DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Angel or Buffy or anything except a few excellent CDs and some videos. And that’s about it.
TIMELINE: Entirely AU. Set in the 1940s. No vampires or anything.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, this is something I haven't really tried before. It's set in 1941, as you'll see. There's a distinct lack of vampires or demons, but there's other troubles a-brewing in the world. Just read and discover, my friends.
FEEDBACK: Yes, I like feedback. Pretty please with a cherry on top?

Buffy Summers was sure of three things in life.

Number One: Her boyfriend loved her.

Number Two: Frank Sinatra was the best, most handsome singer ever.

Number Three: The war was something far away in Europe.

Unfortunately, she was wrong about the third one.

June 1941. Sunnydale, California

“Congratulations, sweetheart.” Joyce Summers hugged her daughter tightly. Buffy had just graduated from Sunnydale High School Class of 1941. Her best friend Willow Rosenberg was Class Valedictorian. Now the flame haired girl came over to Buffy and her mother.

“Congratulations, Willow dear. That was a wonderful speech.” Joyce told her. Willow blushed furiously.

“Tell me, honey,” Joyce turned serious. “Have you heard anything about your grandparents?” Willow looked down at the floor and shook her head. Joyce put her arm around the girl. Willow’s grandparents were Polish Jews and nothing had been heard from them for a worrying amount of time.

“You’re coming to Buffy’s graduation party?” Joyce asked Willow. The girl nodded eagerly, forcing happiness into her smile.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The house on Revello Drive was packed to bursting that night. Practically the entire graduating class had turned up. Buffy, on the other hand, didn’t really care who had shown up, she was more concerned about one person who had yet to arrive.

“Buffy, he’ll be here soon.” Willow said, handing her friend a bottle of Coke.

“I know. I just wish he’d hurry up.” She said.

“He’ll be here.” At that very moment, a car pulled up outside the house. Buffy jumped up from her seat and ran outside.

“Angel!”

“Hey, Buffy! Congratulations baby!” He jumped out of the car and pulled the blonde into his arms. He kissed her and she reciprocated fully, her hands on his neck, then up onto the back of his head, before running her fingers through his hair. She stopped, pulled away and opened her eyes.

“What happened to your hair?” She demanded. Where Angel once had perfectly slicked back hair like a movie star, now he had a close crop.

“Oh. Uh. I need to talk to you.” He said, taking her hand and leading her around to the back porch.

“You did it, didn’t you?” She said. “You signed up.”

“Yes.” Angel looked down at the ground.

“Why? I begged you not to.” She said, tears forming rapidly in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. But I have family in Britain and in Italy. There are people being killed for nothing more than their thoughts. I can’t sit by and do nothing.”

“Yes you can!”

“No, Buffy. I’ve joined the army. I’ll probably be going to Britain.”

“How soon?”

“Two weeks before I go to boot camp.”

“Angel,” She started in a small voice. “You promised me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know you are.” She leaned heavily into him.

“You’re just twenty years old, Angel.”

“Yeah. There are people younger than me going to fight.”

“Really? Like who?” She immediately shot back.

“Like Xander.” She turned and glared at him with undisguised venom.

“Xander?” She demanded. He nodded a little sadly.

“He was even more determined to join up than I was.” Angel told her.

“Why is everyone leaving me?” She asked despondently.

“We’re not leaving you.” He told her. “This is something so much bigger than just one or two people. This is about the whole world.” He stood up.

“I know.” She admitted, standing up and taking his arm.

“I just don’t want you to....” She trailed off, not wanting to verbalise her worst fears.

“I know.” He kissed her on the forehead.

“You want to go back inside?” She asked.

“No.” He said with a smirk. “But we probably should.” Angel wrapped his arm securely around her waist and led her into the house.

Angel Flynn was two years older than Buffy. Tall, dark, broad-shouldered, well muscled, utterly gorgeous and the star quarterback for Sunnydale High School from freshman year, he was the object of desire for every girl in Sunnydale. But from the moment in his junior year Joyce and Buffy Summers moved to Sunnydale and she became a freshman, Angel’s heart belonged to Buffy. She was little and blonde where he was tall and dark, bright and cheerful where he could sometimes be prone to brooding. He was the youngest member of the oldest Sunnydale family. The Flynns were rich and had been in Sunnydale since the town’s founding in the late 1800s. Angel and his parents lived in the huge mansion on the hill. It had been built in the earlier part of the century by his grandfather as an ego trip. Samuel Flynn had simply wanted to show the world how rich and powerful he was, and now Angel lived in a huge grey house that was too big for his tastes

Angel and Buffy had been together almost since she arrived in Sunnydale. She had quickly become one of the most liked girls at school with her bubbly, personable demeanour, although when she snatched Angel away from all the other girls, she made many jealous. But soon enough, Angel and Buffy became the golden couple of the school and had been voted Cutest Couple four years in a row, a Sunnydale High record. Everyone expected them to get married almost as soon as she graduated, and they feared for both now that Angel was off to become a hero.

A huge farewell party was planned for Angel and Xander- two of Sunnydale’s favourite young men. Everyone wanted to wish them both the best and other such things. It got to such an extent that Buffy, who only had two weeks left with Angel, found herself unable to speak to him due to everyone else. It frustrated her beyond belief. She was his girlfriend! Surely that got her some kind of special treatment? But no, Buffy found herself almost entirely sidelined, and Angel was powerless to stop it. After all, he was always too polite and courteous to decline invitations to dinner or to cut off conversations.

The night of Angel and Xander’s farewell party came upon them much quicker than anybody wanted. Buffy dressed up and plastered a smile on her face, but inside she was utterly dying. Her Angel was leaving the next day, she couldn’t do anything about it and she couldn’t even get close enough to him to say anything about it.

Angel’s smile began to fade rather quickly as the party continued. He just wanted to sit on the beach outside with Buffy. He searched the room for her, and when he realised she was no longer there, it was his impetus to stop the conversation and leave the party. He ran out of the country club and then looked around. The lights brightly blazing inside the club illuminated the beach enough for him to make out the figure of a small blonde sitting a way down on the dunes, looking out to the ocean. Without another hesitation he ran over to her.

“Buffy?” She turned, her eyes red from tears already shed.

“What?”

“Are you all right?”

“No.” She said shortly, turning back to the ocean.

“Buffy...”

“Don’t ‘Buffy’ me, Private.” She snapped. He sat down beside her and wrapped his arms around her. She tensed, but allowed him to continue.

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I don’t want to leave you. And if I had the choice, I’d never leave your side.”

“You do have a choice. America isn’t at war.”

“Yet.” He added. She merely snorted derisively.

“It isn’t about that. You know that.” He told her gently.

“I know. But I’m going to be selfish. You couldn’t make a difference, not just you on your own.”

“Maybe.” He paused. “But what if every man said that?”

“There’d be no war.”

“True. But there would be persecution. Adolf Hitler would have all of Europe by now.”

“I know.” She sighed.

