DISCLAIMER: The characters of Buffy, Angel, and the others belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, WB, 20^th Century FOX, and probably some more. 

It was after 3 AM, and Buffy Summers was not in her bed.

It was the morning of her graduation, that right of passage from childhood to adult, but she could care less. In so many ways, she was no longer a child.

She was not dreaming happy graduation dreams like her classmates. She was not even having Slayer induced nightmares about the coming apocalypse. She knew that she would have to fight the Mayor, that she would have to stop the ascension. It was a fight that she could see no way to win, a fight that would probably cost her her life.

But at the moment, it had no meaning to her.

The only meaning in her life lay upon his bed wracked with pain and fever. Dying from the poison seeping through his veins.

Buffy held his hand, and tears she could not stop rolled silently down her cheeks. But she did not care. Nothing mattered anymore.

Nothing but the fact that her lover was dying.

It was very simple, when his body turned to dust, her life would be over.

She had lost him twice before.

The first time she had lost him, she had been in such pain. The only thing that had saved her was hatred. She had hated all those that had taken him from her, the gypsies, for the stupidest condition ever on a curse. Jenny for not telling her the truth. Angelus for wearing Angel’s body when he had killed her lover. And herself. Possibly herself most of all. She had hated herself for destroying him. And there had been no one to forgive her.

The second time there had been no one else to hate. She could only hate herself. But she knew that the world had given her no choice. And she hated the world for its uncaring. She had given up so much, and had gotten so little in return. For three months she had been a member of the walking dead. Until something had rekindled the spark in her. Until she had realized if she could not win against the world than at least she could make sure that others could.

And then he had come back.

Six more months had proven to her that she needed him. He had brought her back. She was not sure if anyone else realized that. But he had. He had taken that spark of life and nursed it with love, until she was herself again.

She had told Willow the truth, when he had told her he was leaving, it felt like she was dying again. But she would have carried on. As long as he was alive, the fire would always burn in her soul. The fire that burned for him. It would have been painful, and it would have been harder than almost anything, but she would have survived.

But now, now was different. When he died. When his soul moved on forever. When his body turned to ash. The flame would be ash also. She would be a body without a soul. And having been that once before, she refused to be it again. She would die first.

And thus her decision. She could not live without him. She would not. And there was only one way to save him, and that was death for her. So she had two choices: die with her love, or die to save her love. And that was no choice at all.

The Slayer heard her Watcher enter the room, she did not look at him, but she spoke to him, "He’s getting worse."

"Buffy…"

"No. I’ve decided. There’s nothing you can do to stop me." The young Slayer turned to look at the man she regarded as her father. "Don’t make your last memory of me be of a fight you cannot win."

"Wait."

"No, he’s running out of time."

"I know. Give me half an hour. I promise, he won’t die before that."

The Slayer frowned in doubt.

"If you ever trusted me, if you ever loved me. Please, half an hour."

Buffy sighed, she had been such a bad Slayer to him, and she did trust him; she would grant him his last wish, "Very well."

Giles ran out of the Mansion, heading for his car. His mind was torn with conflicting thoughts, conflicting urges. He wanted to drag Buffy out of there. He knew what she intended and the thought of losing someone else he loved to Angel was intolerable. But he also knew that he had lost Buffy to the vampire long ago.

He was worried about the fight to come. Without Buffy the almost hopeless battle was going to be hopeless. A true demon would be unleashed upon the earth, and it was quite likely that hell was again coming to town.

A thousand other thoughts and emotions poured through him, but strangely enough, only two were clear.

And both were centered on the same thing, revenge.

Unlike Buffy, he knew what Joyce Summers had asked of Angel. And at the time he had been grateful for it. But now. Now, when his Slayer was dying, he was furious. The stupid woman had ruined her daughter’s life and happiness for the past two weeks. Taking away a few moments of happiness to a child who had had all too few in her life. Giles knew that part of his anger at the woman was anger at himself. He, too, had tried to keep the Slayer and vampire apart. And he, too, had taken away a few moments of precious happiness from his Slayer. In his head he had known that Buffy would not survive long, in his heart he had always believed her to be invincible. And, now at the end of her life, he had so many regrets…

The Watcher’s second clear thought was also on revenge on someone who had stolen time from his precious girl. The stupid Watcher who represented all of the stupid Watcher’s Council. If the council really had information that could have saved Angel, he vowed to himself that he would kill every last one of them. Depending on the outcome of the upcoming confrontation, he just might kill them all, anyway.

But at the moment, he would force Wesley to see the results of his actions, or his inactions. Just as he would force Joyce to.

The end of an age was coming. Buffy’s legacy would be passing to the next Slayer. And no Slayer had ever compared to her, and most likely, no Slayer ever would. She was the best that had ever been, the greatest Slayer. And perhaps the only Slayer that could have won the war.

Giles knew that Buffy would have wanted this moment to be private. But he knew that he needed to bear witness to the end. And he knew that this was his only opportunity to teach the meaning of love and commitment to two people. One who could carry the message to the Council, and perhaps save other young girls’ lives. And one who needed to accept her daughter, even if it was only posthumously.

The Watcher walked back into the Mansion half an hour later, this time dragging his two unwilling victims. Both were clamoring for answers. But he had none to give them.

Joyce finally stopped dead as she realized where exactly she was. She had been in this place once before, and had hoped never to return. "Why are we here?"

"To watch the end of an age."

"I don’t understand."

"You will."

The scene was unchanged when the Watcher returned. Buffy sat on Angel’s bed, holding one of his hands in hers.

The poignancy of the scene was not lost on the three newcomers. And its power stunned them all into silence. They would bear witness to what was going to happen, but they had no power to affect the outcome.

Buffy sensed her audience, but they could not touch her. She was committed, and spectators were less than nothing to her.

The Slayer laid her hand on Angel’s brow, and spoke to him quietly; "It’s time, Angel."

Angel rose out of his fever dreams, brought into the pain of the waking word by his lover’s call. And as he opened confused eyes to her, he tried to smile, knowing what was to come. Knowing how hard it would be for her. "So this is it, huh?"

Buffy’s voice broke on her reply, "Yeah."

Angel started to say something else, but a spasm of pain broke his words into a gasp. Gently Buffy held him, as the tremor shook his body, and she whispered words of comfort to him. Somehow, she knew that this brief time of consciousness, was the eye of the storm, and if he slipped away from her again, he would be gone.

