Years Later Series:
Last Try
by KNS

Part One

"Hello? Willow, please."

"May I tell Mrs. Rosenburg who is calling?" The voice at the other end of the line was stuffy, and sounded offended that the lady of the house should be called by her first name.

Typical Englishman, Buffy mouthed to Angel.

I'm shocked, he returned, then continued hanging shirts in the closet.

"It's Anne," Buffy told the man on the phone.

"Hold just a moment, please."

Buffy glanced around the hotel suite. It was nice - big enough not to be crowded, small enough to be cozy. The tv was large, the towels had their own warmer, and the fridge was stocked with all kinds of goodies. But to her eyes, the best thing in the entire place was the man frowning darkly at the clothes that still needed to be fit into the closet.

"I knew we should have brought more hangers," she heard him mutter.

"Hello - this is Willow Rosenburg. How can I help you?"

Buffy smiled at Willow's no-nonsense tone. "Depends on what's in your fridge," she teased.

"Buffy!" Willow cried, her tone completely changed. "Why didn't you tell Williams it was you?!"

"That kinda would've ruined the whole surprise thing. Hey, guess who's in town?"

"You're here! Why aren't you here - at the house, I mean."

"Because I have a surprise to show you. I'm not alone."

Silence. Then, "Oh no, Buffy, not another man. . ."

Buffy laughed. "Relax, Will. You know this guy. He's tall, very handsome, and just as warped as I am."

Angel shot her an I-heard-that look.

"I know him? Does Xander?"

Buffy could almost hear the wheels turning in Willow's head. "Yep. Mind if we stop by later, say around nine?"

"Oh no - come sooner! I didn't mean anything about the men you bring around, it's just - well, remember the last one? He -"

"I know, I know," Buffy said hastily. "I get it. But Giles' plane hasn't got in yet, and I wanted to wait for him and Marianna to check in."

"Giles and Mari are here too? That's great!" Willow bubbled with happiness. "We'll have a party. We'll all go out together. It'll be just like old times!"

More than you know, Buffy thought. She wasn't sure how Willow and Xander would receive Angel, but she could only hope for the best. Surely after so long. . . "So tonight okay?"

When she cut the connection she turned to find Angel standing behind her.

"So what looser did you bring home last time that freaked her out?" he asked, smiling down at her.

Buffy groaned and shook her head. "Long story. Long humiliating story. Let's just say that she'll be thrilled to see you after that particular guy. Hell, she'd be thrilled to see the Boston strangler after that guy."

"You sure know how to pick 'em," Angel teased, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Hey, I got you, didn't I?"

Buffy had always thought London was beautiful at night. Some quality in the air, some special way the lights drove the darkness away - something set London apart from every other city she'd ever visited.

She wondered now if she had somehow guessed that one day she would walk down the streets beside the person she loved most in all the world. Could it be? Or was that thought just a result of the happiness and joy she felt as she walked at Angel's side through the darkness?

Suddenly she stepped in front of him and threw her arms around his chest.

"What's wrong?" he asked in concern.

"Absolutely nothing," she sighed. "I can't remember when I've ever been so happy. I have everything, everything I've ever wanted - more than I'd ever dare to ask for. I have Willow and Xander and their kids. I have Giles and Marianna. And I have you."

"You have your health. . ."

She tickled him. "Oh you, I'm serious!"

He smiled down at her. "I know how you feel. Believe me. I know." After a moment he added, "It's ten after nine."

"We're late!" she yelped, grabbing his hand and taking off down the street.

When Willow opened the door, she immediately noticed the change in her friend. Her eyes were clear and bright. There were no shadows on her face. And she was smiling as if she had just won the lottery. At that very moment Willow decided that whatever man could make Buffy look like this deserved every goodness the world had to offer, as well as her approval. It had been so long since Buffy had smiled like that. . .

"Hey, how've you been?" Buffy asked cheerfully, moving inside to hug her friend.

"Great. And so have you, apparently," Willow answered, making Buffy laugh lightly. "Where's Giles and Mari? And - your new man?"

"Buffy!" Xander appeared from the living room and swallowed the slayer in a giant hug. "Long time no see!"

