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eclectic_friendsTitle: Less And More Than Friends: Take One Last Look At This Sacred Heart
Author:
tmbreck / eclectic_tongue / 
eclectic
Beta:velvetwhip
Rating: FRT
Warning: n/a
Summary: A small war and a goodbye.
A/N: Written for my wonderful beta,velvetwhip. This story has taken forever to get this far, but she's been ever so patient.
He questioned his decision to leave every time he woke up, and every time he was tempted to go to Willow he remembered why he had to get as far away from Sunnydale, and her, as possible.
That fact was only driven further home when he came face to face with what could have happened to Willow. She was not the sweet little innocent girl that drove his demon mad with the urge to corrupt. She wasn’t even the end product of what he would have done to Willow; far too sane for that. However, this Willow from another reality was a wakeup call. He had to get away before he did something that he couldn’t take back.
Of course, the universe was a cruel place, and so he found himself playing at being soulless as he unknowingly terrified the one girl he would do anything to protect. As much as he never wanted Angelus to make an encore appearance, he hoped that Giles was on hand if it ever did happen. Given that he had suffered at Angelus’s hands and knew Willow was aware of the fate she had just barely escaped, one would think the Watcher, of all people, would have thought to warn the poor girl. One look at Willow’s tear-soaked face and Angel knew that no one had.
As much as he ached for her, he was also impressed by her ability to keep her head when she had to have been absolutely terrified. Maybe she really didn’t need him after all. She had her strength to keep her from crumbling when the others need her, and she had Buffy there to catch her when it was safe to fall. If he were a better man, he wouldn’t feel ready to choke on the bitterness of that thought.
That was exactly the problem, though; he was not a better man. He had always been morally weak and easily tempted.
“I get it now.”
Angel had been so lost in his thoughts that Willow had somehow managed to sneak into the mansion without him knowing it. Though, to be fair, she probably didn’t sneak so much as walk in the unlocked front door. Trying to cover the fact that she had caught him by surprise, he simply looked at her with a questioning expression.
“I get why you have to leave. I know it’s more about you than me, and I’m not even mad anymore.”
Willow walked further into the room, not stopping until she was nearly as close as when they had danced. Grasping his hand in one of hers, she looked up at him with wet eyes.
“I’m not okay right now. Not even all that close to it. But I will be okay. I’m going to be strong enough to make it through this. And I get that you can’t stay here and be strong with me, and I’m okay with that now.”
Before he could respond, not that he could think of anything to say, she leaned in and hugged him. It was quickly over; in some ways far too soon, in others not soon enough. Still without waiting for him to say anything, Willow turned and walked back out the door she had entered.
This was where the story should end. That felt like a final goodbye. But life, especially life on the Hellmouth, was never wrapped up with all the ends tied up nice and neatly with a bow. He had to walk around in the same town as her with that goodbye resting like a lead weight in his gut.
A part of him was angry that she chose now to let him know she could get along just fine without him. He understood what prompted it; she kept it together while in the clutches of the evil Mayor and a crazy slayer. She even managed to snag a few important pages from the Books of Ascension while she was in there. But that didn’t change the fact that he still had to see her with that goodbye playing in the back of his mind on an endless loop.
He was grateful that she stopped by before he could show up at her window after Prom. He hadn’t gone, but part of him had hoped for another dance, no matter how ill-advised it was. And it was so very ill-advised, especially when Buffy’s hints for reconciliation during patrols were eating away at his already precarious control over his darker urges. He had finally stopped those hints by telling her that he was leaving after the Ascension. She, of course, had assumed it was about their relationship, and he let her.
God, he really was a coward.
It was just too bad he wasn’t enough of a coward to make up an excuse not to search the dead professor’s apartment with Buffy when Giles asked him to be back-up. Everything went smoothly up until they hit the street and Buffy started in on him. He understood what she was going through; he just wished he also had the luxury of behaving like a child anytime he felt like it. That was unfair, wasn’t it? Knowing it was an unfair didn’t stop her attitude from getting to him, though.
“Isn’t it even a little hard for you?”