"Angel, where’s my ring?"

For a moment Angel just stared at her, and then he winced as her words brought back the memories. But he kept his gaze on her, as he reached down and pulled out the silver chain that he had worn for the past months.

Buffy had seen the chain before, and she had never wondered about its presence. It was something he had worn before. But now, as she saw what was looped around the chain, she realized she had been very mistaken.

Two claddagh rings hung around her lover’s neck.

Gently she reached out and touched them. "You kept our wedding rings, and you still wanted to leave me?"

Angel just stared at her. He had no strength to protect them from the power of love. All he wanted at this moment was the comfort of her presence. And then his fingers closed on her flesh, convulsing in pain, as another wave of the poison passed through him.

Buffy sighed and realized that everything else would have to be felt. There would be no more time to talk, to forgive. There would only be time to love and to die.

The Slayer carefully removed the silver cross from her neck. The cross that he had given her at the beginning. And she laid it in his hand. Angel was in such pain, that the burn barely registered in his mind. And it was the last thing that he wanted to deal with now. "Buffy? Why?"

But instead of answering she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his, in an intimate gesture that could have no other meanings. Angel wondered at it for a moment, before becoming content to just die in her arms, to believe that she had forgiven him for what he had done to her. To die remembering a love that should never have been, but was stronger than anything he had ever found.

Buffy pulled her hair away from neck, exposing the big artery. And it was at that moment that Angel realized what she was trying to do. This was a seduction, and he had to fight it. Her words came to him, words that would haunt him for the rest of his life, "Take Me." He had no strength, but he would not drink from her. He could not. Because he knew that he would never be able to stop until she was lifeless in his arms.

Angel tried to pull away, even as he pleaded with her, "No."

But Buffy was far stronger and held him to her. The vampire trembled, weakened by pain, caught between love and desire, between a demon and a soul. And in the end, love won.

Love kept the demon in check. Angel could remain still, until he was dead. He would not bite her.

Buffy almost smiled. She had known that this would take everything and more. She reached down and pulled out her secret weapon, a small silver knife.

Angel wondered what she was going to do with it, and then as she raised it to her own neck; he realized what she was about to do. She was going to take away his choices. And Angel knew that he was too weak to stop her, to protect her from herself. He watched in grim fascination as the knife traced a path over her jugular, but no crimson marked her skin. He looked into her eyes quickly, and strangely saw pleading. "Please, I don’t want it to hurt…"

And then the vampire understood. She would kill herself for him. But she preferred to die by his hand. He was skilled; he could indeed make the bite painless.

In the end, Angel knew that he could deny her nothing.

Time slowed as Joyce watched her daughter and Angel. She had thought that their relationship was based on teenage things like lust and infatuation, but now she realized how wrong she was. Because Buffy clearly loved Angel, more than anything or anyone, including herself. Joyce wondered how she could have been so blind.

And then all thought stopped as Angel leaned forward and slipped into his vampiric form. She watched in horror as he sank his fangs into Buffy’s throat.

A part of her wanted to rush forward and rip them apart. But that part was halted as she caught a glimpse of Buffy’s face. Her daughter was not in pain; instead she was in ecstasy. And her eyes held more love than Joyce had ever seen. Perhaps, just perhaps, this was a right thing….

Blood poured from one to the other.

To one lover it was life-giving, an all consuming wave of power and love. It filled Angel and began to heal him. He had never taken lifeblood that had been freely given, and he was stunned by the power inherent in Slayer blood, and the love that was inherent in Buffy. And then he felt something, a piece of her Slayer strength pass into him. A gift, and, perhaps, a final request.

To the other lover, the blood was life taking. But that knowledge did not dim the pleasure for Buffy. She could feel everything, and she knew that neither of them could deny the truth. They were everything to each other. They had felt that way on her seventeenth birthday, and time had only made it more true. Friend, partner, lover, mate, and more. For all time, the bond between them would never be broken.

Angel released her. It was the most amazing thing Giles had ever seen. For a vampire, that in need of blood, and that into the act of feeding, to release its prey before the end. But he supposed that it shouldn’t be surprising. After all, this was Buffy and Angel, and nothing was beyond their combined will.

As the vampire watched the Slayer dying in his arms, he realized there was another choice, another way. He brought his wrist to his own mouth and easily broke the skin, and then he offered his blood to his lover.

But Buffy just gave a weak shake of her head. Her voice was barely a whisper, but everyone in the room heard it. "No. I can love you for what you are. But I cannot become it."

And Angel knew that he could not force her, and so he just held her.

A moment or two later, he felt a shudder go through her, as her heartbeat slowed even more. He looked into her eyes, knowing that these moments were the end.

Her voice came to him again, as weak as a whisper on the wind, "I always knew I would die in your arms." Angel’s eyes widened, but he was afraid to interrupt her. "And it’s what I’ve wanted, ever since I first saw you." Her focus snapped back for a moment as she stared into the eyes of her only love. "I love you, always have, always will. Forever."

At those words, the world seemed to stop, time to freeze. For one agonized moment, it was as if the universe mourned the death of its greatest champion.

With a sigh that took the last breath from her body, "I’m so sorry. Mine is the easy part…"

Giles felt something. She was his Slayer, and had been for two and a half years. And as her soul passed into the next realm, he felt it go. He had felt her die once before. And the second time made it no easier. The pain tore at his insides, but he kept his eyes open, to see the reaction of the others.

Wesley Whyndom-Price was a Watcher, and, albeit for a short time, Buffy had been his Slayer. The Slayer-Watcher link was not fully activated. But Buffy had been a strong Slayer, perhaps the strongest in history. And he felt the departure of her soul. It was not the agony that was visited on Giles, but it was pain, true pain. And as her soul passed him, the Watcher felt it, and that brush of contact opened his eyes, forever.

Joyce had no special powers. She wasn’t a Watcher, she wasn’t a vampire, and she wasn’t a Slayer. But she had carried Buffy for nine months under her heart. And she was in a room with charged with volatile emotions, and supernatural powers. And she too felt the departure of her daughter’s soul. And in that moment she learned what true regret was. Because she learned that she could have accepted her daughter, before it was too late.

Angel had the strongest bond with the Slayer, but, for a moment, he could deny her death. Because, for a moment, her soul lingered around his. Soul to soul, she whispered a goodbye, and then she was gone.