"Good to see you too, Xander," Buffy greeted him, wrinkling her nose. "Do you think you're wearing enough cologne?"

He smiled his little-boy smile. "Oz spilled it on me. Awful, isn't it?"

"Where are the others?" Willow asked.

Buffy waved a hand. "Oh, Giles and Mari went to some library. They said they'd see you tomorrow."

"Well, those wild part animals," Xander quipped. "I bet they don't get back to their room 'till well after nine-thirty."

"But Buffy," Willow insisted, playfully slapping Xander, "where's your new boyfriend?"

"He's here," the slayer answered. She stepped back through the doorway and motioned to someone in the shadows. "The one I've always loved."

Angel stepped out of the darkness and into the light spilling forth from the house.

"Hello Willow, Xander," he said quietly.

Willow's face became pale, then suddenly flushed with emotion. "Angel," she murmured. "Of course it's Angel. Of course it's Angel. Oh, I'm so glad it's you, Angel." The last she said louder, and went forward to embrace the vampire with an affection born of relief and gratitude that he had finally returned.

Angel hugged her briefly and quickly released her, his eyes straying to Xander. "It's good to see you, Willow. And you too, Xander."

Xander was hard to read. He smiled easily and stepped forward to shake Angel's hand, but there was something in his eyes that was cold and unforgiving. "How's it goin'," he said, his voice friendly enough.

"Fine, and you?" Angel returned. He noticed how Xander had changed. No longer was he an awkward, gangly young man - he had filled out, looked to be both healthy and in shape. He had also improved his taste in clothing where once he hadn't bothered to match his shirt to his slacks, he now wore an expensive pin-stripped suit. The years had been good to Xander.

They had been kind to Willow as well. The one-time nerd was now a lady of great style and beauty, with her large, honest eyes, beautiful shoulder length red hair, and slim, shapely figure. He had a hard time believing that she had born three children.

"Doing well, thank you," Xander said, drawing Angel's attention back to him.

"Aren't you going to invite us in?" Buffy asked sweetly. "Oh, of course! Come in!" Willow cried, flustered. She motioned Angel into the living room. "Would you like a drink? Sherry, or a glass of port?"

Angel smiled at her. "Please, whatever's easiest for you."

"So where'd you find him?" Xander asked Buffy, shutting the door. He didn't sound very friendly, but Buffy took the question at face value and answered him.

"So it was an accident? He wasn't looking for you?" Xander frowned.

Buffy smiled, thinking she understood his line of thought. "It's a big world, Xander," she said gently. She took his arm as they walked towards the living room. "I looked for him for years, but I wasn't specifically looking for him on that night. It was fate."

"Fate," Xander began darkly, but was interrupted by the shouts of his three children running down the staircase.

Angel watched as three children came dashing down the staircase. There were two boys and a girl, just as Buffy had told him. One of the boys had Xander's dark hair and Willow's fair skin, while the other one was of far darker complexion and had a shock of red hair. The girl, contrary to her two brothers, had long brown hair and a body structure that was like neither her brothers or her parents.

When she turned her glance on him for a moment, Angel saw her large, beautiful hazel eyes, and his heart would have skipped a beat if it was working.

"Aunt Buffy!" the girl cried, rushing forward to throw herself at the woman beside Xander.

"Hey, Buff," Buffy said, scooping her up in a big hug. "How's my girl?"

"I'm good. Is that your new boyfriend?" She gestured at Angel and gave her aunt a skeptical look. "Is he gonna be like the last one?"

Buffy laughed, earning her a surprised look from both Willow and Xander. She hadn't laughed like that in forever. . .

"That's Angel, dearest. And no, he's not like Michael. Angel's going to stay with me forever."

"So, you're the guy they named me after." The youngest, red haired child stood beside Angel and looked at him closely. "You don't look like me," he pronounced finally.

"Not a bit," Angel agreed, turning his eyes from the girl in Buffy's arms to the boy at his knee. "You must be Angel. And your brother over there must be Oz."

"Oh, you're smart," the boy said, rolling his eyes.

Willow was mortified. "Apologize. Now, Alexander Angel Rosenburg-Harris," she commanded. She handed Angel a glass of wine and smiled charmingly, as if she hadn't just scolded her youngest child.

