Author: Gillian
Silverlight
Distribution: My
site, those that already have permission to post my fic, all others please ask.
Disclaimer: They
belong to Joss and the WB, UPN, FX; just about everybody except me. I just play
with them.
Summary: The end
of an era. What I think happened after the Angel Finale, or what I hope
happened.
Rating: R (Violence)
Author’s Notes: Thanks to my two beta’s on this fic. Patti, as always, who I depend on to keep me in line; and Michael who is an excellent writer and did a great re-check for me after I made some changes in this.
Illyria jumped down into the alley, answering Angel previous question about Wesley. “Wesley’s dead. I’m feeling grief for him. I can’t seem to control it. I wish to do more violence.”
“Well, wishes just happen to be horses today… among other things.” Spike told her. He turned to look at the source of the noise that approached them while they stood in the alleyway, in the pouring rain. Down the alley, all that could be seen were demons of various sizes, shapes, disfigurements…
Gunn frowned as he looked at the encroaching horde, “Okay. You take the thirty thousand on the left…”
The dark man was in pain, Illyria could tell. He had been a friend to Wesley and had also meant something special to Fred before the demonic Old One/ God had taken over the young woman’s form. She interrupted Gunn’s attempt at levity with a terse comment. “You’re fading. You’ll last ten minutes at best.” For some reason Illyria wanted him out of the fight.
Gunn refused to take the hint, struggling to lift himself to his feet. “Then let’s make them memorable.”
Spike accepted that the black man would fight with them even though they all knew it meant his death. In fact, Spike wasn’t sure how the man had hung on this long other than from sheer stubbornness… a trait the blonde vampire could appreciate. He turned and looked at Angel. “Any kind of a plan?”
“We fight.” Angel tried to quell the fear that rose inside of him at the pitiful small group they made, standing in the rain while the demonic servants of the Senior Partners advanced on them. They reminded him of a pack of ravening dogs. He didn’t fear dying at this point. He feared the possible consequences of not defeating the Senior Partners.
Spike bit back the sharp retort that he’d normally toss out to lighten the mood and aggravate his grandsire. With the night’s work thus far, the loss of their own, nothing was going to lighten anything. But he did want to know if Angel had some grand scheme he’d not shared with them… yet… to save their hides, do the most damage possible, to make this final stand mean something, “A bit more specific?”
Angel looked slightly upwards where he’d last seen the dragon that accompanied the rest of the demons. It had actually been attractive… in a scaly, evil sort of way. “Well, personally…I kinda wanna slay the dragon. Let’s go to work.” He raised his weapon and swung at the shield of the nearest demon, taking a huge step toward the leading monster as the blade bit deep. A horned and leathery head rolled along the ground immediately afterwards.
The dark-haired vampire felt the others move beside and behind him, bracing themselves for the onslaught when a small hand suddenly grasped his arm in a painful grip. Thinking it was Illyria, Angel turned his head slightly ready to inquire as to what she wanted or needed…but what he saw was Buffy.
“I heard you might have a problem. Wesley called Giles and told him what you’d planned. I brought everyone I could get on short notice.”
Walking down the alleyway toward them was a mass of females almost as large as the herd of demons. More female shapes kept dropping from the ledges of the buildings, swelling the number of defenders. Hovering in mid-air above them, a crackling nimbus of power around her, was Willow. Angel wasn’t sure what to say about Buffy’s sudden appearance or the unexpected help that changed the odds to their favor. He settled for a simple, “Thanks. I think we might need your help.”
On the other side of Angel, Spike stood frozen in shock. He’d glimpsed Buffy in Italy, but this was the first time since Sunnydale that he’d actually seen Buffy. He somehow felt embarrassed that that he’d been brought back from his sacrifice to save the world. When he’d channeled the energy to close the Hellmouth and burned himself to a crisp, it had been their last contact. For once, he didn’t know what to say. He thought he might have a better idea now of how she must have felt when her friends had resurrected her. When she thought her battle was over. Spike finally understood in that moment, that for those like Buffy, and Angel and now himself, the battle against the dark was never truly over.
Buffy took control of the situation by stepping quickly around Angel to press a bruising kiss against Spike’s mouth for several long seconds, her small, strong hands grasping the soaked leather of his duster to pull him closer to her, before she told him, “You get killed this time, I’m having your dust made into a ceramic coffee mug! I’m expecting an explanation from you when we finish this.” Secretly, Buffy thanked Andrew for warning her what to expect when he knew she was heading to L.A., that Spike had been brought back. Even forewarned, she was surprised, but had she not had any warning… She brutally slammed those thoughts down within herself. They had work to do and the demons were getting closer by the moment.
Spike was stunned. “Alright. Whatever it takes, love.”
