Summary: In a desperate attempt to resurrect Angelus, an old enemy returns to Sunnydale to recruit the one person that can bring Angel true happiness. Spoilers for BtVS 5/AtS2. B/Aus.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel: the Series belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and Fox. No copyright infringement is intended. Characters are used here solely for entertainment purposes.
A/N: Thanks so much to Spikeskat for beta-ing! You're a lifesaver :o)
A/N2: Answer to our challenge for Dani and Hannahbee's '2 Heads Are Better Than 1 B/A(us) Challenge Ficathon'. Challenge requirements will be posted at the end of the fic.
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Prologue
She sank to her knees in front of the grave, her fingertips digging into the moist earth. God, she was tired…so very tired. This past year had been a nightmare, an endless string of disasters. One crisis after another tumbled into her lap and the misery never seemed to stop. Riley's big vamp suckfest, Dawn's keyness, Glory's godness and her mother's death… Buffy closed her eyes, throat constricting as she choked back a sob. Mommy…
No, her mother was gone, buried under six feet of dirt and rock. No advice or understanding would be coming from that direction. No one loving her unconditionally and rooting for her from the sidelines. No one. She opened her eyes and stared unseeingly at the unmarked grave. Her mother's grave. A promise to protect Dawn was the last intangible link binding Buffy to the woman who'd slipped so far beyond her reach. A promise she might not be able to keep. She simply didn't know if she was strong enough this time. Strong enough to defeat Glory. Strong enough to stop hell on earth. Strong enough to save Dawn.
Unacceptable. Buffy rejected the thought as soon as it entered her mind, the consequences too damning to consider. Failure was not an option. She'd managed before and she'd manage again. She would not let Dawn become a sacrifice. Dry-eyed and determined, she rose to her feet. The Slayer's mask firmly settled into place. She would defend Dawn to the very end.
"Even if it's the last thing I ever do…" A gust of wind drowned out her whispered words as an aching darkness abruptly descended on the distracted slayer.
*****
The pencil in Angel's hand snapped under pressure. In his lap lay a nearly finished sketch to add to the obsessively large pile of portraits he'd drawn over the last few days and nights. He glanced at the messy stack of drawings, all of Darla... From each piece, her penetrating gaze seemed to bore into his skull, tracking every movement. Though her grey eyes were now merely charcoal shadows, Angel could see the color and the emotion behind them. The anger, the pain, the evilness, but never love... It was all there, staring back at him.
He stood immediately, and in a violent arc of his hand, carefully detailed faces scattered into the air. A sharp pain shot through his gut as the last papers fluttered to the floor of the old hotel. The agony he felt was familiar and harsh... but most of all, it was unmistakable. As he dropped to his knees amongst the portraits, he tried to comprehend what was happening to him or more importantly, why. For the last few hours he'd been the furthest from true happiness than he'd been in a very long time.
The pain tightened, and his fingers dug into the carpet, crinkling his art in fistfuls. Only then did he notice the unfinished drawing he'd let fall to the ground along with the others; the only loving eyes staring back at him.
"...Buffy?"
*****
She knew that there was little time left. Her small form shuddered as blood slowly pumped from the ragged tear in her neck, the wound throbbing dully as she began to lose consciousness for the last time. Her worst fears were coming true. She had failed them all… Giles, Willow, Xander, Dawn, her mother, the world… Who would save them now? Who would save them from herself?
Angel gasped. There was only one pain more horrible than your soul being ripped from your body, and that was the feeling of dread and fear that came with being able to feel your soul mate's life slipping away.
It became too hard to think as her heart and mind finally shut down. The light in her eyes gradually dimmed. She ceased trembling as senses numbed and her shallow breaths faded into nothing. The slayer was dead.
Salty tears streamed down his cheeks. Now there was truly nothing left to fight for and Angel gave up. He collapsed onto the floor, eyes flashing yellow as his soul, too, left this mortal realm.
Two souls drifting in the ether collided and entwined, warming each other, at peace…
Buffy…
Angel…
TBC???
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