“Besides, there are things I can do. I speak fluent Italian, near-perfect German and French. One man can make all the difference.”

“But why does that one man have to be you?” Buffy asked sadly. He smiled sweetly at her.

“So when I come home you can marry a hero.” Angel grinned. He then pulled a small box from his pocket and handed it to her. Her eyes widened and she smiled.

“I was going to do this later. It was going to be a big thing.”

“I like it this way.” She opened the box to reveal a diamond ring.

“It was my mother’s.” He told her. She smiled and allowed him to slide it onto her finger.

“It’s too big.” She pointed out as it came off easily. Angel’s face fell.

“Damn. That was meant to be romantic as hell.”

“It was.” She laughed. She unclasped the necklace she wore and put the ring onto it.

“Just until I can get it adjusted.” She told him.

“No. I’ll bring you a new one from Europe.” He promised.

“It’s a deal.” She kissed him softly. “You should get back to your party.”

“Come on.” He stood up and clasped her hand. “You’re not leaving my side, Summers.” He told her, and she laughed.

The party sped by after that. All were thrilled to hear Angel announce his engagement to Buffy. All except Joyce Summers, who was concerned that her daughter would be left hanging around waiting for someone who wouldn’t return.

The next morning, Buffy woke up earlier than ever before in order to say goodbye to Angel. She stood shivering in front of the huge front door of the Flynn mansion before the sun was even up. The only thing warming her were the arms wrapped tightly around her.

“Please don’t go.” She whispered.

“I’ll be back before you even notice.” He told her, flashing her a bright, charming smile. He kissed her for as long as they could stand it, before Xander arrived.

“Buffy!” He called, running up to the front door and hugging his friend tightly.

“I’ll miss you Xand.”

“I’m coming back, Buff.” He told her.

“You’d better.” She said. He let go of her and she immediately gravitated back towards Angel.

“Now, why aren’t I surprised you’re here, Summers?” Xander joked. Then, he checked his watch.

“Angel, my friend, we really have to go.”

“Just a couple more minutes?” Angel begged.

“We should’ve left seven and a half minutes ago.”

“OK. He turned to Buffy, tears in his eyes refusing to fall. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She replied and watched as her fiancé and her best friend walked down the path and got into the car. The pained but determined look on Angel’s face as the car pulled away would remain burned forever into Buffy’s memory.

Time passed. The news of the war in Europe became more intense, and Buffy was forced to admit that Angel was right: It did affect them all. While in boot camp Angel sent as many letters as he could, and Buffy found herself rushing to the mailbox each day in hope of another letter.

Then on December 7th, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in Hawaii and the Americans officially joined the war. What had previously been European was now worldwide. Angel and Xander were both sent to bases in Britain with the US Army and the letters home became fewer and further between. Buffy threw herself into the war effort with a fervour and intensity that surprised even her. She organised paper drives and scrap drives and war bond drives. She organised a canteen to rival that of the Hollywood Canteen run by Joan Crawford. She organised a playgroup for the children of Sunnydale so that their mothers could go and work at the munitions factory or make parachutes. Buffy even worked there too. Buffy didn’t just do her bit, she did the work of ten people. She became a familiar and welcome face in Sunnydale as she went around town working as hard as she possibly could and bring Angel home to her. She wept with Sunnydale mothers as they learned of their sons’ deaths and each tear she shed was for Angel. She went to church and prayed for the soldiers along with everyone else, and every prayer she said was for Angel.

There had always been a small military base just outside Sunnydale, but with the war it trebled in size. A flood of soldiers arrived in Sunnydale for various kinds of training before being shipped to Europe or the Pacific, and most residents found it comforting to see so many men in uniform around. Buffy, on the other hand, was only reminded of her uniformed fiancé far away and felt sick. She came to dread working at the Sunnydale Canteen for the soldiers, but she continued just the same, her thoughts always with Angel.

11th February 1942

Dear Buffy,

It’s been so long since I’ve been home, and I miss you terribly. It’s wet and cold here most of the time and I long for the blue skies and beaches of Sunnydale. Most of all, I long for you. The boys are always on at me to take advantage of all the pretty English girls but I only want you. Xander has been posted elsewhere in Britain. I can’t tell you where and if I did, the censor who is reading this before you would just blank it out anyway. Life here is hard. There has been constant bombing for a long time and so many people have lost lives and homes and well, everything. But the British are a curious sort with their stiff upper lips and they won’t let a little thing like homelessness or loved ones dying stop them from working hard to stop Hitler. But don’t you worry Buffy, sweet, darling Buffy. The war is already coming to an end and I’ll be home before you know it.

Love forever,

Angel.

She read and re-read her letter. She knew that the last sentence was a lie. From anyone else she disregarded such talk as empty-headed optimism. But from Angel, she bought into it entirely.

As she and Willow went to the movies twice a week, Buffy would watch the newsreels with a curious mix of fascination and horror. She would see films of bombed out families in London, Liverpool and Coventry and wonder if one of the people helping them was Angel. She would listen to reports on the wireless about troop movements and wonder if Angel was with them. It always, always came back to Angel. She continued to receive sporadic letters from Angel and she learned that he was rapidly making his way up the ranks of the army. This worried her. Why did he have to be so good at everything? Why did he have to be a hero? Buffy knew that heroes got killed; cautious soldiers came home. She wanted Angel to come home. Xander wrote to her too: He was using his good grades in science to join the bomb squad, diffusing and otherwise taking care of unexploded bombs and other explosives. She was both proud and utterly horrified.

But life went on and so did Buffy. The smile stayed in place as she tried to sell old Mrs Thompson yet more war bonds. The smile stayed in place as she asked for yet more scrap. The smile stayed in place as she worked in the canteen amongst all those soldiers. But at home, the smile disappeared. She could be strong for the boys ‘Over There’ and she could be strong for all the Sunnydale residents who were just as concerned and scared as she. But she couldn’t be strong for herself. Every night when she returned home was the same. Each night she pulled out her sheaf of letters from Angel and re-read them, hoping against hope that by memorising each of his words, it brought her closer to him.

“How was your day, dear?” Joyce would ask each night when her daughter returned from one or another of her activities.

“Fine.” Buffy would then automatically answer monotonously. Joyce would talk a little more and would become more and more concerned about Buffy’s monosyllabic answers. Then, when she would concede defeat, Buffy would head up the stairs and wouldn’t emerge until morning to repeat the facade of living once more.

Then, in August 1942, just over a year after leaving, Xander returned home. He was one of the lucky ones. His bomb squad had been clearing an unexploded bomb near a hospital in Coventry. All was well until it began to rain. Visibility became atrocious, but they carried on regardless. Then, Xander’s superior officer slipped in the mud. The bomb was only partly disengaged and went off. Thanks to the efforts of the bomb squad, the bomb didn’t destroy the hospital or injure anyone inside. But Xander’s superior officer was killed and Xander returned home to California with burns and a broken ankle. For Xander at least, the war was over.

