read, "Cordelia and I went to high school together, from second grade on.  We weren't friends... in fact, we couldn't stand each other.  But we fought, side by side, anyway.  Cordelia was beautiful and essentially, kind..." she smiled at Angel, "She was the only person I have ever known who was never afraid to speak her mind."

"Daniel Osbourne.  Oz." she said, feeling her throat tighten a little, "He was... a werewolf, in the days when that was a dangerous thing to be.  He lived his life with brilliant good humor, and a song in his heart... he was... my friend."

She went on, speaking about Xander, her childhood friend and eventually, husband... about his growth from a loud-mouthed, awkward youth to the smiling, stalwart champion he had been when he died.  She talked about Giles, and all of the things he'd meant to her and her friends.  She even listed Doyle among the long list of her friends and classmates who had disappeared or died, like Larry and Jonathan, Percy and Harmony, Riley and Forest... Tara...

There was only one name left on the list.  Willow looked to where Angel stood, holding the children.

"Buffy Summers-Finn." she said, "She was... the Slayer.  And my closest friend for almost twenty years.  All of you knew her... or at least have heard of her... some of you..." her eyes came to rest once more on Angel, "knew her as well as I did."

Angel could barely hear Willow's words any longer -- he had found the well where his tears had been hiding, and they spilled forth once again, threatening to wash him away.  Willow spoke about sleepovers and demon-killing, about shopping and exorcisms, about the children, and about how Buffy felt about the community, itself.

"In the end, she was an example for all of us.  A woman willing to sacrifice anything, and everything to make the world safe for her friends... her children..." her voice broke, and tears began to stream down her cheeks, "Thank you, Buffy... for being my friend... for all of this... We will never forget..." She broke down, leaning hard against the podium.  Angel asked Jeremy to watch Rhea, and ran forward to support her as she fell apart.

Carol Blue, the old Spinner who had first found Angel outside Buffy's decimated home all those years ago, stepped out of the crowd as Angel led Willow away.  She lay one kind hand on his broad back, and another on Willow's thin, shaking one.

"That was beautiful, dear." She said, "She would have been honored.  And proud, to see all that you have done with what she started..."

Angel smiled sadly at her.  "Thank you, Carol.  For everything." he said.

The old woman smiled fondly at the handsome vampire, reminded once again of her own long-lost son.  "Why don't you let me take the children to the Farm? The two of you should take some quiet time for yourselves."

Willow nodded, whuffling pitifully.  "That's very kind of you, Carol... but only if it's not too much trouble."

Carol smiled.  She liked these young people.  They were very different from the pictures the stories painted of them... the mysterious souled vampire and the powerful Witch -- both fabled friends of the Slayer they had just paid tribute to.

But they were three-dimensional, multi-faceted people that couldn't be captured in any fairy tale.  The way the vampire seemed to use his whole body to shield her... the way she leaned into him as if his arms were the only safe place in the world...

//Ah, to be in love again... But those days are long past, for me...//

She patted Willow and smiled gently at Angel, before walking away to find Jeremy and Rhea.

Angel entered the room quietly, in case Willow was asleep.  But she simply lay in the bed staring forlornly off into space.  She brightened a little when she saw him, and scooted over to make room for him to sit beside her.  He did, and Willow lay her head in his lap.

"You know, the first time I met her, Cordelia was insulting me." Willow said wistfully, "I ran away.  I was so... timid... small... But Buffy changed all that.  She changed everything for me."

Angel thought about what she said for a moment.  "For me, as well..." he agreed.

Willow turned over to look at him.  "How do you mean?"

He looked off into the distance, remembering as he spoke.  "When I first got my soul back, I flew Europe for America.  I was... crippled, really... useless.  I lived on the streets, just wasting away, torturing myself... waiting to die.  Then this demon, The Whistler, came to me and said that I had a chance to make something of myself.  To pay some retribution... to do some good... He said he had something to show me..."

"Buffy?" Willow asked, sitting up.  She'd never heard any of this before.  In fact, she never heard much of anything about the past, from him.  He always said that all that mattered was now.

Angel nodded.  "I saw her called.  I saw her first attempts at slaying.  I watched her for a long time before she came to Sunnydale."

"I didn't know that." She said.

"No one did.  I didn't even tell Buffy until her 18th birthday."

"You've been in love with her for a long time." Willow said.

Angle looked at her.  There was no bitterness or jealousy in her voice, only a clear understanding of the feelings that he and Buffy had shared for one another.  It was a foregone conclusion, and no threat to her, at all.

He thought once again, for perhaps the millionth time, what an extraordinary woman Willow was.

"I have." he said, "But the first time we met, she almost killed me.  She kicked me in the back... knocked me flat."

Willow chuckled.  "How romantic."

Angel couldn't help but smile at the memory himself.  "Yeah.  It was."

"The first time you and I met, I called you mom." 

Angel turned to look at her, and his smile grew broad, "You're grouchy when you've been knocked unconscious by a gas leak set up by an invisible girl..." he joked.

She whacked him in the arm.  Then her demeanor became serious again.  "That invisible girl might have been me if it weren't for you guys... Xander... Oz... Buffy."

Angel said nothing.  He knew in his soul he would have been long dead, had he never known Buffy.  He never would have seen all the wondrous, terrifying things he's seen, or experienced such a range of glorious emotion.  Buffy had helped him to feel human, again.  The greatest gift he had ever received...

They lapsed into thoughtful silence, quietly watching the minutes tick by, and thinking about all of their lost friends.  The sun began to set, and Angel scooted down the bed, looking out the window as he took Willow into his arms.

"Angel?" She asked.

"Mm?" he said sleepily.

"Do you think she'd be angry? I mean... about us?"

The question took him by surprise.  He opened his eyes and looked down at her.  His love for Willow was an utterly different creature than what he felt for Buffy.  But now, all these years later, he felt it might be all the love he would ever need.

"No.  I think she would be glad we were still alive, and that we were taking care of each other... and the kids... I don't think she would be upset." he answered.

"She loved us." Willow said.

Angel sighed.  Every detail of the world they lived in... every moment that they spent together... reminded him that she did.

Next Part

Feedback

Go here for more of Ducks's stories.

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page