He should have kept his mouth shut when she asked that. He should have pulled tight his cloak of brooding and just walked away. Apparently, along with not being good at confrontations or resisting temptation, he was also not good at walking away when it was in his best interest.
“You know, I can’t understand why you don’t get it. Willow understands that it’s about me needing to be away from here! Why do you have to be a brat about it?”
There was a look of confusion on Buffy’s face that Angel didn’t really understand for a moment. When what he said replayed in his head, however, he felt dread in the pit of his stomach.
“First of all, it’s good to know what you really think of me. Second of all, I just told Willow before Prom that you were leaving. How would you know what she understands about it?”
Angel was pretty sure there were demons in the world who could actually turn back time by at least a few minutes. Right then, he wished he was good friends with one and that they owed him a favor. Since that wasn’t the case, he had to try and minimize the fallout of his slip-up.
“Willow and I are friends. We talk.”
Before he could find out if his quick verbal sleight of hand was enough to stop that particular line of questioning, there was a sharp pain in his upper back and chest. He saw a look of shock on Buffy’s face before he fell forward and, through the dizziness, heard her yell his name.
While he managed the walk to the school library on his own, he could feel that he was weaker than he should be. Hell, he could feel the sweat almost pouring from his body. Even when he concentrated after the arrow was removed, he couldn’t feel himself start to heal. Angel tried to ignore the pain he felt; tried to not let on to anyone else that something was wrong. However, when he had trouble even standing, and then managed to fall after getting upright with Buffy’s help, he knew there was no hiding it.
It was all downhill from there. Time became a blur and he wasn’t sure how he made it back to the mansion. He knew that he was hallucinating. Sometimes Darla would come to him, calling him her darling boy. She told him that he was hers forever, with or without a soul. Other times it was Drusilla calling him daddy and wanting to play games. The worst (best) times were when it was Spike. Drusilla’s darling, deadly boy with his flirting looks and sharp smile or his boy William with the wide-eyed wonder and stammering protests, it didn’t matter. He felt the same dread (thrill) at his presence.
As in reality, the Spike of his hallucinations refused to be ignored; refused to be anything less than the center of Angel’s attention. It didn’t stop at what they could (and had) done together. He would tell Angel of all the things they could do with Willow; all the ways they could bend and break her and make her stay with them forever.
He tried to ignore the tempting tales, he really did. But he could so easily picture Willow wearing only a corset and sitting on Spike’s lap, her back to his bare chest and his cock buried deep in her sweet cunt. And if it was his sweet boy, William, beneath her, they would put on a show just for Angel, tempting him to abandon the sketch of the pair he was working on.
“Impatient children. If I stop now to play, we’ll have to start this all over again in a few hours.”
A voice answered, telling him that he would be okay, but it was neither Spike nor Willow, so he ignored it in favor of his fevered dreams. And fevered they were. Because if it was Spike of the sharp edges and wicked tongue with Willow, it was useless for Angel to resist. Spike always knew how best to tempt Angelus, and he was never afraid of the consequences.
There were voices that played in the background of his fantasies; some he recognized and others that were too distant to identify. He knew when it was Willow in the room, though. Those were the only times he fought the poison enough to actually surface.
Reaching out, he grabbed hold of her hand and held it to his lips. Letting their joined hands fall to his chest, he struggled to talk to her one last time.
“I was wrong to think I could leave you. I’m not strong enough to fight temptation, and I’m not good enough to avoid it all together. I wish were a strong man. A better man. I’ve never been the kind of man that would be good enough for you, and I regret that.”
Her eyes were worried and he couldn’t really make out what she said to him. It didn’t really matter, though. She was here and holding on just as desperately as he was, and that was enough. Too soon, though, he saw her look toward the door. Buffy was looking at them with a very confused expression on her face. Angel struggled to sit up. He may not have been a good man, but he still wouldn’t leave Willow to face his former lover alone. If he concentrated hard enough, he could understand what people were saying.
“Faith?”
Buffy shook her head at Willow’s mention of the other slayer’s name. If he could shake the fog out of his head he could have understood why she was important right now, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
“I’m not going to let him die. He can drink from me. If he doesn’t take it all –if you can use your magic to stop him –we can cure him without me dying.”