And Angel threw back his head in howled in agony. She was gone, and he would never be again.

The animal sound pierced the ears and souls of the two Watchers and the Mother. And for the first time, they all realized just how strong the bond between the two lovers had been.

And somehow the keen of a heartbroken vampire was the most fitting tribute a Slayer could ever have.

Giles walked into the library just before sunrise. He was unsurprised at the scene before him. Nothing had the power to shock him anymore. His Slayer, his daughter, his Buffy, was dead. Not even the end of the world could touch his grief.

Four Slayerettes were in various stages of researching. Willow was surfing on her computer, desperately searching for information. Oz was looking over her shoulder, giving her advice in a low voice. Xander and Cordelia were continuing with the books that Giles had left with them, the books that gave reference to the demon the Mayor was about to become. And they were staying as far away from each other as they could.

All of the Slayerettes looked up at the entrance of the Watcher. And all were stunned into silence by his appearance.

Giles knew he looked terrible. He knew tears streaked his face. He knew that pain and loss etched new lines on his face. He knew that his anger was barely leashed, and that the part of him that had earned him the name ‘Ripper’ was very close to the surface.

Giles knew all of that and more, but he did not care. The fight was out of his hands. There was no plan that would save the day. No information that could be found to defeat the Mayor. Because there was no Slayer to kill him.

Willow quietly broke the silence, treading where the others did not dare to go. "Is, is, Angel…"

The Watcher just regarded the young witch. And her voice trailed off; she could not bare the pain in his gaze.

Four Slayerettes transferred their gazes from Giles to something behind him. Although the Watcher had heard no sound, and felt no presence, he knew what stood behind him. And he turned to look at the one person that had loved his Slayer more than he had.

Angel could have been carved from marble. No expression marred his perfect features. No sign of pain flickered in his eyes. His eyes were as dead as he was. Dressed in solid black, and Giles had the feeling he would never again wear another color, he seemed to be what his name implied, an avenging angel. And maybe he was.

No flicker of recognition or greeting passed over the vampire. For all that he seemed to notice his audience, the library might have been empty. With predatory grace, Angel walked to the center of the room and set something on the library table. Whatever it was it was wrapped in rags that hid its shape. It was large however, easily three feet long and a foot wide. Angel held it easily, but with vampiric strength it could have weighed one pound, or a few hundred. Task accomplished, Angel stood, looking at whatever it was, and waited.

The mortals watched the immortal for minutes, and during that time not a flicker of movement stirred him.

Slowly the reality of the vampire’s presence sank into the group. Willow was the first to return to conscious thought. She looked at the clock and gasped, it was only half an hour until sunrise, and she could not understand why Angel was standing in the center of the library, underneath the skylight. Angel was not suicidal. Not unless…

Xander also began to think. And unlike the others, he realized at once what Angel’s presence meant. Angel was alive. Angel had been dying. The only cure for him had been the lifeblood of a Slayer. Faith was dead. His thoughts led to the inescapable conclusion.

Buffy was dead.

And that thought was unbearable. He launched himself at the thing that had stolen his first love. His voice was rough with pain and grief, as he shouted, "You killed her!"

Xander never stood a chance, even as he moved the vampire pivoted in place and looked at him with dead eyes. Faster than the blink of an eye, the mortal felt the impact of the wall with his back. The blow stunned him almost into unconsciousness.

Xander had fought Angelus before, but he had never gone down so easily. The vampire’s strength had always been controlled. Stronger than the boy’s, but only just, as if the demon had taunted him. Now Angel seemed not to care about the consequences of his actions, and perhaps he did not.

The Slayerettes looked from the slumping form of the boy and returned their attention to the vampire. Angel had regained his former position and continued his motionless vigil.

It was Willow who broke the silence, "Giles, what do we do?"

Giles swallowed and then glanced at Angel. But Angel gave no flicker of recognition. And so Giles fumbled for an answer. "You go home. Either you get ready for your graduation, or you get as far away from this place before noon as you can."

The Slayerettes looked at each other. Oz chose to speak for the group, "What about the Ascension, the end of the world?"

"There is nothing you can do. The fight is not in your hands."

"Whose hands is it in?"

But Giles gave no response; instead he walked into his office and closed his door. He had less then five hours to mourn his Slayer. And he did not want to waste them. The children would do as they wished. They always had before.

The Slayerettes looked at each other once more, before heading for the doors as one unit.

In the center of the library, a vampire continued his vigil.

And the world continued to turn. The hour crept towards dawn. And from dawn it would creep towards Armageddon.

The Slayerettes walked back into the library promptly at 11:30. Line up for the graduation march in would be at 11:45. And the ceremony would start at 12:00. All were dressed in their graduation robes.

Giles looked at the teenagers. He was saddened that they would be present for the battle, their lives would be in grave danger, but he was unsurprised.

Xander walked in the door first. He stopped dead when he saw the scene awaiting him. Willow and Oz were walking arm in arm, exchanging whispers of comfort before the last battle. They both ran into Xander before they looked up to see what had caused his reaction. And when they saw what the library held, they too stared.

Cordelia brought up the rear of the group. She took one look at her stunned comrades and then shrugged and sat down in a library chair and began examining her nails.

The other three Slayerettes could not take their eyes off the figure in the center of the library. Because Angel stood in the same spot he had stood hours before. He stood there staring at the object on the library table, and as far as the mortals could tell, he had not moved a single muscle. But what shocked the Slayerettes was the bright sunlight pouring through the room.

Angel was a vampire.

Angel stood in the noontime sun.

For the first time since Buffy died, something close to hope was felt by the group.

Ten minutes later, Giles had finished handing out weapons to the Slayerettes. He knew, and they knew, that they could not face the Mayor. But everyone was sure that the Mayor would have minions. And they would be responsible for their schoolmates’ lives.

Willow finally noticed something that she should have seen immediately, but she had been too distracted. She knew that Xander would never have noticed, he was too busy avoiding looking at Angel, and he was too blinded by hatred. She knew that Oz simply didn’t have the background to grasp the significance of what caught her eye. And Cordelia, well Cordelia probably didn’t care.

But Willow cared. Because around Angel’s neck a silver chain was clearly visible. Willow knew many of Angel’s secrets, secrets that had been passed on from Buffy. And she knew that he had worn a sword necklace in a time before. But this chain held two rings. And unless she was mistaken, they were the two claddagh rings that had symbolized Buffy and Angel’s love. She wondered why Angel had both, when she was sure that one should be with Buffy.