Xander’s return made Buffy rest a little easier. He was home safely- his burns would heal and his bones would mend. She found herself calling on a growing number of wives and mothers whose husbands and sons had been killed. She wept with them, for them. She persuaded the Flynn family to set up a fund for war widows and then she campaigned tirelessly for the fund. Life became a routine that she found increasingly easy to handle. She didn’t stop thinking of Angel, and her fears didn’t lessen. But she found herself able to enjoy her few pleasures in life again- the movies with Willow and Xander, the children at the playgroup. Some, but not all, of the sparkle returned to her eyes and her smile became brighter. She found that she could live without him. She just didn’t want to.

The news that she had been dreading, the news that kept her awake nights, arrived on September 25th 1942. Angel’s mother Mary telephoned the Summers house just as she was about to head out to the canteen. Mrs Flynn sounded strained. Perhaps it was about the tea dance in two weeks time. She leapt into her mother’s car, disregarding petrol shortages for the first time since war began- she needed to be at the canteen soon. She raced through Sunnydale and up the hill to the Flynn estate on Crawford Street.

“Hello Buffy, dear.” She was surprised to be greeted at the door by Mrs Flynn herself, not Robert the butler. She examined Mrs Flynn’s face carefully, but she could only find a little puffiness around her eyes. For the first time, anxiety crept into Buffy’s heart.

“What’s the matter, Mrs Flynn?” She asked, her voice trembling. She prayed that it was only about the tea dance in two weeks’ time. Mrs Flynn took Buffy’s arm and led her into the drawing room.

“We received a telegram this morning.” Mrs Flynn began. Buffy, her heart pounding wildly, sank into an overstuffed leather chair.

“Angel... He’s been reported missing.” Mrs Flynn continued. Buffy almost sighed with relief.

“Only missing? So he’s not dead?”

“Well... They were really terribly vague on the telephone, security and all such matters, you see. Apparently, he's missing but they're sure he must be dead.” Mrs Flynn paused in a rare moment of public emotion.

“Yes?”

“They said that Angel was driving and would have been...”

“I understand.” Buffy’s heart sank completely before shattering into tiny little pieces. She quickly thanked Mrs Flynn for telling her personally before excusing herself and driving back to Revello Drive in record time.

At first, Buffy didn’t leave her room. For days Joyce took food up, and her concerned frown morphed into a worried frown as the trays came back untouched. It was, in fact, a full eight days before Buffy emerged from the darkness of her room. It was on the eighth day that a still limping Xander arrived, marched up the stairs and dragged her out into the sunlight. She was pale, drawn and unbelievably thin after her voluntary starvation. The sun made her eyes sting and water after so long in a room with thick curtains shutting out both day and night.

“Buffy...” Xander began. She stared up at him and in that moment he realised that, no matter how devastated he was at the loss of his best friend, it was infinitesimal compared to how she felt.

“They never found him. Maybe he’s still alive.” Xander told her softly. He truly believed that Angel would return eventually. He wasn’t dead, Xander told himself.

“Maybe.” Buffy turned to him. “I always thought I’d know when... But I didn’t. I thought it was about the tea dance next week.”

“Well, there you go. There’s always hope.” Xander agreed reassuringly.

“Hope. OK.” Buffy said softly. They sat silently for a few moments before Buffy stood up.

“I have to get to the canteen.” She said, flashing Xander a bright smile. Sad, but bright. She would pull herself out of this even if it killed her.

Part Two

Buffy resumed her work at the canteen, at the playgroup, selling war bonds. In fact, had the residents of Sunnydale not heard about the town’s favourite son, they might have imagined Buffy’s weeklong absence to be due to illness of some kind. They didn’t say it, but everyone in Sunnydale understood how much Buffy loved Angel, and how much it must be killing her inside. Everyone noticed how his ring still hung loyally around her neck, like a talisman to ward off evil and sadness.

“Buffy! Over here!” Willow shouted. Buffy was hard at work serving hungry soldiers when her flame haired friend arrived.

“Hi Will!” She called back breathlessly. She smiled sweetly at the soldier before turning her attention to her friend.

“There’s a double feature on at the Sun in twenty minutes.”

“What’s playing?”

“Nothing new. The Adventures of Robin Hood followed by The Philadelphia Story.”

“A curious combination.”

“I know. Prints of new movies are going to bigger movie theatres first. War on, and all.”

“Yeah.”

“Will you come?”

“Pass up Errol Flynn and James Stewart? I don’t think so!” Buffy grinned. She pulled off her apron and folded it loosely in her arms.

“I was meant to be finished twenty minutes ago anyway.”

“I know. I was waiting outside for you.”

“Sorry. I lose track of time.”

“I know. It’s OK.” Willow smiled and took her friend’s arm. “Xander’s foot is getting better.”

“He told me.” Buffy said. Sensing that she was about become deep in thought, Willow decided to perk her friend up.

“OK, now, who would you choose: Errol Flynn or James Stewart?” She said. Buffy fixed her with a stare which said ‘How can you choose?’ and then burst into a fit of giggles.

They settled into a routine whereby Willow would collect Buffy from the canteen and then they would go to the movies, or to the beauty parlour, or to the park, or to anywhere that Buffy could take her mind off Angel, the war, and life itself.

“Buffy!” Willow called from the doors of the canteen as she did whenever she came for her friend. As always, Buffy hung up her apron and went over to her friend.

“Hey Will.”

“Hi Buffy, I want you to meet someone.” Willow said, her eyes sparkling. Buffy privately groaned. For the last couple of weeks, since roughly two months since the telegram came, Willow had been introducing her to all manner of eligible young men. Didn’t Willow understand that she only wanted Angel? And since Angel was dead, she didn’t want anyone at all.

“This is Captain Finn. He’s at Camp Sunnydale.” Willow introduced Buffy to a tall, gawky young man with dirty blond hair in a severe crew cut. Clearly this young man was a stickler for regulations. He grinned widely at her, grabbing her hand and shaking it vigorously.

“It’s great to meet you Miss Summers! Willow told me all about you!” Buffy managed a weak smile.

“Really? You’re a mystery to me.” Captain Finn laughed nervously.

“Do you have a first name, Captain?” Buffy asked.

“Uh, yes. Riley. Captain Riley Finn.” Buffy just nodded. Willow, sensing that her plan was failing, prompted Riley.

“Riley suggested to me that we all go to the movies.”

“Really?” Buffy asked, knowing full well what Willow was suggesting. She glared at her friend, but Willow was oblivious.

“Uh, sure. Why don’t we, huh Buffy?” Riley stammered. Buffy sighed heavily. She could decline, as she had every time previously. But then she would have to endure Willow’s pleading, her listing every reason why Buffy should go out with Riley. Then of course, the lecture about moving on. She was completely exhausted physically, mentally and emotionally. So, she nodded in agreement.

“Sure.” Riley beamed in delight and took Buffy’s arm.