There was a reason this was a very bad idea. If the poison hadn’t been running through his veins right then, he could have emphatically explained all the ways in which this was very wrong. He didn’t have the energy or the time, so he had to keep it simple.
“No.”
Both Buffy and Willow turned quickly to look at him. Struggling off the bed because he didn’t feel comfortable letting Buffy stand over him while he spoke, he continued.
“I’m ready to die, now. I’ve lived more than long enough, and the world needs you too much to risk it.”
Without waiting for their argument, Angel stumbled into the main room, bouncing off the doorway and furniture. He could hear them quickly following and could vaguely hear them calling his name. He had to get away before his cowardice won out and they could convince him to drink.
He felt a sharp tug and he was suddenly facing Buffy, still a bit unsteady on his feet.
“I’m not going to lose you. You can’t leave me like this!”
She punctuated her yelling with a hard punch to his face. He managed to stay upright, but could feel his world getting fuzzy and distant again. A second punch and he nearly went down. He could make out Willow yelling something, her voice upset. Right before a third blow landed, he made the connection and realized that she was upset with Buffy.
Perhaps if the poison had acted faster and left him weaker, or if he hadn’t heard Willow’s distress at Buffy’s actions, he could have simply gone down and not fought back. But he was strong enough to stay standing, and so far gone that he could only register that the woman he loved was upset and the cause was standing right in front of him. On instinct and without thought, he attacked.
One day he would look back and think that he understood part of why Spike was so enthralled with killing Slayers. Their blood was rich and satisfying; a bit of ambrosia on the mortal plane. In that moment, however, he was only thinking of feeding.
He began to feel small fists pounding on him, interrupted occasionally by those same hands trying to pull him away from his meal.
“Angel! Please, Angel, you’re killing her!”
He could hear true terror in Willow’s voice, and it brought him slowly back to himself. Before he could pull himself off Buffy, he went flying back, only stopping when he hit the wall of the main room. Sitting in a crumpled heap against that wall, he looked up and saw Willow hovering over her friend, a soft glow coming from where her hand lay against Buffy’s neck. Even as she healed the slayer, he could hear her whispers.
“You can’t do things like this, Buffy. I’m not powerful enough for you to just assume I can save your life.”
Slowly, Buffy raised her hand to hold onto Willow’s forearm.
“Will, I don’t get to say this much, but you’re so very wrong.”
The guilt that gnawed at him doubled when Willow turned to look in his direction. He had disappointed her again. First by not being strong enough to stay and help her heal, and then by not being strong enough to resist fighting back against Buffy. When all was said and done, if you stripped away the supposed destiny that came with his soul and the delusions of grandeur that came without it, he was still just Liam – and Liam had always been weak.
It seemed like no time had passed before the sun rose and everyone was gathered in the library. Since no one was giving him dirty looks –well, no more than usual, at least –Angel could only assume that the others hadn’t been told how close he had come to draining Buffy. As much as he wanted to pretend that his relief was due only to the fact that they needed to work together, he knew it was mostly because he didn’t want to remember how he’d once again let Willow down. Nearly two and a half centuries and he was still letting the people he cared about down.
The battle planning was, put kindly, stunted and fragmented. Their best lead was Buffy’s cryptic dream-visit from Faith –if the higher powers were on the side of the slayers, then why weren’t they clearer in their message delivery? –though they were all having problems coming up with a human weakness that the Mayor could have that could be used against him. As if summoned by their constant thoughts of him, the future demon came purposely striding through the double doors. He was maintaining calm, but Angel could clearly see that a large part of him was internally raging and that fury was slipping out the closer he got to Buffy.
“You murderous little whore! This was supposed to be my Faith’s big day. Instead, you tried to use her to save your useless pet vampire.”
Angel stepped between them just as the Wilkins reached out a hand to Buffy’s neck and shoved the Mayor hard enough to send him crashing against the desk. When he stood up and straightened his suit, he seemed to collect himself. His eyes then swept over the room’s occupants.
“We’re going to have to close the curtain on this act, boys and girls. Don’t you worry, though, the show will go on. Keep an eye out for that final act, it’s going to really bring the house down!”