"I'm sorry," the boy muttered. "But, I thought Dad said it was okay to snip at Aunt Buffy's boyfriends because they are such losers -"

"I didn't say that," Xander told Buffy quickly. "I never said that."

"Relax," Buffy laughed. "I have seemed to be a jerk-magnet for a while - but all that's over now." She smiled at Angel, who couldn't resist smiling back. "Now I have Angel again, and everything's going to be fine." She set the young girl down and pushed her gently. "Go see your uncle."

Bravely but with some degree of caution the girl walked over to stand beside her brother. "Hello, Uncle," she said calmly.

"Hello, Buff," Angel said softly. God, she was the very image of his Buffy, from her vivid hazel eyes to her long fingered hands. She looked at him for a moment, then leaned forward and placed a kiss on his nose.

"I knew I'd see you some day, Uncle," she told him. "Why did you wait so long?"

"Because he couldn't find Aunt Buffy." The middle child, Oz, spoke for the first time. He spoke with an odd accent, like his brother, an interesting tone that was half English and half American. Walking up to his sister, he punched her in the arm. "Mom told us he'd find her some day, you moron."

"I hope you enjoyed that," the girls said, turning on her brother, "'cause now I'm gonna beat you up."

"No you're not," both parents said in unison.

"Off to be with all of you," Xander ordered. "I'll be up soon. And for the love of god, brush your teeth!"

"Want to help put the monsters to bed, Buffy?" Willow asked, setting her glass down on a stone end table.

The kids began to moan and protest that they weren't tired, it was too early to go to bed.

"Can I tell them a monster story?" Buffy innocently asked.

Suddenly the children's protests were changed into cried of delight. The two boys ran forward and each caught one of Buffy's hands, and began pulling her up the staircase. Little Buff ran ahead of them, calling back that Aunt Buffy was going to tell the story in *her* room tonight.

Buffy smiled down at Angel and mouthed Back Soon as she was pulled upstairs.

Angel shook his head, smiling. "They seem like great kids, Xander."

"They are," Xander said shortly. He drained his glass, then moved to the bar and refilled it.

A tense silence filled the room, was broken only by the soft instrumental music playing in the background.

"So," Angel said finally, "what do you do these days?"

Xander looked up at the painting hanging above the bar. It was a portrait of the sea at sunset, a beautiful oil on canvas framed in a dark wood. "I work in the financial district," he answered coldly.

Which explained how he could afford such a large, beautiful house in the middle of London, and why he wore a suit. Angel was surprised he'd never guessed that Xander had a talent for business.

"I-" Angel began, only to be cut off by Xander.

"Why did you come back?" Xander demanded, turning to face him. "Couldn't you have left well enough alone?"

"And your mother and I killed the demon and then went to a party at the Bronze."

Oz looked up at Willow. "Did you really help Aunt Buffy kill it?"

"Well. . ." Willow began.

"Yes, she did," Buffy answered. "I never could have done it without her. Now go to sleep before I invite some monster in to eat you." And she tickled the child until he jumped under the bed covers and threw them over his head.

"Good night, Aunt Buffy," he called as Willow shut the door to his room.

"Night, Ozy," she returned.

Willow shut the door and looked at Buffy with tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked quickly.

"I've never heard you so happy," Willow said simply, wiping her eyes with the tips of her fingers.

"Well, get use to it," Buffy said, smiling. "I have everything anyone could ever ask for. No more moaning and groaning for me. All pep, all the time."

"Oh Buffy-" Willow grabbed her friend in a giant hug. "I'm so happy for you."

"Is it my turn for a story now?" the little girl called.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Buffy answered. She pulled away from her friend. "Don't cry, Will. No more tears."

Willow nodded and sniffed. "Okay. Okay." She took a deep breath. "This had better be a short story - it's way past their bedtime."

"Oh, come on, Will," Buffy teased. "I was going to tell her a fairy tale, about a woman who had all she could ever want - a man who loved her, a witch and a businessman who were her friends, a crazy old Englishman for a father, all the chocolate she could eat. . ."