Quite some time later, Buffy returned home. She had actually had an all right time. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either. In fact, after some more persuasion from Willow, Buffy had agreed to meet with Riley again on Friday night. A date. A date with someone who wasn’t Angel. As she stared at the smiling, handsome face staring at her from her bedside table, Buffy’s heart broke all over again. A couple of tears dropped from her eyes, but she refused to cry again. In that moment, Buffy realised that she had to move on. She realised that her heart would always belong, in its entirety, to Angel. She realised that she would never love anyone like Angel, if she ever loved again at all. But she also realised that she must move on for the sake of her sanity. And she hoped that Angel would forgive her.

Some time passed. The ring remained hanging loyally around Buffy’s neck, but every Friday night Riley took her to the movies. He took her on long drives through the countryside surrounding Sunnydale, often bringing picnic baskets. He celebrated Christmas that year with the Summers family at Joyce’s insistence. He clearly adored Buffy, although she didn’t- couldn’t- love him as he wanted her to. Riley still didn’t know about Angel. She had told him about her boyfriend who had died in the war, but little else. She couldn’t face the Angel talk with Riley, not yet. Perhaps not ever. How was she to tell her supposed boyfriend that she would never love him, and that her love was dead on the battlefields of war torn Europe?

Joyce liked Riley- a fine, upstanding citizen, a boy doing his bit for his country, but in no hurry to get himself killed. He was a typical All-American boy from Iowa who called everyone ‘Sir’ or ‘Ma’am’. He was entirely unlike Angel, who was rich, worldly, almost exotic by Sunnydale standards, and of course heroic. And dead. She had always had her misgivings about Angel and Buffy, especially at the intensity of their relationship right from the start. She was glad Buffy had met a nice young man like Riley who would never break her heart. Of course, what Joyce would never understand was that Riley would never break Buffy’s heart because her heart was never his.

New Year passed with celebrations, if muted, hoping for peace. But Buffy suspected that 1943 would bring much of the same, pain, death and other atrocities that were a part of war. She watched newsreels and read newspapers. In January 1943 she read that 19 year old girls in Britain, younger than her- 20 that January- would be called up for service. Still, in many ways, the war remained distant. After all, living in a town as beautiful and peaceful as Sunnydale, how could one dream that in other parts of the world, there were people dying in their hundreds and thousands? Even when, that February, a Japanese submarine shelled the California coast, the war remained distant. In Hollywood, the Academy Awards carried on regardless in March. The patriotic Mrs. Miniver won best picture and its star, Greer Garson went on for five and a half minutes in her best actress speech. Life went on, but certainly not better. The war was becoming ever more intense in Europe, the Pacific, and in North Africa, the British Eighth Army took Tripoli. But the war was far from won, and Xander knew this better than most people in the town, having seen it himself, and so when his foot healed, he approached Buffy with trepidation.

“I’m going back.” He said. They were standing on the boardwalk watching the sun go down after catching a movie.

“What?” She turned on him angrily. He looked down at the floor. It killed him to have yet another man leave her, even if it was just him.

“I’m going back. I’m going to England.”

“They made you?” She demanded. He shook his head.

“No. I requested a return to my commission.”

“Why?” She screeched, ignoring the group of society matrons who had stopped to wonder why the usually dignified, mature young lady was shouting at the top of her voice.

“They need my help. I need to help.”

“Why?” She asked, softly this time.

“I told you.”

“You want to be a hero.” She said unquestioningly.

“I guess.” Xander admitted. Buffy then got angry again.

“Yeah? Well Angel was a hero! And you know what? Angel’s dead! Fine, go help people, go save lives, go be a hero! But don’t expect me to cry when they bring you back home in a pine box!” She screamed before storming away.

The rainy April day that the newly re-uniformed Xander Harris left for England, Buffy refused to see him off, instead choosing to work all day at the munitions factory. Xander gave Willow a letter to give to Buffy, simply telling her that he understood how she felt. The truth was, and he knew it, that Buffy couldn’t bear to say another goodbye, she couldn’t risk losing someone else. The relief she had felt seeing him, her best friend, return safely was now replaced once more with fear and dread. He knew that, and only his knowledge of the horrors in Europe made him leave her again. He would never admit it, but leaving his best friends again broke his heart.

Buffy began to cling closely to Riley, terrified that he would leave too. If he noticed her changed demeanour, he didn’t say anything. In fact, Riley welcomed her new closeness. He had often despaired of the distance she kept herself at and now imagined that she had removed that distance. He grew confident as Buffy spent more and more time with him- almost to the exclusion of everything else. His ego told him that it was because she loved him. It was certainly a flattering concept. Buffy was, after all, the most popular, well known, beloved young woman in Sunnydale. There had even been light-hearted jokes that Buffy was in the running to be the next Mayor of Sunnydale. And she had chosen him. He wasn’t to know that she had chosen him for lack of options, that she clung to him only because she had an almost crippling fear of being abandoned again. He applied to stay at Camp Sunnydale after she asked him to, taking a desk job instead of going off to fight. He imagined that she loved him so much that she wanted him to stay close, but he was mistaken.

Time passed and Riley grew more mistaken. He decided that the only thing left to do was to propose marriage to her. He didn’t know that another, better man ad once done the same thing, and he certainly didn’t know that the ring that still hung on the chain around Buffy’s neck was his ring. He didn’t know that, in her heart and in her mind, Buffy considered herself to be engaged, even if her fiancé was no longer there.

The day Riley chose to propose was also the year anniversary of hearing the news that Angel was dead- September 25th 1943. She couldn’t help but mope around the house that day. Joyce knew the root of Buffy’s troubles, but wisely didn’t say anything. She hoped that Buffy’s date with Riley that night would make up for it, cheer her up. At six o’clock, with the precision that comes from being in the army with only a desk to keep him occupied, Riley arrived, dressed smarter than usual in his full dress uniform.

“Good evening, Mrs Summers. Is Buffy ready?”

“Yes. Come on in.” She led the way into the living room.

“Why, you look very handsome today, Riley.”

“Thank you ma’am.” In a moment, Buffy came down the stairs in a black dress Joyce recognised as the one Buffy had worn while in mourning for Angel. But Buffy smiled brightly at her supposed beau and thanked him graciously for the flowers he brought. Then, they were gone, onto their date. Joyce smiled, she did like that boy.

Riley had booked a table at Senor Vitelli’s, the finest restaurant in Sunnydale. Angel had taken Buffy there after her Senior Prom. Then, Riley drove her to the beach and pulled out a blanket for them to sit on. He also had a small hamper containing drinks and snacks. Their only illumination was from the lights of the Country Club not far away.

“Have you had a good evening so far, Buffy?” He asked eagerly hoping to get a resounding yes.

“Yes. It was nice.” Buffy managed. Riley’s heart sank. She was retreating to the old distance she’d had when they first started courting.

“Well, I’m glad. Because I have something to ask you. Something important.” Riley began. He pulled a tiny box from the hamper. He opened the box.

“Buffy Summers, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” He said grandly. Buffy’s eyes widened in horror. She leapt to her feet and ran off down the beach leaving Riley behind, a confused look on his face and a cheap ring in his hand.