Before she could point out the anomaly to the group, Giles spoke up. For the first time he addressed Angel. "It is time, Angelus."

Without acknowledging the remark, the vampire reached down and pulled something free from its concealment.

Angel held a sword.

The four teenagers all recognized that sword. And they all recognized its significance.

A year ago that sword had been all that kept a demon from sucking the world into hell. Until a vampire had pulled the sword out, and opened the vortex to hell. And until a Slayer had stopped that same vortex with that sword’s mate.

The Slayerettes knew the full story now. A summer without Buffy had given them plenty of time to research the topic. Over two thousand years ago a powerful vampire had summoned Acathla to destroy the world. A good demon had appeared to a virtuous warrior and given him two swords that could destroy the demon. Acathla came forth, and opened a portal between hell and earth. But before the portal was finished the warrior had pierced its heart with a sword, trapping it in stone. The vortex had failed, unable to exist without its demonic creator. But the fabric of the world had bent, and the first (and most powerful) Hellmouth had been created. Those who had fought the evil did what they could. Imprisoning the demon in stone engraved with dire warnings, and moving it (and the new Hellmouth) far away, to a place where the sun shined, and evil did not come. To a place that would one day be known as Sunnydale, California… The warrior had taken the other sword and passed it down to his children. The line became a type of Guardian, chosen by blood to wield the holy sword, to defend the world against certain types of demons. But like much history, the family lost its knowledge of its purpose, and the power that was inherent in the bloodline, was lost to time.

Angel was the last of that blood.

And in his hand he held a sword that had spent millennia between the earth and hell.

Buffy was dead. He did not care how many died to take out the one responsible for her death.

Angel turned and walked out of the library, and into the sunlight.

A crowd of parents sat in the seats behind the empty chairs of the graduates. The ceremony was minutes from starting, and most were chatting amiably with each other. A few were busy video taping everything, and a few were just bored.

Amongst the crowd, two stood out. Two whose faces were engraved with pain. Wesley and Joyce sat next to each other. Neither had anything to say to the other, but they felt more comfortable with someone who understood pain.

Both understood something. They had seen the beginning of the end. They had seen the passing of the Slayer. Now they would bear witness to the end. They would see if the one she had passed her legacy onto was capable of bearing its weight.

They had watched as one age ended. Now they would watch to see the shape of the age to come.

The ceremony was taking place in the courtyard of Sunnydale High. The podium was placed against one wall of the school, and the chairs for the graduates and the audience were divided into two columns, stretching away from the school.

As the first strands of the traditional, Pomp and Circumstance began to fill the air, a Watcher crept into his seat, sitting next to the only two people in the audience who had a clue what was about to transpire.

Through the opening pleasantries, the three managed to talk a little. There were still hard feelings, and they made it difficult to talk. But there were also things that needed to be said.

The Watcher was almost hesitant as he said quietly, "I've spoken with the council."

The former Watcher asked, "Yes?"

"I've defended your methods and your Slayer."

"And?"

"I don't know. But I told them what I thought."

"And that was?"

"That they should send the next Slayer to you."

The players were all in place as Snyder introduced the commencement speaker.

The Mayor stood up, and stepped to the podium.

He gazed out at the crowd that would be his first meal. After the transformation he would need all the lives he could get. These were his prey.

His eyes swept the parents, and he easily picked out the two Watchers.

He found the so-called Slayerettes, and he saw their pain. A shadow crossed his face, he too felt pain, and he was glad that they felt a measure of his own grief.

His quick search of the crowd denied him the sight of the one being he was looking for. The cause of his pain. But he also knew that the other had suffered as much as he. And the other was not as strong, had tried to take the easy way out before. It was possible that he was going to be denied his revenge.

But nothing would deny his triumph.

As the commencement speech began, others tensed. Among the human students there were a few that were touched by the mystical, a few who knew in their hearts what had gone on in Sunnydale for so long. And they could feel something approaching.

The former demon Anya watched the Mayor with fascination. The look of a rabbit staring at the fox, wondering when he was going to pounce. She had been going to leave, she really had. And then she had felt the world shudder. She had not known why, but she had sensed things change. And she had a premonition, she might die in the conflict to come, but if she survived she would be more than human again. And she would rather die than live out the rest of her life as a pitiful human. Anyanka knew in her heart that Hell was coming to earth.

Harmony had spent most of the last two years sniping at Buffy. A part of her had recognized something in the other girl. Something that she had not had, would never have. Now she sensed the evil in the air, and she desperately searched the crowd for the blonde haired girl who was the savior of Sunnydale. Even if she didn’t know what she was looking for, a feeling of dread stole across her heart as she realized that Buffy was nowhere in the crowd. Suddenly she felt very alone. And very scared.

Scott Hope had watched Buffy for the better part of two years. She had been so different from other girls. A piece of her had never been in the world, at least in the world he and his friends had lived in. But she had been so alive. At times she had practically glowed, she had sparkled in a way that no one else ever would. At the start of the year he had put his courage together and asked her out. She had been so down, so lost; he had wanted her to sparkle. But after awhile he had figured the truth out, he could never understand that other part of her, the part that was different, and she would never sparkle for him. And so he had given her up. He knew he had done it badly, but the truth had hurt him. Now, as was his custom, he looked around. Scott was curious to see if she would be sparkling now. Strangely, he could not find her in the crowd. He felt a cold chill seep into his bones, even though the sun was shinning. He had the feeling he would be learning truths today, truths he did not want to learn. At that moment, Scott had no hope.

The Mayor halted in mid-word. Surprise flickered across his features as he stared down the center aisle.

All eyes turned in puzzlement to see what had stopped the speaker. And only a few understood the significance of the sword wielding man who stood at the back of the crowd.

The Mayor spoke softly, but the microphone in the podium carried his words to the crowd, "So…"

The vampire's voice was also clearly heard as he returned the greeting, "So…"

"I did not expect to see you, Angelus."

"We have unfinished business."

For the first time anger crossed the face of the politician, "My Slayer is dead because of you."

Angel only smiled, "And my Slayer is dead because of you."

The Mayor didn’t try to deny the accusation. He knew the truth. But his pain, and strangely enough his love showed through, "She was my daughter."