Together they walked into the girl's bedroom.

"I can't believe you're saying this," Angel snarled. "I'd thought you might have grown up in the past twenty years, but I see you haven't."

The two men had been arguing almost from the moment Buffy and Willow went upstairs. Xander had consumed several drinks during the course of the fight, and now seemed close to physically attacking the vampire. Angel, for his part, was nearly ready to attack Xander for both his innuendos and his words.

"Well, someone apparently has to tell you all these things, bud. Apparently you aren't capable of thinking of anything but yourself. Get it through your thick skull - you are the worst thing in this world for her. You put her in constant danger. When you're in her life, she doesn't pay attention to anything else, including and especially her own safety. Is that what you want, her dead? Not to mention the fact that she can't have a decent life with you. No picnics, no sunsets, no lazy afternoons. No going to church on Sunday mornings. No sex. No children. No happiness, dammit."

"Don't you think I know all that stuff?" Angel shouted. "I love her. That's all that matters."

"Is it?" Xander asked softly.

Angel stood glaring at him for a moment, then abruptly turned on his heel. "Tell Buffy I'll meet her back at the hotel. *If* that's all right with you." He let the door slam behind him.

Xander looked at the door. He looked up at the ceiling. Abruptly he threw his wineglass into the fireplace, where it shattered into a hundred pieces.

Angel stormed through the streets of London, paying attention to no one and letting no one stand in his way. He walked and walked until he was miles away from Xander and Willow's house. Finally he halted in a dark alley not far from the hotel.

"Damn you, Xander Harris," he snarled into the darkness.

"He's right, you know."

Angel spun, found Whistler standing behind him casually eating a club sandwich.

"Where have you been?" Angel demanded. "I haven't seen you in over a month."

"Been around," Whistler answered, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Didn't see any point in botherin' with you since you and your girl got back together."

Angel's eyes narrowed. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"It means, Angel, that you're this far away from ruining the world again." Whistler held up his thumb and forefinger, a tiny space between them. "You gotta lose the girl. Sorry."

Angel threw a handful of curses at him and walked away.

"Angel, I know you love her and all, but if you want her to live, you gotta split," Whistler called after him.

Slowly Angel stopped, turned partially back to him. "She's in danger?'

"When isn't she?"" Whistler returned. "But this time, it's serious. Serious like it was with Acathala."

Angel walked back towards him. "And I'm involved?"

Whistler rolled his eyes. "You're always involved, my friend. Always. And even though I never thought I'd say it, that Xander is right."

"She really has grown," Buffy said, walking down the staircase.

Willow nodded. "Yes. Xander and I are both so proud of her. She's doing well in school, she has lots of friends, she's good at physical activities. . ."

Buffy smiled. "How old is she now? Eight, nine?

"She'll be ten in two months."

"Ten! You're kidding."

"No. Which reminds me, she wants you at her party," Willow added.

"Remind me. I'd love to come." Buffy reached the end of the staircase and looked around. "Where's Angel?"

"He left," Xander said, coming around the corner. "He said he'd meet you back at the hotel."

Buffy noticed that Xander wouldn't meet her eyes, and that his hands were shaking. "All right. Well, thank you guys for a lovely evening - sorry it was so short. . ."

"That's okay," Willow said quickly. "We'll do something tomorrow night. Hey, we'll go to that restaurant you like, the one with the glass chandeliers and the live band."

"Good idea," Buffy agreed. "I'll call you tomorrow and we'll set it up."

"Yeah, give us a call and let us know everything's okay," Xander said quietly as he walked Buffy to the door.

"Lighten up, Xander," Buffy laughed. "It's not like anything could go wrong in *that* short space of time - I just jinxed it, didn't I?"

"I don't believe you," Angel said again.

"Fine, do what you want," Whistler returned, pushing the last of the sandwich into his mouth.

"I will." Angel turned and walked towards the hotel.

"Wait, Angel, wait." The short man ran to catch the angered vampire. "How old's Buffy?"

Angel rolled his eyes. "You know how old she is."

"Okay, fine, I do. Why do you think she'd managed to live so long?"

"You tell me," Angel said sarcastically. "You're going to anyway."