After she left Riley, Buffy ran down the beach, almost down to the boardwalk. She collapsed onto the cold, damp sand and cried. She cried for herself and she cried for Angel. She stayed here on the sand for what was probably hours, crying and watching the waves crash onto the beach before receding back into the ocean. Finally she returned home to find Joyce out of her mind with worry. She said she was fine and headed straight for her bed, none the wiser as to the answer she would give Riley. She didn’t love him, but Angel was dead. Did she want to be alone for her entire life?

“Hello Buffy,” A soft, smooth voice called.

“Angel?” She asked frantically. It was too dark to see anything.

“I’m here Buffy, I’m in here.” He said, but still she couldn’t see him.

“Where?”

“I’m in here. I can’t get out. I have to go. I’ll be back but I can’t get out.”

“Angel!”

“I’m here. I’m always here.” Then, his voice faded. Buffy shot up in bed, beads of sweat forming on her brow. What did it mean? It was nonsensical and contradicting. He had to go but he was here? Confused, Buffy fell back down onto her pillows and after much tossing and turning, she fell into a thankfully dreamless slumber.

“Good morning, Buffy.” Joyce said chirpily when her daughter emerged the next morning. She put a plate of pancakes in front of Buffy and hoped that she would explain the previous night to her.

“Did you have a good evening with Riley?”

“It was nice.” Buffy mumbled. She drained her cup of coffee and stood up.

“I have to go.” She really didn’t want to get into the details of the night with her mother.

“What about your breakfast?”

“Not hungry. I’ll see you later, mom.” She mustered a grin from somewhere for her mother’s benefit and then ran out of the house.

She worked at the munitions factory that morning before speeding over to the canteen. She dreaded going in as she knew that in all likelihood Riley would be there. She couldn’t face him, not until she worked out what her decision would be. But of course, as soon as she arrived she was confronted by the sight of Riley and Willow sitting by the window, deep in conversation.

“Buffy!” Willow called. Damn, she’d been spotted. She’d hoped at least to get her coat off before being noticed.

“Oh, hey.” She called back lamely. Riley jumped up and approached her.

“Where did you run off to? I was worried.” He demanded.

“But not worried enough to run after me?” She shot back. She realised that they had a captive audience of lunching soldiers.

“I won’t talk to you about this here.” She said to him quietly.

“Outside then.”

“I have work to do. Not now.”

“When?” Riley said, clearly becoming frustrated.

“Later. I don’t know. Would it kill you to give me some time?” She asked, putting on her apron.

“Fine. Call me. I’ll come running.” Riley said sarcastically before stalking off out the room.

“What did you do that for?” Willow asked.

“He asked me to marry him.” Buffy said through gritted teeth.

“I know. Isn’t it great?”

“No!” Buffy barked back at her angrily.

“Why not?”

“Because of Angel.” Buffy said. She’d expected Willow of all people, to understand. She’d been waiting for Danny Osbourne to return. Now it was Willow’s turn to get angry.

“Yeah? Well, I’ve got news for you, Buffy, Angel is dead!” I’m sorry, I know you loved him, I adored him too, but Angel is dead and you have to move on.”

“No I don’t” Buffy yelled back, no longer caring about the audience.

“Yes you do! I really don’t think Angel would want you to spend your entire life alone.”

“You think so? Well, as you say, Angel is dead,” Buffy spat. “So it only matters what I want. I’d rather die alone with Angel in my heart than live fifty years with someone I don’t love.” Buffy felt tears begin to form and ran from the room.

How did everyone forget so easily? Did they think her so fickle as to give up Angel and take up with Riley without another thought? Didn’t they know her at all? She realised that most people thought what she had with Angel was just a high school romance that would have ended with or without a ward. Well, she’d show them. She knew now what she needed to do.

“Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Flynn.” Buffy said. Mary Flynn smiled kindly at the young woman.

“Not at all. I rather miss our mornings together.” She said. Before Angel went missing, and for a long while afterwards Mrs Flynn had Buffy over for coffee two mornings a week. Since trying to focus on Riley, Buffy had dropped by much less frequently.

“So do I. I need to ask your advice, Mrs Flynn.” Buffy said, recounting the whole story.

“He proposed.” Mrs Flynn said

“Yes.” Buffy looked down, embarrassed. Mrs Flynn took her firmly in her gaze.

“Do you truly believe that Angel is dead?” She asked. Buffy didn’t know how to answer.

“Put it this way, do you think there’s any chance that Angel might return one day?” Buffy nodded. She still thought it. They had never recovered his body or any part of it. Maybe he was still alive, she thought. Mrs Flynn thought for a moment.

“If you believe Angel will come back then I think you have your answer right there.” Mrs Flynn smiled comfortingly at her.

“And if you believe it Buffy, then so do I. I always believe that love had a stronger connection that anyone suspects. It must be the Irish superstition in me. And I expect to see you on Tuesday and Thursday mornings again. I need my gossip.” She laughed.

“OK, Mrs. Flynn. You’re right.” Buffy stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go and see someone.”

“Is Captain Finn available? It’s quite important.” Buffy was now standing at the main gate of Camp Sunnydale.

“Yes ma’am.” The young soldier, surely not more than eighteen, telephoned to Finn’s office.

“If you’ll follow me.” Another soldier appeared to escort Buffy. Riley’s face lit up when he saw Buffy enter his office.

“Hello darling,” He said and she winced, sitting straight down in front of his desk.

“We need to talk. I need to tell you some things.” She said, her face sombre. He sank into his chair, a part of him already knowing the answer to his question.

“I can’t marry you Riley. I’m already engaged.”

“But he died! Willow said he died!”

“Perhaps. But my heart still believes he’ll return. He’s still listed as missing, you know.” She paused. “You see, I never told you how much I love him. I was unfair to you and I’m sorry. The fact is, I still love him and I now know that I always will whether he comes home or not. And I can’t be unfaithful to him and I won’t be unfair to you.” Buffy stood up.

“That’s it?” Riley demanded.

“Yes.”

“You have been unfaithful to your Captain America! You’ve courted me for months!”

“No Riley, I accompanied you to places. I was never really your girlfriend or your sweetheart or your darling.”

“Yes! Yes you were!”

“No.” She decided she needed to be blunt and pulled the chain she always wore from under her sweater. She held the ring up.

“My engagement ring. I’m afraid I was never really yours. I’m sorry Riley.”

“Yes, me too.” He hissed. “Why? Answer me why?”

“I held on to you because I was terrified of being alone again. First Angel, and then I got Xander back but he left again. I could lose anymore people I cared about. And I do care about you Riley. I just don’t love you.” She shuddered. Her own words sounded so cruel in her ears.

“Get out.”

“All right. Good bye Riley.” She said softly, before leaving him alone in his office.

“You what?” Joyce shrieked.

“I said I wouldn’t marry him.” Buffy replied calmly. They were sitting in the kitchen of the Summers house when Buffy dropped her bombshell.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t love him. Because I’m in love with Angel.”