Anger flashed in Angel’s eyes, "She was my wife."

Startled gasps arose from places in the crowd. Somehow, most of the people, at least most of the students, knew who he was talking about. Buffy. But not one of them understood. Even those who had known of Angel, and known of the love between the vampire and the Slayer, never guessed that Angel would try to claim such a thing. But strangely, not one of them could deny the claim. After all, it was the truth.

"She was nothing like my Faith. She was like all the rest. Mine was the special one."

Angel laughed at the Mayor’s vehemence, but the sound had a brittle edge. "Demons don’t love."

The Mayor suddenly laughed, as the irony of the words passing between the two finally penetrated his mind. "So it comes down to us."

"So it seems."

"What hope do you have, Angelus? You know what I am. You know what I can do."

Angel only smiled and raised his sword.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he ran the blade along his free hand.

As his blood seeped onto the blade, the sword began to glow.

The Mayor's smile faded, as the first tendril of doubt crept through his heart. He shouted, "Get him."

From hiding places around the perimeter of the ceremony demons of all shapes and powers rose out of hiding.

The crowd panicked.

And chaos broke loose.

The first pack of assorted demons attacked Angel directly. Not a flicker of expression crossed the vampire's face as he began to kill. And his attention never waved from the Mayor still standing on the podium, waiting for the appointed moment.

The demons with augmented strength attracted directly. Not a one was a match for a Master caliber vampire who had just fed on the lifeblood of the most powerful Slayer ever to live.

Some had magic, blasts of cold, swirls of flame, beams of light, and other magical tricks lashed at the vampire. But not a single one slowed him down.

And the demons continued to die.

The Mayor watched in stunned amazement as demons began to fall under the relentless approach of the vampire. The glowing sword cut a path through demon flesh, leaving only the dead and dying in his path.

He was unsure if he had ever seen a vampire move with the strength and speed that Angel displayed. Angelus had been a Master Vampire, but now he proved that the Slayer's blood had given him even more.

With a wave of his hands and a few shouted commands, the demons began a new strategy.

The demons began to grab innocents. Teenagers became hostages, blocking Angel's path to his target.

And Angel could care less.

The parents, the audience to the day’s festivities, began to run. Unlike their children, very few had any idea of danger that existed in Sunnydale.

Their path was blocked by the demons that had sprung up behind them. They had been a part of the Mayor’s plan. After his ascension he had wanted a food supply. These demons were meant to keep the crowd in place.

Willow watched in horror as a tentacled demon headed in her direction. For a moment she panicked, and then she pulled out a blade. She was a Witch, but she could think of no spells to help her. This was going to be a knockdown drag out fight. The kind that was meant for Slayers. Not mortals.

Unfortunately, the Slayers were dead.

Instinctively Oz moved to guard her back. She had a metal blade in her right hand, and a wooden stake in her left. She knew enough lore to know that piercing the heart would at least slow most of them down.

And so the pair of lovers moved in front of their schoolmates, trying desperately to stay alive, and ward their friends at the same time.

Xander was having a slightly easier time. He had opened his mind completely to the being he had been on a previous Halloween. He had no idea if it was a safe thing to do, but it was the only thing he could do to continue living.

His alter ego had armed and un-armed combat. As he moved to attack the demons he only wished he had an automatic weapon.

And then he heard a scream. A single scream that somehow pierced the chaotic noise that surrounded him.

Cordelia.

He turned and saw her fighting a losing battle, against three horned chaos demons. He began to make his way in her direction.

The students were scattering in chaos. Trying to escape the myriad of battles that surrounded them. There were so many ways to die, and none of them wanted to die.

A group of humans staggered between Angel and his foes.

The vampire hardly blinked. And his blade began to cut into mortal flesh as well as demonic.

The Mayor watched in horror as the vampire’s approach continued. He would not have believed it without seeing it. But Angel, the cursed vampire, Buffy’s lover, was killing humans with as much disregard as he was killing demons.

For a moment the Angel’s eyes met the Mayor’s. And in that moment Willkins shuddered. He would never forget the look in those eyes. The promise in those eyes.

Closing his eyes and summoning calm, the politician began to chant in Latin.

And the vampire continued to kill.

The Mayor’s spell completed with a dull roar. It was targeted at Angel, and it preformed flawlessly. Angel’s demon ripped to the surface, taking dominance over his features.

Unfortunately for the Mayor, Angelus and Angel were united in their cause. They would destroy the human who had dared to destroy their Slayer.

The vampire continued his approach.

The spell had an area affect, and those humans who were in some way possessed or cursed, had their demonic forms come to light.

Some were happy.

Anyanka gasped with delight, as her hands moved to her throat. Her necklace was back. For a moment she looked around at the chaos, and then she vanished, taking up her duties again. The power of The Wish had been returned to her, and she had men to hurt.

Some were not.

Oz growled low in his throat as he began to change.

Willow looked at him helplessly, and his last words were, "Stop me."

Cordelia fought with everything in her. She had no idea why she had stayed. She had gone home in the morning planning on leaving Sunnydale, planning on putting as much distance between herself and ground zero as she could. And yet, she was here now. And she was not quite sure how it had happened.

She was loosing. She knew that.

The chaos demons shook off everything she did to them. She simply did not have the strength to fight them.

But she had never let anything stop her.

And she would not now.

Angel entered the last group of demons. The one that held hostages. Angel had already killed humans.

He did not let these innocents stay him.

One human looked up from the monster that held him, and looked at his oncoming fate. Scott saw the vampire’s approach and he felt the brush of fate. This was the price for trying to understand Buffy’s world, that world had finally caught up to him. And in the moment before his death, the mortal boy understood everything. For a moment he had dared to stand in the path of true love, and he had survived. He now stood in the path of true revenge. He would not survive a second time.

Angel never blinked as his sword decapitated both the mortal Scott and the immortal demon that had attempted to use him as a shield. In fact, the vampire never even realized just whom he had killed.

The blood of mortals continued to flow onto his glowing blade. And with each life he took, the glow became brighter.

Willow looked at the Oz-beast in despair. She had tried everything to get away from him. But his senses were locked on her. She wondered if it was because of the things they had shared.

But it did not matter why; it mattered that it was happening. She was being stalked.

If she could not find a way to stop him, she would either be dead, or a werewolf.

