The Wheel
Disclaimers: I don't own them. You did know that, right? Oh, and I borrowed the concept of the ghostroads from The Gatekeeper Trilogy of Buffy books by Christopher Golden and Nancy Holder…but then I sort of adapted them to fit my story… The tarot images and definitions are from the "Ancestral Path Tarot" by Julie Cuccia-Watts, with text by Tracey Hoover. All are used without permission. I think I own everything else, but I could be wrong.
Spoilers: IWRY somewhat. Aside from that, general season 4/season 1.
Content: *Major* character death, angst, and B/A fluff. NutMeg called it "sad fluff." Isn't that an odd combination?
Notes: Another dream inspired fic. Feel free to run and hide now. Special thanks to NutMeg for beta reading this for me! You really helped my confidence with this story.
A note on the format of this story: Since this is a rather long fic, or will be eventually, and the parts are very short, it is divided into sections. Think like a novel that is divided into books and then into chapters. So, "The Wheel" is one story. Don't let the "book" titles confuse you.
Part One
0 The Fool: Beginnings; the heady moment before diving into the future; the state of being untested (inexperienced); the feeling of quivering in anticipation when arriving at the brink of experience; exploring the unknown; risking; taking a leap of faith; stepping onto an untested path, or leaping onto the spiral. Consulting an oracle; paying attention to omens; using divination to clear a tangled path.
Angel’s vision went from utter darkness to blinding light. He flinched instinctively, blinking until his eyes adjusted. He felt cold stone beneath him before his surroundings revealed themselves to his vision.
He was lying on the floor just like he had fallen a moment before. As he looked up the place finally appeared to him. It was both familiar and strange at the same time. It was like the place where he had met the Oracles over half a year ago. The same cold marble, the same shifting light. Yet this place was more vast, leaving Angel feeling much smaller than he was.
A hand touched Angel’s shoulder, and he rolled, trying to stand. The hand did not move, but kept Angel from getting away. “It’s alright,” said the owner of the voice, “nothing will harm you here.”
The hand let up and Angel managed to rise to a sitting position. He was facing an old woman, her face heavily lined but smiling with maternal love. Angel immediately felt at ease.
“There, you see?” she said, pleased. “All is well now.”
It wasn’t until that moment that Angel realized that his wounds were gone. Somehow that didn’t surprise him. The old woman stood and Angel rose as well. “Who? How?” he tried to ask, flustered.
“The time for questions is past,” he said. Then her image wavered and Angel found himself gazing at a young woman bearing a sword and shield. “You have fought valiantly, Warrior,” she proclaimed. “The good in this world will not come to an end in your lifetime.”
Angel opened his mouth to speak and the woman smiled indulgently. “Even in your unnatural lifetime,” she proclaimed.
“So…what happens now?” Angel asked softly.
The woman’s image changed again until she was blindfolded and carrying a set of scales. Justice personified. “You are a creature of balance,” she declared. “Capable of good or evil. As it should be. Now the world is restored to that same balance. It lies out of your hands whether the world will fall to good or evil now. The actions of lower beings will decide that.”
“Then…I have no further duties?” Angel asked, confused.
She returned to the appearance of an old woman. “Peace, Angel, is yours if you want it.”
Was she speaking of death? Final peace? He wasn’t sure he wanted to take that step. “I….”
The woman was now a young child with a wide, innocent gaze. “This is not an ending. It is a beginning,” she said in a childish lilt. “What do you want, Angel?”
Angel was startled by the question. “I’m sorry?”
“What do you want? Tell me, anything at all that you’d want…your earthly reward for your actions on this night and your sacrifices of the past,” the child said.
Angel did not hesitate again. “I want Buffy to have the chance to live. Really live. To get the sort of life that others have and she could never realistically hope for.”
The child blinked at him curiously. “You wish nothing for yourself?”
“That is for myself. All my wishes are for her.”
The child became the young woman again, this time without the weapons. “I never imagined when I brought you to her that you would grow to love her so.”
“I do,” Angel replied. “I love her with my entire being.”
“Would you give up your promised reward – your *life* - so that she could live again?” Justice asked.
“Without hesitation,” Angel replied.
“Would you give of your immortal life that she might have those years she was denied in this life?”
“Yes.”
“Then know this,” the old woman said. “Your sacrifices have been noted. Your soul cannot be taken from you again. Your demon shall no longer plague you or your friends.” She laid her hand on Angel’s shoulder once again. “Thank you. And good luck. Happiness is waiting.”
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