“Angel is dead!”

“We don’t know that for sure.” Buffy said serenely. “We don’t know. Miracles can happen. The Nazis haven’t banned miracles altogether.” She said, remembering the line from Casablanca, one of the many movies she, Willow and Xander had watched at the Sun.

“Yes they have!” Joyce shot back. “You’ve been watching too many movies. Angel won’t come back. Angel is dead. Riley is a good man who isn’t about to run off and get himself killed.”

“Good. I hope he’ll make some girl very happy.”

“Why can’t some girl be you?” Joyce pleaded.

“I’m in love with Angel.” She repeated quietly, before leaving the room.

After breaking off from Riley, Buffy found herself feeling oddly liberated. She no longer had a pretence to keep up, and she found being on her own much more pleasant that her irrational fear had let her believe. She found she now had the time to visit with Mrs. Flynn more often, to go to the movies with Willow and perhaps most importantly, return to her hectic war effort. She had neglected all these things in trying to keep Riley nearby. She returned to doing the rounds of the womens’ groups offering support and asking for donations. She returned to her afternoons at the Sunnydale Playgroup and everyone commented on how well she was doing since that ‘nice Captain Finn’ left. Riley had, five minutes after she exited his office, gone to the base commander and requested a transfer. As it turned out, his services were of more use at a base on the East Coast.

Buffy returned to her early wartime routine which consisted of the canteen, various drives, the Playgroup and work at the munitions factory. But this time, she found herself enjoying and finding worth in what she did. She no longer worked just to get her mind off Angel’s absence or to somehow win the war through paper drives and get him home. She did it now to be use to the bigger war effort and the fascism. She had never really understood the bigger picture before. Recalling once again Casablanca, she realised she had only ever seen the hill of beans- just Angel and herself. Now she saw it all. She opened her eyes to the newsreels and began finally to read between their lines. She open her eyes to the realities and atrocities of war and was appalled. She realised that there were women in Europe being forced into ghettos and camps, most likely then killed. But most importantly to Buffy personally, was the newfound knowledge that, even if Angel did not return, she would have a full, even happy life on her own. She had been so consumed by her fear of being alone that now she was alone, she found it hugely relieving to find it to be a good existence. It would never be as good as being with Angel, but she would survive.

Her twenty-first birthday came only nineteen days after they rang in the new year of 1944. Once again they drank a toast to the end of the war. Yet this time it seemed evermore likely that the war would be over soon. On the 6th July, the Allied forces, combining British, Canadian, American, and Free French troops began Operation Overlord- the long awaited (and one day late, due to the usual British weather) invasion plan in Normandy. The very next day, the British captured Bayeux and five beaches were captured. As they watched reports on the newsreels, Buffy and Willow realised that this would be a turning point of the war. They guess from Xander’s letters that he was probably involved there, and as soon as the movie finished, they ran to St. Monica’s church to pray fervently for their friend. They watched as German generals were replaced rapidly, as Caen was reduced to mere rubble before the allies finally captured it. By the end of August, De Gaulle was back in Paris. By the end of October, Aachen was the first German town taken. As was expected, the Germans fought back, but the allies were flush with victory and the push into Europe from the west, east and south continued on as Sunnydale watched from the front pages of newspapers and the velvet seats of the Sun Cinema.

Buffy celebrated her twenty-second birthday in January of 1945- the latest of many birthdays celebrated without Angel. But unlike her nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first birthdays, she managed to have a good time. The children at the playgroup had thrown her a party in the morning, complete with balloons and cake. Of course by the time she had handed out cake to them, there was none left for her, but she didn’t mind. They had played all kinds of birthday party games before she then headed to the canteen, where the soldiers all sang Happy Birthday to her. The sight of fifty or so grown men in khaki uniforms enthusiastically singing a loud, horrendously off-key version of the song would remain with her forever. In fact, the photographer for the Sunnydale News had snapped a shot of it, and promised to give her a copy. Then she had a quiet dinner at Senor Vitelli’s with Willow, Joyce and Mrs. Flynn. They had celebrated her birthday and drank a toast to 1945, which had begun just nineteen days earlier, and all hoped fervently that 1945 would be a year of peace. This time, after the victories of 1944, they could see victory, and more importantly, peace in the near distance.

On 30th April 1945, Hitler and his wife of less than a day Eva Braun committed suicide in his bunker. Then on 7th May, General Jodl signed the unconditional surrender of Germany, with all operations to cease 1 minute after midnight on the 8th May, a date which became immediately known as VE Day. But despite celebrations on a huge scale, Sunnydale couldn’t relax just yet. Then the Enola Gay dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima on 6th August. The Japanese surrender came quickly after that, and for the first time in years, the people of Sunnydale and everywhere across the world were able to discover what peace felt like.

Part Three

The plans for the soon famous victory party began small. Buffy and Willow simply started inviting people to the scheduled return of Xander and several other Sunnydale men in the forces. This was due to be held just before the weather turned cold, and it turned out to be just as well. News always had travelled fast in Sunnydale and so many people wanted to come to the party that it became impossible to find a place big enough. Until, that is, Buffy came up with the solution:

“What about the beach?” The mayor agreed to give permission and the Sunnydale Victory Beach Party began the planning stages. The people of Sunnydale, who had given so much during the war, now gave for peace. Senor Vitelli donated food from his restaurant and waiters to serve it. Sunnydale High School provided tables and chairs for hundreds of people. The Sunnydale Women’s Institute supplied even more food and drinks and more people to serve. Joyce Summers and the gallery donated decorations while the hardware store gave outdoor electric lights for when the sun went down. The remaining men at Camp Sunnydale provided the labour force to set it all. And at the centre, organising it all as she had for the entire duration of the war, was Buffy. Her heart was filled with joy at the newfound peace, while her heart was also broken at the loss of Angel. Xander would return. Daniel Osbourne, Willow’s old high school sweetheart, would return. Larry the jock would return, Hogan Martin would return, Jonathon the brain would return. Angel would not. Many of Sunnydale’s brightest young men would not return. Even the Mayor’s son Richard Jr. had perished at Anzio. But for now, Buffy would not think about this. Now, it was time to celebrate.

The party began in the early afternoon but by the time the sun began to set, Xander had not yet arrived. Buffy had been told he was arriving at the airstrip at Camp Sunnydale before being driven down to the party. He should have arrived already, according to the Colonel at Camp Sunnydale. His family were all there, ready to greet their heroic son. Of course, true to form, Rory Harris was so drunk already that he’d mistaken Mrs. Whitaker’s chair for his nephew.

“Buffy! Buffy!” Willow cried out. Buffy looked up from ladling punch to see a Jeep pull into the parking lot at the top of the beach.

“He’s here!” Someone, Buffy guessed Xander’s sister, called. Buffy stood, not wanting to run. The light was fading greatly by now and she strained to see across the beach in the dying sunlight. Silence descended upon the entire party as everyone turned to see the passengers in the Jeep get out. The first was unmistakably Xander- the horrors of war and his injuries not able to take the bounce from his step. He jumped down onto the sand and ran to hug Willow, then his mother. Then he grabbed Buffy and threw her up in the air to make her laugh.