But she had studied the breed, and she knew that even if she surrendered, allowed herself to be bit, and survived the experience, Oz would go on to murder her classmates. And she could not let that happen.

Willow had to stop him here and now.

But her dart gun was in the library.

She had tried to use her magic, but Oz was unimpressed by floating pencils. And then her fear had taken over. Without emotional control, she could not do even the simplest of tricks.

Willow raised a stake feebly as Oz prepared to spring. Briefly, through the nausea of fear and indecision and pain, she had time to wonder, Is this what Buffy went through…

And then the spring, Oz was on her for a moment, and then he was falling.

For a moment her mind blanked, as the wolf lay on the ground. She could not understand.

And then she saw the stake embedded in his chest, and she could not believe.

And then she breathed a sigh of relief. Wood, it was a wooden stake. Wood could not kill a werewolf.

And then Oz’s body shivered, and he returned to human.

Human, with a stake through his heart.

Willow’s world shattered.

Giles wielded his sword with skill. He had always been one of the better members of the council with weapons. And his time with Buffy had only honed his skills. Joyce had managed to calm the crowd enough that they did not get in his way.

And the former Watcher had proceeded to cut the demons up. There had been only six of them after all.

He poured all of his rage, pain, and guilt into the killing. It was another trick he had learned from her. And it worked.

He not been close enough to stop his fellow Watcher from being gutted, but he had been close enough to avenge his death. And he had been close enough to here Wesley’s final words, "Save the next…"

The last demon fell before his blade.

As Giles caught his breath he was glad that these had all been weak creatures, they had only supernatural strength. The stronger creatures, the ones with special powers, had been busy with Angel. He wished them all unpleasant deaths.

As the last demon fell, Joyce sent the huddled mass of parents away from what was to come.

And Giles turned to regard the Mayor, and he knew that what was to come was going to be happening very shortly.

As Angel turned from his latest killing, he saw that the path to the Mayor was at last open. He saw the first ripple of pain pass through the human, the pain that heralded the transformation.

But Angel was also aware of what else was going on. Most of the demons had been stopped, killed, incapacitated, or driven off. He knew that Oz was dead, Willow curled into a ball over her fallen lover. Giles and Joyce had cleared a path for the rest of the humans to find freedom, and most of them were taking it.

The last group of flunkies had Xander and Cordelia in their clutches. Both of the pair seemed to be unarmed. But they had obviously done enough damage that the demons were only paying attention to them, not to what Angel was doing.

Which was fine with the vampire.

He turned and continued on his way to the Mayor.

Xander watched helplessly, even as he struggled with the hands that held him. Pain screamed at him from ever part of his body. He knew that he had broken bones. And if the sharp pain in his chest was what he thought it was, he had managed to puncture a lung. Each breath hurt him.

Cordelia was kneeling on the ground, forced into that position by the third demon. She too was worse for the wear. Blood trickled from gashes, and her face was already swelling from severe bruising.

She was about to be killed. He was going to watch her die. The pains of his body vanished before the pain of that thought.

And then Cordelia looked up at him. He looked into her eyes as she removed the masks.

And he saw the truth. She had loved him. Once. But not anymore. Now, she might like him, she might be attracted to him, but she could never trust him enough to love him.

And that hurt.

Xander thought about his life. About the things he had done. The things he had done to those he claimed as friends, to those he claimed to love. He thought of the things he had done to Willow, the friend who had stood at his side all of his life. He thought of Buffy, the first girl he had fallen in love with. And he thought of Cordelia, whom he might have truly loved.

Perhaps he did not deserve trust.

Perhaps he did not deserve love.

Xander managed a smile, and one wry thought, Just as I die…

As the demon’s hands slipped to Cordelia’s face, preparation for breaking her neck, a glowing sword appeared out of nowhere. And then the demon’s body collapsed to the ground, as that sword decapitated him.

Xander stared at Angel in surprised, even as the vampire’s sword swung at him. Although it missed him by less than an inch, Xander lived and the demons died.

Angel’s face was expressionless as he looked at Xander’s wide eyes and said, "Now we’re even."

And then the vampire turned and walked back toward the Mayor.

Xander’s gaze followed him, and even as he realized that the Mayor’s body was changing, that the nightmare was happening, a piece of him was trying to understand Angel’s final words. And then it hit him. He had saved Buffy once when Angel could not. And Angel had just saved Cordelia when he could not.

Xander reached out to Cordelia, and one last time she came into his arms.

Cordelia was safe in his arms.

The demons were dead.

But his heart was still broken.

Angel turned from the two humans he had saved and realized that he had lost too much time.

The Mayor roared as his form changed.

Legs stabbed downward as his face lifted towards the sky.

In less than a minute a monstrous demon stared down at the vampire.

Angel looked up impassively. The creature looked like a giant version of the mini-spiders that had been in the box. But Angel cared nothing for the demon’s looks.

The Mayor thought he had won. "Too late, Angelus."

Angel only smiled and with a savage thrust buried his sword in the ground.

The Mayor drew back for a moment, trying to understand the significance of the vampire’s gesture.

And then a crack in the ground appeared.

The earth shook as Angel’s power opened a chasm, starting at the buried sword, it headed towards the Mayor and then into the school.

The crack was much too small to harm the Mayor, and he was puzzled by the smile that was growing on the vampire’s face.

Angel waited.

For a moment the Mayor waited also. He wanted to understand. And then he did not care enough, he moved to attack the vampire.

But Angel's smile only widened. He had heard something.

Something in that smile warned the demon.

It twisted its new form to look back at Sunnydale High.

It watched as the building began to break apart.

A swirling vortex was growing from the center of the school, consuming everything in its path.

The bright sunlight over Sunnydale darkened as clouds raced across the sky, swirling around the school.

Wind began to sway the trees surrounding the school. Wind whipped dirt and debris into the flesh of the remaining spectators. Most of those remaining ducked for cover, but most realized that it was a futile gesture. One way or another, the end was coming.

Most of the Mayor’s bulk was in the direct path of the vortex, and the demon tried desperately to escape, but it was not mobile enough.

The demon shrieked as the vortex touched him.

It fought. Fought to stay. Fought to remain on the mortal plane. But at the moment the Hellmouth was a vortex. The Mayor was the first living creature sucked into Hell.

And the only being still standing in the open laughed as he gained the only thing he still desired, revenge.