Seconds before the demons reached them; Robin stepped out of the crowd to hit Gunn in the jaw. The blow knocked him out and Robin lifted the other man as one would a child, to carry him from danger. A makeshift triage was being set up and Robin planned to make sure Gunn was their first patient. Faith had told the former principal about the street-wise but stubborn man. Robin thought this would save time and energy better spent on the fight. Robin stayed with the man as young Watchers and even younger Slayers were treating him. He ruefully recalled Faith’s explicit comments to him regarding being ‘hog-tied’ if he showed his face on the front line this time.
Buffy and Faith had refused to allow the youngest Slayers to join the battle, assigning them instead to handling medical care along with the very mortal Watchers and others, such as Robin, of the force she commanded. She’d listened politely to all of his arguments and protests as to why he should be allowed to fight, sagely nodding her head in agreement and then had sided with Faith, keeping the tall, dark man away from this battle.
That same battle raged around them. The air was filled with screams, moans, grunts and the sound of sharp blades, teeth, claws and bolts of magickal energy ripping, slicing flesh. On both sides.
Faith stood on Angel’s far side, hacking away at the enemy. The ground was slick with blood and much thicker things. Her foot hit one of those unidentifiable lumps and threw her off balance. But before she could hit the ground, an arm wrapped around her, setting her back firmly on her feet. She looked up into Connor’s face. “Thanks, Junior. Some of that stuff might have actually eaten through my jeans.”
“Some of it definitely would have.” He grinned at her as he shifted his grip on the sword he carried.
Angel had heard the exchange, and looked over suddenly to see his son standing beside the dark-haired Slayer, and dropping into a battle stance. “I told you to go home!”
Connor grinned at his father for only a moment before facing the next demon that approached in a lumbering gait. “You did. Why? Did you expect me to start listening to you now?”
Angel swung the ax again, cleaving a dirty, olive-green, hide-covered body from shoulder to mid-torso. The blade stuck momentarily but Angel shoved at the dead demon with his foot, pulling the blade free just in time to catch the next monster across the barrel chest. “Yeah, I did. Thought I made that clear!”
“Probably did. But he’s your son, Angel. He’s not gonna listen to you any more than he’d listen to the rest of us.” Spike countered, ripping his own sword blade upward through the body of some vaguely familiar reptilian demon. He couldn’t remember the name of their dimension… Oh well… dead now, doesn’t matter.
“You’re Connor?” Buffy didn’t wait for a reply from the young man. “Nice to meet you. Don’t get killed. I have questions for you later too.” She turned back to kick the feet out from under the demon facing her before drawing the red-bladed scythe across its throat.
“Wasn’t planning to get killed.” Connor glanced quickly at the woman, curious, “Who are you?” Connor lopped off the arm of his opponent. It clattered when the wickedly curved blade, still clutched in the severed hand, hit the ground. A sound that was almost drowned out by a simultaneous bellow of pain from the beast.
“That’s Buffy,” Angel answered tersely, taking the head off the next demon as he dodged the claws of a second. The blow had been aimed to severe his head from his shoulders.
“Okay. And Buffy is who?” Connor jumped over a demon currently residing on the blade of Faith’s sword, to land on a second one, shoving his own sword straight through the thing’s skull.
“She’s the other Slayer and your dad’s ex-girl-friend.” Faith dodged a deadly swing to come around behind her attacker, her blade catching its heart from the back.
“Oh! Nice to meet you too, then. Sure, talking later is good for me.” Connor dispatched another demon, ignoring the cut in his arm that oozed blood. The rain mixed with it making it look worse than it actually was.
“Yes, we may speak later. Must you all speak now? We have more violence to do! I have not done enough yet to control my grief.” Illyria punched her way through the skull of another beast.
“It’s our way, Blue. Wes…” The vampire swallowed his grief for the man he’d known so briefly, “Wes would’a been talkin’ with us.” Spike tried to reassure the blue-tinted former god.
“If my Wesley would have been talking too, then it must be alright. I shall simply listen however, while I fight.” Two more demons had their skulls aerated during her comment, and another stepped up to the ‘plate’.
“Control her grief?” Buffy asked as she stabbed her weapon into thick hide and flesh. She grunted to give more force to the pull back out.
“Long story, love. Wesley and Fred had a thing.” (Punch) “Illyria took over Fred’s body.” (Stab) “She’s an Old One. Needed a body to call Home.” (Slice) “Guess Fred’s feelin’s for Wes got to her finally.” (Thud…demon head hitting pavement) “He got killed tonight and she’s taking it badly.” Spike skewered the next monster as well.
“Seems pretty calm.” Buffy dodged a levin bolt Willow had miscalculated, then swung at the advancing beast before her.
“No. For her, this is pretty upset.” Angel twisted the head off the demon that had caused him to drop his weapon. Tossing the head to one side, he managed to retrieve the blade.