With that, he turned and left the room, the soles of his expensive shoes leaving behind an angry echo. Suddenly, it clicked in Angel’s mind. Turning back to the others, he gave them the answer they had been looking for.
“Faith.”
The planning went a lot smoother after that. Buffy was in her element, a general commanding her small army in preparation for war. It was moments like this that Angel wished that romance had never came into it with them. He would have been honored to have called this young woman his friend.
Soon enough, the time for planning came to an end, and Mayor Wilkins was at the podium giving a speech that would almost qualify as moving from someone a bit less evil. However, the sky darkened and he nearly doubled over in obvious pain. Angel’s muscles tightened in preparation, waiting for the darkness to come.
Everything began happening at once, and Angel lost himself in the battle. It had been a long time –since before he had his soul –since he’d been able to truly let go and test the limits of his skills. The vampires weren’t old enough to be decent opponents, but there were enough of them to make up in number what they lacked in power.
The explosion stopped everyone in their tracks. When the vampires realized that things had not gone as planned for them, they began a hasty retreat. Angel was snapped out of his post-battle haze by a movement at his side. He watched as Xander walked off –probably to find out how many of his friends and fellow students they had lost–and he took that as his cue to leave.
He had intended to simply slip away in the chaos, knowing that Xander had seen that he had survived and would tell the others. However, the second he caught sight of Willow in a relatively deserted area, his intentions drifted away like smoke on the wind. She had already said her goodbyes and had her closure, but he had been feeling it like an aching wound since then.
As he stopped before her, he was at a loss for words. He could never begin to describe how he equally regretted every moment they shared and cherished them as well. Somewhere along the way she had become the symbol of his temptation and redemption. There were no words to express that, so he didn’t even try. Instead, he gently cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.
This kiss was not a promise or a declaration. There was no hope that they could somehow have a future of any kind together. As his lips moved over hers and she responded, he could feel the heavy weight of pain and loss settle in his chest. He was too weak to resist the temptation if he stayed, and she was too smart to ever ask him to try.
This was their goodbye.
Author:
tmbreck / eclectic_tongue / eclecticBeta:
velvetwhipRating: FRT
Warning: n/a
Summary: A small war and a goodbye.
A/N: Written for my wonderful beta,
velvetwhip. This story has taken forever to get this far, but she's been ever so patient.He questioned his decision to leave every time he woke up, and every time he was tempted to go to Willow he remembered why he had to get as far away from Sunnydale, and her, as possible.
That fact was only driven further home when he came face to face with what could have happened to Willow. She was not the sweet little innocent girl that drove his demon mad with the urge to corrupt. She wasn’t even the end product of what he would have done to Willow; far too sane for that. However, this Willow from another reality was a wakeup call. He had to get away before he did something that he couldn’t take back.
Of course, the universe was a cruel place, and so he found himself playing at being soulless as he unknowingly terrified the one girl he would do anything to protect. As much as he never wanted Angelus to make an encore appearance, he hoped that Giles was on hand if it ever did happen. Given that he had suffered at Angelus’s hands and knew Willow was aware of the fate she had just barely escaped, one would think the Watcher, of all people, would have thought to warn the poor girl. One look at Willow’s tear-soaked face and Angel knew that no one had.
As much as he ached for her, he was also impressed by her ability to keep her head when she had to have been absolutely terrified. Maybe she really didn’t need him after all. She had her strength to keep her from crumbling when the others need her, and she had Buffy there to catch her when it was safe to fall. If he were a better man, he wouldn’t feel ready to choke on the bitterness of that thought.
That was exactly the problem, though; he was not a better man. He had always been morally weak and easily tempted.
“I get it now.”
Angel had been so lost in his thoughts that Willow had somehow managed to sneak into the mansion without him knowing it. Though, to be fair, she probably didn’t sneak so much as walk in the unlocked front door. Trying to cover the fact that she had caught him by surprise, he simply looked at her with a questioning expression.
“I get why you have to leave. I know it’s more about you than me, and I’m not even mad anymore.”
Willow walked further into the room, not stopping until she was nearly as close as when they had danced. Grasping his hand in one of hers, she looked up at him with wet eyes.