Joyce looked at Giles for reassurance, but he had none to give her. The wind was continuing to grow, sweeping things into the vortex.

The sky above darkened, and lightning began to rain down upon the humans standing on the edge of the gates of hell. Trees splintered and were blown apart by the glowing bolts, but the Watcher stared at the portal. The lightning was not the greatest danger.

Giles could see dark, shadowy shapes beginning to exit the vortex. He knew that only ‘tainted demons’ as Anya had called them, could escape at the moment. But if Angel could not stop Hellmouth, the Old Ones would be returning, and soon. The fate of the world rested on a vampire who had just opened the Gates of Hell.

The Watcher wondered if Angel, having secured his revenge, was now willing to destroy the world. To create the ultimate funeral pyre for his lover.

He hoped not.

Angel did indeed believe that the world was a small price to pay for avenging her death. But she had had given him something with her lifeblood. He was partially a Slayer now. And that duty stung him.

He turned his will, his blood, and his new Slayer powers to the sword. The sword was the key.

The vortex shimmered for a moment and then began to shrink.

It took all of the vampire’s strength and more. And as he fought with a gate to Hell, he thought he felt something. It was if another pair of hands held the sword along with him. And he knew whose help he had.

Their combined strength was enough to close the gate.

As the vortex vanished, nothing was left.

Just a gaping hole in the ground.

Angel pulled the sword out of the ground. It was no longer glowing; it had served his purpose. From where he stood he could see the ruins of the church that had held the Master prisoner for so long. He could see the pool that Buffy had died in. Various entrances to the Sunnydale underground were open to the air and the light of day.

Sunnydale High no longer existed.

Behind him a few brave members of the class of ’99 had gathered. At the edge of the wreckage. Flames were still burning on downed trees; the surrounding ground was torn up. It looked like a war had been fought. And, in a sense, one had been.

The surviving Slayerettes peered over the edge and wondered at the cost, they had their revenge, but the shape of the world had changed.

And not a single one could answer the question, was this new world a better or a worse place?

Angel slowly sank to his knees.

His strength was gone.

He did not regret what he had done, but now it was over.

Her had avenged her.

But that would not bring her back.

Nothing would ever fill the hole in his life.

Joyce Summers stood beside a fresh grave. The priest was nearing the end of his part of the rite, but in truth, the mother of the Slayer had not heard a single word.

Around them gathered the remains of the Slayerettes. And around the inner circle the remainder of the class of ’99 listened.

Joyce had lost her baby girl. Her beautiful daughter. Her beautiful, strong, Slayer daughter. And she was going to be saying the eulogy of that same daughter. She wasn’t sure if she should be. Their were others closer, others who understood Buffy better. But those people, couldn’t, they were too broken in spirit. Automatically her eyes sought out her daughter’s lover.

The vampire with a soul stood in the sunlight, staring at the grave of his soulmate. And even Joyce knew that nothing she had ever felt compared to the anguish Angel was experiencing. And strangely, for the first time since Angel had told her what he had happened between him and Buffy, Joyce did not hate him.

As the priest’s voice came to a halt, Joyce looked at the paper in her hands. She could not speak for her daughter, because she hadn’t known her daughter well enough. When Giles had dragged her to the Mansion, she had learned that fact. But Buffy could speak for herself. She had known she was going to die, she had practically suicided. And so Joyce began to read from her daughter’s last words.

Joyce stopped reading. And all eyes had turned to the weeping vampire. A vampire so lost in pain and memories, that he never even felt the mortals’ attention. All he could hear was Joyce’s voice speaking Buffy’s words. Buffy’s final words. And then Joyce said in her own words, "My daughter’s final request was that this song be played now, and that her lover take some comfort in it."

At the word lover, Angel’s eyes snapped up to Joyce, but there was no condemnation in her.

As the song ended, everyone in the crowd, everyone who had been touched in some small way by Buffy’s light, thought that they heard something. Some heard only a sigh in the wind, others heard more. But Angel, Buffy’s true soulmate, heard her voice. I love you. I’ll be watching over you…

Angel knelt at Buffy’s grave, as the mourners filed past, giving their last respects. At one side, Giles stood, almost protectively over him. At his other, Willow was sobbing. She had lost her best friend and killed her lover. She was, perhaps, the only one who felt as much pain as he did. And yet, there was no comfort he could give her. And no comfort he could receive from her.

Some of Buffy’s classmates stopped to say something to him, but in the future, Angel would never be able to remember their words of comfort.

At last the crowds began to break up. There were other deaths to grieve. Other bodies to be buried. Eventually, only the remaining Slayerettes stayed at her grave. None knew what to say, and none would have been able to listen, anyway.

Hours later, Angel still knelt at her grave. He could not summon the energy to leave her.

She had placed her trust in him. And he had betrayed it. How many of those under his protection had he failed to save, or killed himself? He had destroyed the Mayor, but at what price? He had stopped one demon, but had unleashed countless others.

He did not deserve her.

He withdrew a twisted stake from his pocket. Gift from a Slayer to Buffy, for luck in killing his demon, it would be a fitting end for him.

And then he thought he heard something. We all fail. I failed to kill you for too long, and innocents died. Yet we must go on…

His voice came in a whisper of disbelief, even as he lowered the stake, "Buffy…"

Joyce Summers stood next to her daughter’s grave. It had been a year since they buried her. A year filled with pain, but also with learning and growing. So much pain had happened in a year.

At first she had withdrawn from everyone and everything. But then, in a single moment of clarity, she had seen what was happening. Angel and Willow were dying. Slowly, from pain and guilt. Willow had put a stake into her lover’s heart six hours after finding out that her best friend had sacrificed herself so that a vampire could live. And Angel… Well there were no words for what Angel had done.

Both knew without a doubt that they had done the right thing. Both knew that their lovers would have wanted what had happened to happen. But that couldn’t touch their guilt.

And so Joyce had stepped in. Giles had been in no condition to deal with the two; after all he had a new Slayer and his own emotions to deal with. But Joyce decided that if she couldn’t save her daughter she would save the two who had been closest to Buffy.

She had labored at it long and hard. Giving them an outlet for their feelings. Making them angry when they were sunk into too much depression. Finding work for them when they were strong enough to handle it. Bringing them together to talk about the past. Sending them out to help the new Slayer, by using motherly guilt trips. And eventually it had worked. She doubted that they would ever truly recover from their losses. But at least they were living again. At least Willow was. Angel was another story. Joyce thought she had gotten through to him, but she was well aware that he was very good at hiding his true feelings.