The battle raged on around them. Conversation and quips continued. Wounds were inflicted and bled. Warriors died.
But as the pink of dawn began to fill the sky and both vampires knew they had to seek shelter from the rising sun, they looked out across a sea of bodies, the horde dispatched by the Senior Partners of Wolfram and Hart, dead or dying. The dragon had taken down the corner of one building when it was finally cut down, its final resting place a welter of shattered concrete and steel. As it turned out, Angel had needed a bit of help to slay it.
Angel thought of several things he might say, but tired as he was, the effort seemed too great. None of the others, standing shoulder to shoulder with him, looked in any better shape. With a collective sigh, they turned away.
~*~
Their wounded had been patched as well as possible ‘in the field’; so to speak, and then taken to the carefully sheltered clinics the new Watcher’s Council had sought out. Gunn had been included in one of those. He’d found it hard to forgive the older man for striking him down before the battle, even though he understood why Robin had done just that. The two men had talked for hours; sharing things they’d rarely told anyone else. They were almost the only two completely human participants now in the battle forces; or two of the very few that were not Watchers or witches, vampires or Slayers, former gods or demons. Like Xander, who had been unable to make this trip to Los Angeles, they were simply human. Well trained with strong fighting skills… but human nonetheless. They both had lost people they’d loved in the ongoing battle of good and evil and it gave them common ground.
Faith’s arm was resting in a new white cast and Buffy’s shoulder had taken fourteen new stitches. Spike had complained the entire time he’d allowed the doctor to dress the rapidly closing hole in his chest. It had missed his heart by inches this time. Buffy had stood by, watching, acting as bodyguard if needed, as the grim faced Watcher doctor had worked on both vampires. He was an older man who believed that that only good vampire had to be a dusty one.
No one had escaped unscathed. Connor’s shoulder had been splinted after the dislocation had been reduced. Willow was still attached to an I.V. after exhausting herself with her magickal assistance. Angel thought the large inclusive dressing over the knife wound in his back was rather excessive. And even Illyria was sporting a dozen new blue stitches that matched her hair, in her scalp. She had threatened to beat the doctor with his own arm when he’d tried to shave off a portion of that same hair to avoid stitching it within the wound, but Faith’s terse comment to the man convinced him that perhaps just this once, it wouldn’t matter too much.
~*~
Finally, the walking-, laying-, sitting- and complaining- wounded sprawled everywhere in the Hyperion. Buffy, Faith, Illyria, Connor and both vampires quickly confiscated the smaller office that Wesley and Angel had so often used.
“We could use a couple of really good vampires fighting on our side now that you are through with Wolfram and Hart.” Buffy told Angel and Spike very pointedly.
“We might not be working there, Buffy, but I doubt they are through with us just yet.” Angel knew they might have won the battle, but the war was far from over.
“So you’re saying you’d rather stay here?” The blonde Slayer wasn’t sure if the thought make her happy or sad.
“No, I think Angel is sayin’ that we’re probably needed here, love.” Spike rubbed at the dressing on his chest again for the dozenth time.
“Leave that alone, Spike.” Buffy snapped at him absently. She’d known he was rubbing it again, feeling him move as she sat on the sofa in the curve of his arm. “We… So you mean you’re planning to stay here with him?”
“Guess I might. Keep him out of trouble and all… ‘Sides, you have your life to lead now. Don’t need me muckin’ it up for you.” Part of Spike wanted her to disagree with his statement, but the rest of him knew it was true.
“You don’t ‘muck up’ my life, Spike. And I’m glad that this Lindsey guy did one thing right in bringing you back. But like I said… cookie dough and all, you know? Now that I know you’re here… Well, I can find my way back to L.A..” She took his hand in hers, partly to stop him from rubbing the dressing again and partly to take away some of the sting of her earlier comments when they’d talked. He still loved her. She still loved him. But she also still had work to do and needed the time without Spike or Angel in her life to simply find herself. So she’d explained to Spike about the cookie dough, but she also knew that knowing Spike was alive, or undead, again; she’d be making frequent visits to Los Angeles to see him.
Angel watched the two blondes as they’d discussed the matter, relaxed and cuddled comfortably together, their intimacy obvious in every word and movement. He knew he’d always love her, but had finally accepted that they’d both moved on. Angel felt he could even handle her relationship with Spike, but suspected she was still moving on, still looking for herself, as she’d explained to him before. He felt an unexpected understanding of how Spike might be feeling and had an even more surprising rush of sympathy for him. Angel knew the blonde vampire had changed with the addition of his soul, even if Spike did continue to irritate the hell out of him most of the time. “I can use his help, Buffy. That’s if he wants to stay…”
“I would like his continued presence. I feel he might be someone I would consider ‘friend’. He allows me to beat him up for exercise.” Illyria commented. She was having feelings. It was strange and unusual for her kind. She wasn’t sure what to do or how to handle it, but knew she wanted those she was familiar with, around her still. Their presence somehow made her feel as though something of Wesley remained with her as well, although she knew that was not logical.