“I’m not okay right now. Not even all that close to it. But I will be okay. I’m going to be strong enough to make it through this. And I get that you can’t stay here and be strong with me, and I’m okay with that now.”
Before he could respond, not that he could think of anything to say, she leaned in and hugged him. It was quickly over; in some ways far too soon, in others not soon enough. Still without waiting for him to say anything, Willow turned and walked back out the door she had entered.
This was where the story should end. That felt like a final goodbye. But life, especially life on the Hellmouth, was never wrapped up with all the ends tied up nice and neatly with a bow. He had to walk around in the same town as her with that goodbye resting like a lead weight in his gut.
A part of him was angry that she chose now to let him know she could get along just fine without him. He understood what prompted it; she kept it together while in the clutches of the evil Mayor and a crazy slayer. She even managed to snag a few important pages from the Books of Ascension while she was in there. But that didn’t change the fact that he still had to see her with that goodbye playing in the back of his mind on an endless loop.
He was grateful that she stopped by before he could show up at her window after Prom. He hadn’t gone, but part of him had hoped for another dance, no matter how ill-advised it was. And it was so very ill-advised, especially when Buffy’s hints for reconciliation during patrols were eating away at his already precarious control over his darker urges. He had finally stopped those hints by telling her that he was leaving after the Ascension. She, of course, had assumed it was about their relationship, and he let her.
God, he really was a coward.
It was just too bad he wasn’t enough of a coward to make up an excuse not to search the dead professor’s apartment with Buffy when Giles asked him to be back-up. Everything went smoothly up until they hit the street and Buffy started in on him. He understood what she was going through; he just wished he also had the luxury of behaving like a child anytime he felt like it. That was unfair, wasn’t it? Knowing it was an unfair didn’t stop her attitude from getting to him, though.
“Isn’t it even a little hard for you?”
He should have kept his mouth shut when she asked that. He should have pulled tight his cloak of brooding and just walked away. Apparently, along with not being good at confrontations or resisting temptation, he was also not good at walking away when it was in his best interest.
“You know, I can’t understand why you don’t get it. Willow understands that it’s about me needing to be away from here! Why do you have to be a brat about it?”
There was a look of confusion on Buffy’s face that Angel didn’t really understand for a moment. When what he said replayed in his head, however, he felt dread in the pit of his stomach.
“First of all, it’s good to know what you really think of me. Second of all, I just told Willow before Prom that you were leaving. How would you know what she understands about it?”
Angel was pretty sure there were demons in the world who could actually turn back time by at least a few minutes. Right then, he wished he was good friends with one and that they owed him a favor. Since that wasn’t the case, he had to try and minimize the fallout of his slip-up.
“Willow and I are friends. We talk.”
Before he could find out if his quick verbal sleight of hand was enough to stop that particular line of questioning, there was a sharp pain in his upper back and chest. He saw a look of shock on Buffy’s face before he fell forward and, through the dizziness, heard her yell his name.
While he managed the walk to the school library on his own, he could feel that he was weaker than he should be. Hell, he could feel the sweat almost pouring from his body. Even when he concentrated after the arrow was removed, he couldn’t feel himself start to heal. Angel tried to ignore the pain he felt; tried to not let on to anyone else that something was wrong. However, when he had trouble even standing, and then managed to fall after getting upright with Buffy’s help, he knew there was no hiding it.
It was all downhill from there. Time became a blur and he wasn’t sure how he made it back to the mansion. He knew that he was hallucinating. Sometimes Darla would come to him, calling him her darling boy. She told him that he was hers forever, with or without a soul. Other times it was Drusilla calling him daddy and wanting to play games. The worst (best) times were when it was Spike. Drusilla’s darling, deadly boy with his flirting looks and sharp smile or his boy William with the wide-eyed wonder and stammering protests, it didn’t matter. He felt the same dread (thrill) at his presence.
As in reality, the Spike of his hallucinations refused to be ignored; refused to be anything less than the center of Angel’s attention. It didn’t stop at what they could (and had) done together. He would tell Angel of all the things they could do with Willow; all the ways they could bend and break her and make her stay with them forever.