And in healing them, she had healed herself. At least as much as she thought she would heal. And that gave her the ability to help more.

Giles had been her third project. Joyce gave him someone to talk about Buffy with. Someone to intervene when he started to push the new Slayer too hard. And someone to warn him when he was asking her to be Buffy, because whatever else Sharon was, she wasn’t Buffy. But she was an incredible Slayer. In an odd way, Joyce had gotten a second daughter, because she and Giles were the only ones who knew how to parent a Slayer.

As for the others, well they had not been unhurt. But Joyce had been unable to help them.

Cordelia was gone. She had left for Los Angeles, and wrote occasionally to Willow, but that was all the contact she would have with the old gang.

Xander had eventually recovered from his physical wounds. But the pain of having Cordelia leave for good, after he had admitted everything that he truly felt, was too hard. He had left to go searching. No one knew where he was, only that he was searching for something to make him whole again. Something to replace his dead first love, his lost best friend, and the bitter endings of what could have been the most special thing in his life.

Joyce looked down at the grave. There were so many flowers on it, so many people remembering the young Slayer, on the first anniversary of her death. But at the very center of the grave a single rose lay.

That rose was fresh every night. And no one ever put a flower down that touched it. Because everyone knew who the roses were from.

The Slayer’s mother noticed that the rose was a deep red. For a moment she thought about it. She had seen roses of pure white, and roses of deepest black. Roses in every hue, symbolizing a relationship so deep and binding, she still couldn’t grasp it. She wondered what in Angel’s mood had chosen a red rose for the previous evening. And then it struck her. Yesterday had been the night when he had killed her. And the rose was blood red.

But Joyce sensed there was more to it than that. She remembered her daughter’s face in the arms of the man she loved. She remembered ecstasy on both their faces.

And for all that she had learned to see that Angel was a man. She also understood that he was a vampire. And that the night that Buffy died had probably been the second most passionate moment in his life.

Joyce walked away from her daughter’s grave as she saw a shadow move in the trees.

Angel knelt on the grave. For some reason he felt that he needed to do more, on this night. More than talk to her, more than listen for her answer. More than leave a rose to symbolize their relationship.

He withdrew his offering of the night. A golden rose. All the hues of the sun were contained in the flower. It reminded him of the fact that she had always been the sun to him. Now that he had a taste of real sunlight, he realized that her soul was so much more than that to him. But it was still the first image that came to his mind.

The vampire pulled a small silver knife out. It was the same knife that Buffy had brought to her throat over a year ago, but this time the blood that it shed would be his.

Angel watched as his blood dripped slowly onto the rose, and then he set it down in its place on her grave.

He stared at it for a moment, before whispering, "Blood of my blood. Soul of my soul."

Angel wanted to say more. Wanted to express what he was feeling. But he couldn’t seem to find the words. And as he lifted his head to the moon, tears began to fall down his face.

He realized he was about to ask the world, Why?, again, when he felt it. He felt a finger touch his lips, silencing his protest. He looked around madly but saw nothing.

And then he heard it, a whisper so close that he expected to see her golden head.

"The future is coming, love, it’s finally time, you have to move on."

Strangely, his thoughts, for the first time in a year, contained a trace of real humor, So now she gets to be cryptic…

Angel knelt at the grave of his true love. In his hand he held a single rose. It was pure white, as pure as her soul. As he laid it on her grave he spoke to her.

"It’s been five years. Five years since we buried you here.

"It hasn’t gotten easier. I sometimes wish it would, but somehow I don’t think it ever will. But I still love you. Yesterday, today, and forever. Like you once said to me, always and forever. I’ll always be yours."

Angel carefully lifted his necklace, and looked at the pair of rings that were held by the silver chain. "Sometimes I wonder if I should wear this, because my heart still belongs to you. I took it off, because I couldn’t bear it. I had broken the vows that I made you on the night I married you in my heart." Angel gave a sharp laugh, a sound that contained broken glass, "And now, now you’re dead. ‘Till death do us part, well death has parted us…"

The vampire fell to his knees, "Oh god, I miss you so much. It hurts so much. I never thought that I would outlive you. Not really. I knew you would age, but I always thought I would die to save you. You were my destiny, what do I have now?

"You were my strength, tell me, how do I go on?"

Angel listened carefully. But the wind brought no echo of her voice.

He was not surprised.

But he was so disappointed.

And then he heard a single foot fall behind him. For a moment he dared to hope, but the hope was shattered as he heard the rhythm of the heart that propelled the foot. He would know Buffy’s heartbeat if it were one among a million, even if he heard it a million years in the future.

Willow watched as Angel turned to face her. His grief was plain, and she knew she was only going to make the pain worse.

She also knew that what she was about to grant him was no longer one of his wishes, but it had been Buffy’s second greatest desire. And so she would give it to him, and to her memory.

"I found it."

Curiosity briefly flickered across the vampire’s features, before grief washed it away. Dully, Angel asked, "What?"

"Your cure."

"What cure?"

"The curse, you know, the loophole? Well I found out how to remove it."

Angel’s face did not change.

Willow wondered if he even understood what she had said, "The whole happiness deal. Well, I can fix it."

Angel turned away from his only friend, "No."

"Yes."

"Do you really think I’m ever going to be happy, again?"

"I know. I know this isn’t what you want. I know it just makes the pain worse. I know it brings up memories that you can’t deal with. That’s why I almost didn’t tell you."

"Then why?"

"Because she wanted it. More than almost anything."

"Why now?"

Willow understood Angel’s anguished cry. Seven years ago this cure could have changed the fate of the world. Five years ago it could have changed the pain the two had gone through. Willow could only acknowledge the truth, What a sick sense of humor the world has… "I don’t know. And I wish she were here to see this. But she’s not."

Angel turned back to the witch in anger, but stopped short as he saw what she held, an Orb of Thesselah. The vampire’s eyes widened, as he breathed, "No."

Willow only smiled and blew on the Orb. It shimmered into a thousand glowing sparks, which enfolded Angel in light. "Too late, Angel. Already done."

When the magic faded, the vampire glared and turned and walked away.

Willow stared at his retreating form and sighed, "Angel. You will be happy again. One day. One way or another. Sooner or later. But it will happen."