“Gunn’s gonna be out of commission for a while with his injuries, so I feel like I need a bit more help than just Illyria and myself. I think I can keep from killing Spike if he stays… Maybe.” Angel wasn’t about to admit that he wanted his grandchilde to stay, or that he knew Spike might need to feel wanted somewhere, with Buffy still searching for herself.
“I’d rather you not kill him, Angel. If he wants to stay… Well, maybe you can help keep him out of trouble for me. We can add this to our network, making it the Los Angeles branch of the new Watchers Council.” Buffy looked across at Faith, “You and Robin want to stay here and help out?”
“Can’t speak for him, ‘B’, but I’m game. Besides, I kinda like pounding on the kid here, occasionally.” Faith grinned at Connor.
“No.” Angel shook his head. “Connor’s not going to be involved.” Angel wanted to nip that idea immediately.
“I’m thinking differently about that. You really don’t get to make that decision for me, Dad.” Connor tightened his face to keep the smirk he felt from showing. It was one of the first times he’d called the vampire ‘Dad’ and knew the reaction Angel would be having… But for some reason, it was comfortable, felt right to call him that now.
Shock was evident on Angel’s face but he rapidly schooled it to a calmer expression. “Fine. I might not can keep you from trying to help, as you’ve shown me, but I will insist it only be during school breaks!” Secretly, Angel was proud of his son for wanting to be a part of the Good Fight. ‘Maybe I need to see a shrink! Having sympathy for Spike. Accepting Buffy having a relationship with him... Agreeing to let Connor get involved with all this mess… There’s gotta be something wrong with me!’
Spike, Buffy, Faith and Illyria all looked at the young man and nodded in agreement with Angel. “Fine. I can see I got outvoted on this one, for now. Okay. When school’s out, I’m here.”
“That’s settled then. You guys get to be our newest branch of the Watchers’ organization. Are you sure you don’t want me to leave you a few more recruits?” Buffy was glad the association with Wolfram and Hart was over and she could feel as though she could trust them all again. Angel had explained to her as well why they’d been there and what he’d been trying to do. Buffy had to try hard not to laugh. For all his age, Angel could be incredibly childlike with innocence occasionally as to how things actually worked. In many ways, Spike was the older, more mature of the two vampires, understanding how insidious evil could be.
Angel was silent for almost a minute before he answered the small blonde. “No. I think that with Faith and Robin, that’s enough new people to settle in for the moment, Buffy. I think we all need some time to get adjusted to everything that has happened, all the people we’ve lost in such a short time. C-Cordelia….” Buffy heard the note of sadness catch in Angel’s voice. Spike had explained more to her than just his own resurrection. “Fred… Sorry, Illyria.” The former god simply inclined her head slightly.
“Lorne gone after that last assignment… And Wesley. We had our problems, but he was a long way from the man you had known once, Buffy. He was my friend, and I’m going to miss him a great deal.”
“I understand. Faith has explained quite a bit already. But for research, Robin’s a good man. His mother was a Slayer and her Watcher raised him.” Buffy squeezed Spike’s hand, reassuring him. She knew he was a much different man now than when he and his demon had killed Nikki. She thought it might help Spike, as well as Robin, to work together. A slight sigh escaped her lips. The two men together might be like trying to put out fires with gasoline, but she trusted Spike to solve it. It was, after all, a problem he’d created long ago. “Then when you’re ready, I can send some more people your way.”
“It’ll be good, ‘B’.” Faith reassured her sister Slayer. She no longer resented that Buffy was considered The Slayer; she knew that the two of them were the final word in Slayer decisions. Faith felt that if she managed the U.S.A. and its new Slayers and Buffy handled Europe and the new ones there, well, it would be a good distribution of power.
Angel and Connor simply nodded while Illyria looked on. Spike squeezed her hand in agreement. It seemed to be settled.
~*~
There had been only one more very small skirmish during the two weeks it took to organize things in L.A. while waiting for the others to heal. It had been handled quickly and efficiently with no more wounded. Several dead, but all on the side of the bad guys!
Buffy and her entourage were at the private gate, ready to board the Council’s private plane. Everyone could come in here to see them off.
The wounded and healing or healed, were boarded first while Buffy and Willow said their goodbyes to the L.A. branch.
As they watched the plane taxi down to the runway, Gunn turned quietly to Faith, “Do you think she’ll actually come back to check up on things?”
The dark-haired Slayer glanced significantly over at Spike and Angel where they stood watching the plane, and Buffy, disappear into the night. “With the two great loves of her life here? Oh… I think we can count on it.”
Gillian Silverlight 07/22/04