He tried to ignore the tempting tales, he really did. But he could so easily picture Willow wearing only a corset and sitting on Spike’s lap, her back to his bare chest and his cock buried deep in her sweet cunt. And if it was his sweet boy, William, beneath her, they would put on a show just for Angel, tempting him to abandon the sketch of the pair he was working on.
“Impatient children. If I stop now to play, we’ll have to start this all over again in a few hours.”
A voice answered, telling him that he would be okay, but it was neither Spike nor Willow, so he ignored it in favor of his fevered dreams. And fevered they were. Because if it was Spike of the sharp edges and wicked tongue with Willow, it was useless for Angel to resist. Spike always knew how best to tempt Angelus, and he was never afraid of the consequences.
There were voices that played in the background of his fantasies; some he recognized and others that were too distant to identify. He knew when it was Willow in the room, though. Those were the only times he fought the poison enough to actually surface.
Reaching out, he grabbed hold of her hand and held it to his lips. Letting their joined hands fall to his chest, he struggled to talk to her one last time.
“I was wrong to think I could leave you. I’m not strong enough to fight temptation, and I’m not good enough to avoid it all together. I wish were a strong man. A better man. I’ve never been the kind of man that would be good enough for you, and I regret that.”
Her eyes were worried and he couldn’t really make out what she said to him. It didn’t really matter, though. She was here and holding on just as desperately as he was, and that was enough. Too soon, though, he saw her look toward the door. Buffy was looking at them with a very confused expression on her face. Angel struggled to sit up. He may not have been a good man, but he still wouldn’t leave Willow to face his former lover alone. If he concentrated hard enough, he could understand what people were saying.
“Faith?”
Buffy shook her head at Willow’s mention of the other slayer’s name. If he could shake the fog out of his head he could have understood why she was important right now, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
“I’m not going to let him die. He can drink from me. If he doesn’t take it all –if you can use your magic to stop him –we can cure him without me dying.”
There was a reason this was a very bad idea. If the poison hadn’t been running through his veins right then, he could have emphatically explained all the ways in which this was very wrong. He didn’t have the energy or the time, so he had to keep it simple.
“No.”
Both Buffy and Willow turned quickly to look at him. Struggling off the bed because he didn’t feel comfortable letting Buffy stand over him while he spoke, he continued.
“I’m ready to die, now. I’ve lived more than long enough, and the world needs you too much to risk it.”
Without waiting for their argument, Angel stumbled into the main room, bouncing off the doorway and furniture. He could hear them quickly following and could vaguely hear them calling his name. He had to get away before his cowardice won out and they could convince him to drink.
He felt a sharp tug and he was suddenly facing Buffy, still a bit unsteady on his feet.
“I’m not going to lose you. You can’t leave me like this!”
She punctuated her yelling with a hard punch to his face. He managed to stay upright, but could feel his world getting fuzzy and distant again. A second punch and he nearly went down. He could make out Willow yelling something, her voice upset. Right before a third blow landed, he made the connection and realized that she was upset with Buffy.
Perhaps if the poison had acted faster and left him weaker, or if he hadn’t heard Willow’s distress at Buffy’s actions, he could have simply gone down and not fought back. But he was strong enough to stay standing, and so far gone that he could only register that the woman he loved was upset and the cause was standing right in front of him. On instinct and without thought, he attacked.
One day he would look back and think that he understood part of why Spike was so enthralled with killing Slayers. Their blood was rich and satisfying; a bit of ambrosia on the mortal plane. In that moment, however, he was only thinking of feeding.
He began to feel small fists pounding on him, interrupted occasionally by those same hands trying to pull him away from his meal.
“Angel! Please, Angel, you’re killing her!”
He could hear true terror in Willow’s voice, and it brought him slowly back to himself. Before he could pull himself off Buffy, he went flying back, only stopping when he hit the wall of the main room. Sitting in a crumpled heap against that wall, he looked up and saw Willow hovering over her friend, a soft glow coming from where her hand lay against Buffy’s neck. Even as she healed the slayer, he could hear her whispers.
“You can’t do things like this, Buffy. I’m not powerful enough for you to just assume I can save your life.”