Whistler shook his head. "Because you weren't there. Wait, don't walk away, I'm serious here. She's thirty-nine now. I swear to you, if you don't leave her alone fast, she'll never see forty."

Angel looked as if Whistler had just drawn a stake on him. "How do you know?"

"How do I always know?" Whistler returned gently. "I really am sorry for you guys. She's a sweet kid. But if you want her to live, you have to go."

Buffy slipped into the room silently, hoping to surprise him.

Angel was surprised, all right. He dropped his pen and spun away from the writing desk to face her. "Buffy," he said. "I thought - you wouldn't be back until later. . ."

"Miss me?" she teased. She pulled off her shoes and tossed them into a corner. "I'd forgotten that the kids had to go to bed so early. We're all going out tomorrow night for dinner." She pealed off her socks, let them lay where they fell. "I'm gonna take a quick shower -" She fell silent, noticing the odd way he was looking at her. "What's wrong?"

Angel swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Buffy."

She only looked at him, confused. "For what?"

He turned away from her, gazing instead out the window into the night. "You know I love you. More than anything else in my entire life, I've loved you." He drew a deep breath. "But this can't work out. I was a fool to think it ever could. It's not you, I swear it's not you. It's me. I was selfish to think that we could make this work. You have your duty, and I have mine." Softly he added, "And they're not the same. I have to go. Please try to understand and - and forgive me. I want you to live a long time. If I stay, you won't. I have to go."

Silence.

Slowly he turned back to her, prepared for tears or anger or even desperation.

But Buffy was just standing there, looking at him without too much interest. "So you're leaving?" she asked, completely calm.

He nodded, prepared for the worst.

"Okay," she said easily. "Do you need help packing?"

He starred at her in confusion.

She laughed at the expression on his face, but it was an odd laugh. "What, did you expect me to start screaming protests? Bawling like a baby, perhaps? Begging you to stay? I already tried that stuff once, remember? Didn't work then, why should it now? Go if you want to go. I can't stop you."

He looked at her seemingly unconcerned face and was hurt. Did she truly care that little whether he came or went? Or had she known in her heart of hearts that it couldn't work out?

Stepping forward, he caught her calloused, tough hand. "We can still see each other now and then. We can talk. It doesn't have to be like last time."

She smiled stiffly, withdrew her hand. "I don't think so. You see, I don't want to play the ‘just friends' game. That just prolongs things. Better to make a clean break."

"Wait, Buffy, listen," he began.

"No, you listen to me," she snarled, anger finally cracking through her polite facade. "You've done a great job listening to other people for as long as I've known you. Well, now you listen to me. This is our last try. You want to go, fine. Go. But don't think that you're doing it for me, 'cause you're not. Don't think that you're doing this for our love, 'cause you aren't. And don't think that if you walk away I'll ever let you come back, 'cause I won't."

She paused, allowed her words to sink in. "If you go, I don't ever want to know about you again. Don't call. Don't follow me. Don't pop up when I'm least expecting it. If you go now, it's over. Forever."

He looked at her, looked deep into her eyes and saw that she meant what she said. And in her eyes he saw all that she would not do, saw all the tears and pleas waiting there to destroy his resolve.

He had to go, now, or he never would.

"I'm sorry, Beloved," he said softly.

Her shoulders slumped and she looked away from him. "So am I," she answered, defeated.

Slowly he turned and walked to the door, stepped through it, and was gone.

Buffy waited a moment before her resolve crumbled and she ran to the door, his name frozen on her lips. He was gone.

She dropped to the floor, laid her ear to the carpet. She could hear his footsteps passing away, fainter and fainter, until they were gone.

She made it the few feet back into the room before she collapsed once more to the floor. He was gone, gone, gone, and she was again alone.

How could he have done it? Once again she was alone. The empty years stretched out ahead of her, one lonely season connected to the next, day upon day, year upon year. She was alone once more.

His pretty words had meant nothing, all promises now broken, all compliments now lies, all futures now crushed. He hadn't truly meant forever, had never intended to stay for too long.

She should have known better. God, she should have known. And now her heart was broken again, and this time she didn't think she'd make it.

Part Two

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