“I said I’d be back.” He said, before then running to his sister.

Buffy then turned her attention back to the Jeep. The little guy who got out was Danny Osbourne, who also headed for Willow. Buffy smiled. Regardless of all her attempts to set Buffy up, Willow had waited for Danny all this time. Unexpectedly, a third figure got out of the car. The light was truly dying now, and Buffy strained to see, wondering who it could possibly be. Whoever it was walked slowly, a slight limp evident. He was tall, commanding even just in shadow. As the Jeep pulled away, it’s headlights caught the young man’s face and Buffy thought her heart would explode insider her chest. She couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t. Whoever it was continued down the beach towards the party. Then, someone began turning on the lights. The young soldier was then illuminated entirely.

“ANGEL!” She screamed, finally believing what she’d seen. He grinned and she shot towards him.

“Angel! Angel!” She shrieked, launching herself at him.

“Buffy,” He breathed softly, holding her tightly.

“Angel, you’re alive!”

“I seem to be.” He joked. She swatted him on the arm.

“You’re back.” She said. He nodded, smiling. Suddenly, everyone at the party began to applaud and cheer. Then, he kissed her.

“Is it really you?” She asked, probably for the thousandth time. They had moved away from the party and were now settled onto the sand further down the beach.

“Yes, Buffy.” Angel laughed a little.

“Are you all right?” She asked as his laugh died almost immediately. He had a haunted look in his eyes she’d noticed straight away. She’d hoped it was just nerves at being scrutinised by so many people at the party. But now they were alone and the look remained. She realised that the war had left Angel with more scars than just those visible.

“What did you do?”

“In the war, you mean?” He asked, getting her meaning straight off as always.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I got captured first. My unit was parachuted into occupied France, a top secret mission, you know the kind. Well anyway, we were dropped in the wrong sector and those of us who didn’t get hung when our parachutes got caught in the trees were captured by the Germans.”

“Top secret. Is that why they told Mrs Flynn you were in a car crash?”

“Probably.” His brow furrowed at the thought of his mother being told he was dead. “But they thought we were all dead. Only three of us survived to be taken to one of the German prisoner of war camps. A stalag.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t know if you know this, but it’s an officer’s duty to try and escape. So we tried. Josh and I. He was one of the guys in my unit. We tried to escape so many times I’m amazed that they didn’t throw us in the Cooler permanently.”

“Cooler?”

“Solitary confinement.” Angel translated from the army slang.

“Oh.” She shuddered at the thought of Angel all on his own in one of those little concrete rooms.

“Wasn’t that bad. I got out of having to do anything. I could just sit there for days and think about you.” He grinned at her, the old Angel shining through for a moment.

“Well, then there was a bigger, more organised escape attempt. A tunnel.”

“We heard a story about the nazis killing a lot of men who escaped in a tunnel. Was that you?”

“No. I know you’re thinking of the fifty men from Stalag Luft III. They were airmen. And that was only last year. And they put us in a makeshift camp in France, not Germany.”

“Oh. Did you get out then?”

“Yep. Ten of us did. We split up and went off any way we could. Some took the train, some walked, one guy stole a car. I found a motorbike which I liberated from the German army. It meant I could take off across fields instead of using roads. Well, I made it to the English channel eventually and was able to get back to England.”

“Wow.”

“Not that great.” Angel said modestly. “The bike ran out of petrol halfway there. I ended up walking for the better part of two days before I could get onto a train.”

“There were no stations for two days?”

“Not that weren’t swarming with SS.” He said. “I jumped off the train just before the last stop and walked the rest of the way. I found the local Resistance fighters and they got me food- which I hadn’t had for some time. Then, they got me onto a boat to England.”

“There were boats to England even during the war?”

“No. Not that were meant to go there anyway. A local Resistance man, I’ll never forget his name: Michel-Pierre, had a fishing boat which we sneaked past the Germans at night time. The hard part was convincing the British Home Guard that I wasn’t a German spy.” Angel smiled wryly at the memory of somewhat elderly British men cross-examining him before finally handing him over to the army. Who were just as thorough.

“Then what?”

“Well, I was already listed as MIA and nobody believed I was alive. After talking with MI5 and the army, I became a spy.”

“A spy?”

“Yeah. It was easy. We switched my status to killed in action. If everyone thought I was dead, I didn’t exist. I took on a new identity entirely which allowed me to spy for the allies.”

“I was perfect. I can speak Italian, French, German. After almost a year in a German POW camp, I was even fluent in German colloquialisms and swearing. I was first parachuted into Sicily to get some information on troop movements and public feeling in Italy. Then I was sent to Greece, to the islands. But I couldn’t speak any Greek, I didn’t even look Greek, so as soon as they got another guy in, I was sent right into the Third Reich itself.”

“Into Germany?” Buffy’s heart began pounding as she realised exactly how much danger Angel had been in.

“Yes.”

“Was it terribly dangerous?”

“More for the people living there. The German people were treated as badly as the French or the British or the Italians. Possibly worse.”

“Then what?”

“When D-Day was launched, I stayed in Germany to relay troop movements and such. But as it became clear that the operation was a success and it got too dangerous for anyone to be in Berlin, I travelled to the front and joined in the fighting. Then, we liberated Dachau.”

“Dachau.” The name of the concentration camp echoed in her mind and made her shiver.

“Don’t tell me what you saw.” She whispered, understanding why the haunted look in his eyes remained. He had seen true horror. Everyone had heard about the concentration camps.

“I wasn’t going to. But everyone should know what happened. We found rooms full of shoes and suitcases and glasses and clothes that were taken from the people there. And the biggest crematorium I’ve ever seen.” Angel began to shake as he remembered what he saw that day.

“Then we continued into Germany.” A sob rose up in Angel’s chest. “You have no idea of the horrors I’ve seen. And I don’t want you to know.” Buffy nodded solemnly. After everything, he was still trying to protect her. He was her hero. She put her arms around him and he began to cry for all the horrors, all the injustice, cruelty and murder a war provides. He cried for the friends he lost, for the dead piled up in railway carriages at Dachau, for all the people who would remain forever scarred by the war. In that moment he realised that there were never survivors of a war, only people who lived.

They returned to the party some time later, where Buffy knew Angel would immediately be grabbed and taken to regale them all with tales of his heroic survival. He was, and she found herself watching him with a bittersweet smile. She had been eighteen years old when he left for the war and now she was twenty two and much older even than that. She wasn’t the young, carefree high school graduate he had left behind. She was Buffy Summers, one of the most valuable members of the Sunnydale community, a mature young woman she hadn’t realised she could be. These deep thoughts were pushed from her mind by the sound of Mayor Wilkins’ voice calling for attention. Slowly silence fell upon the people.