Slowly, Buffy raised her hand to hold onto Willow’s forearm.
“Will, I don’t get to say this much, but you’re so very wrong.”
The guilt that gnawed at him doubled when Willow turned to look in his direction. He had disappointed her again. First by not being strong enough to stay and help her heal, and then by not being strong enough to resist fighting back against Buffy. When all was said and done, if you stripped away the supposed destiny that came with his soul and the delusions of grandeur that came without it, he was still just Liam – and Liam had always been weak.
It seemed like no time had passed before the sun rose and everyone was gathered in the library. Since no one was giving him dirty looks –well, no more than usual, at least –Angel could only assume that the others hadn’t been told how close he had come to draining Buffy. As much as he wanted to pretend that his relief was due only to the fact that they needed to work together, he knew it was mostly because he didn’t want to remember how he’d once again let Willow down. Nearly two and a half centuries and he was still letting the people he cared about down.
The battle planning was, put kindly, stunted and fragmented. Their best lead was Buffy’s cryptic dream-visit from Faith –if the higher powers were on the side of the slayers, then why weren’t they clearer in their message delivery? –though they were all having problems coming up with a human weakness that the Mayor could have that could be used against him. As if summoned by their constant thoughts of him, the future demon came purposely striding through the double doors. He was maintaining calm, but Angel could clearly see that a large part of him was internally raging and that fury was slipping out the closer he got to Buffy.
“You murderous little whore! This was supposed to be my Faith’s big day. Instead, you tried to use her to save your useless pet vampire.”
Angel stepped between them just as the Wilkins reached out a hand to Buffy’s neck and shoved the Mayor hard enough to send him crashing against the desk. When he stood up and straightened his suit, he seemed to collect himself. His eyes then swept over the room’s occupants.
“We’re going to have to close the curtain on this act, boys and girls. Don’t you worry, though, the show will go on. Keep an eye out for that final act, it’s going to really bring the house down!”
With that, he turned and left the room, the soles of his expensive shoes leaving behind an angry echo. Suddenly, it clicked in Angel’s mind. Turning back to the others, he gave them the answer they had been looking for.
“Faith.”
The planning went a lot smoother after that. Buffy was in her element, a general commanding her small army in preparation for war. It was moments like this that Angel wished that romance had never came into it with them. He would have been honored to have called this young woman his friend.
Soon enough, the time for planning came to an end, and Mayor Wilkins was at the podium giving a speech that would almost qualify as moving from someone a bit less evil. However, the sky darkened and he nearly doubled over in obvious pain. Angel’s muscles tightened in preparation, waiting for the darkness to come.
Everything began happening at once, and Angel lost himself in the battle. It had been a long time –since before he had his soul –since he’d been able to truly let go and test the limits of his skills. The vampires weren’t old enough to be decent opponents, but there were enough of them to make up in number what they lacked in power.
The explosion stopped everyone in their tracks. When the vampires realized that things had not gone as planned for them, they began a hasty retreat. Angel was snapped out of his post-battle haze by a movement at his side. He watched as Xander walked off –probably to find out how many of his friends and fellow students they had lost–and he took that as his cue to leave.
He had intended to simply slip away in the chaos, knowing that Xander had seen that he had survived and would tell the others. However, the second he caught sight of Willow in a relatively deserted area, his intentions drifted away like smoke on the wind. She had already said her goodbyes and had her closure, but he had been feeling it like an aching wound since then.
As he stopped before her, he was at a loss for words. He could never begin to describe how he equally regretted every moment they shared and cherished them as well. Somewhere along the way she had become the symbol of his temptation and redemption. There were no words to express that, so he didn’t even try. Instead, he gently cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.
This kiss was not a promise or a declaration. There was no hope that they could somehow have a future of any kind together. As his lips moved over hers and she responded, he could feel the heavy weight of pain and loss settle in his chest. He was too weak to resist the temptation if he stayed, and she was too smart to ever ask him to try.
This was their goodbye.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-07-23 12:36 am (UTC)I really enjoyed the ending. Well done!
(no subject)
Date: 2013-07-23 12:41 am (UTC)