“I have been asked to say a few words on this celebratory occasion. Today we not only welcomed back loved members of our community from serving on the front lines, but we also celebrated the end of a long, hard war and the victory of democracy and freedom over fascism and oppression.” He paused to let everyone applaud and shout approval.

“We have all lost relatives, friends, loved ones to this war. My own eldest son was killed in battle, fighting for freedom. But his life was not given in vain. Had we not risen to the challenge, Adolf Hitler and his evil message would have spread across the globe. As our own President said, we would not have survived as an oasis of democracy in a desert of dictatorship. We celebrate those brave young men tonight. And we celebrate those brave young men who, we are thankful, came back to us.” He paused again for applause and Buffy realised that, up and down the country, similar jubilant patriotic messages were being spread.

“And I would like to personally thank a young woman without whom, Sunnydale itself would not have survived this war. She was eighteen years old when the war first reached us, but that didn’t stop her from organising us all into an efficient war effort. She organised the Sunnydale Playgroup so that mothers could work not only for the war effort, but to feed their children with their husbands away. She organised the canteen which kept our locally stationed servicemen fed, watered and entertained. I don’t think it’s too big an exaggeration to say that Buffy Summers’ hard work helped the allies win the war.” There was an explosion of applause and hooting, screaming and shouting of the name Buffy.

Angel hugged her tightly, proudly. He still had no idea of the extent of what she’d done in Sunnydale, although Xander had given him an idea.

“You’re a hero, Buffy.”

“So are you.” She said over the din.

“Oh, I have something for you.” He said. He reached into the pocket of his greatcoat and pulled out a small box.

“I found this at Asprey’s in London just after I got back from Germany.” He told her, opening the box. Inside was the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen, gold set with a dazzling diamond, which was surrounded by a cluster of emeralds. The stones twinkled in the dim lights on the beach.

“I promised.” He explained simply. She smiled sweetly and pulled out the chain around her neck from under her sweater. On it hung the ring he had given her in June 1941. Now it was October 1945.

“So did I.” She said. He smiled back, for the first time without a thought for anything else.

“So you’ll marry me then?”

“Yeah. Had no better offers.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You know, you’re a pretty lucky guy.” She said, taking his hand and leading him down the beach away from the throng.

“I am?”

“Sure. Lots of handsome soldiers wanted to marry Sunnydale’s Golden Girl.”

“Oh they did, did they?”

“Sure. Well there was Riley...”

“Riley? Who’s Riley?”

“I’ll tell you later. First we should go see your mother...” She said, letting go of his hand and breaking into a run.

Mrs Flynn had been at the beach party earlier, but had retired early, telling Buffy she was feeling a little under the weather. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure she would be able to stand there and be pleased for Mrs Harris, or Mrs Osbourne. She wasn’t getting her son back, and although she was glad for the mothers who had, it was still hard. She’d held out the hope that she would at least receive news by now. She had hoped he was in a POW camp or something, but they had all been liberated. He would have been in touch by now. For the first time in her well-brought up life, Mrs Flynn allowed herself to truly break down and sob.

Buffy’s car slid up to the front entrance of the Flynn mansion. Angel stepped out, his leg still troubling him a little. He looked up at the large, finely made English oak door that was so familiar to him. Buffy fished around in her bag for the key Mrs Flynn had given her. She always rang the bell, but this time she wanted it to be a surprise.

“Mrs Flynn?” She called out as she and Angel entered the hall.

“Buffy?” Mrs Flynn’s cultured voice floated into the hall and to Angel’s ears, which found themselves immeasurably comforted by the sound.

“May I speak to you?” Buffy called.

“Of course. I’m in the drawing room, dear.” Buffy took Angel’s hand and led him to the doorway. She stopped him there, but went in herself.

“Hello Buffy dear. Is everything OK?” Mrs Flynn asked. To Buffy’s well-trained eye it seemed that Mrs Flynn had been crying.

“Well no ma’am. I’m afraid I have to give you back your ring.”

“But Angel gave it to you. It’s your engagement ring.”

“No Mrs. Flynn. Not anymore.”

“What? What happened? Did some soldier propose again?”

“Sort of. I have a new ring. This fine young hero gave it to me.” Angel recognised this as his cue and walked into the room. His mother’s mouth dropped open and the ring Buffy had just given her fell to the floor.

“Angel?” She asked softly.

“Hi Mom. Miss me?” He joked before hugging her tightly.

“Don’t joke, Angelus!” She said sternly, using his entire first name. “I’m extremely displeased with you.” She said, a couple of tears slipping from her eyes. Angel’s face fell. His mother was angry with him? Then, the most surprising thing happened. Mary Flynn grinned. Angel looked shocked.

“I’m afraid I’ve been spending too much time with Buffy.” Mrs Flynn said, laughing.

“Buffy!” Angel exclaimed. “You’ve turned my mother into a comedian!”

“I try.” Buffy grinned, remembering the staid, prim, austere woman Mrs Flynn had once been. Angel beamed brightly. After everything that had happened, all he had seen, it made him so glad to see that if some things changed, it wasn’t always for the worse.

After all was said and all was done, after those Nazis who survived were held accountable at Nuremberg and those Nazis who died were vilified, life returned, but not to normal. Over one hundred thousand people had been killed by the bomb at Hiroshima, hundreds of thousands of troops and civilians on both sides had been killed in six years of war. But in Sunnydale, everyone tried to gain some semblance of living. Angel and Buffy formally announced their engagement, as did Willow and Danny Osbourne, who had come back from the forces with a nickname: Oz. In fact, they were lucky to be home so soon. Many soldiers had to remain in Europe as part of the occupying force, many were still caught up in the bureaucracy of demobilisation. Many returned with limbs missing, eyes, ears, anything. Everyone had their scars. Some returned with war brides, women they’d fallen in love with while Over There. Many young British women now made their homes in Canada or America after the war with their new husbands. Many of these would find their way back across the Atlantic within a few years. Many people found themselves having to rebuild their lives entirely from scratch. In England, bombed out houses were replaced with cheap prefabs, while in Germany people found their country divided into four sectors: British, French, Russian and American. And in Japan, the horror of nuclear war hit home as those not killed by the Bomb came down with mystery illnesses or were left permanently scarred by their burns. America, compared to almost the entire rest of the world had got off light.

Buffy and Angel married at St. Monica’s Church in the Summer of 1946 after his scars had healed and his leg mended. On their wedding night, Buffy discovered the patchwork of scars across Angel’s body- the parts she had not seen before. Willow and Oz were married two weeks later, while Xander stunned everyone by sending for his wife, a young British woman by the name of Anya.

In 1949, Angel and Buffy’s first child was born. He was named Joshua, after Angel’s close comrade during the war, who had made it out of the POW camp but perished at Omaha Beach. In 1951 their daughter Mary was born, followed finally in 1952 by Angelus Flynn Jr. Their family and their lives, were complete at last.

Normandy, France. 1995.

The sun was shining, casting a bright glow onto the sands below the group of American students. Among them was sixteen year old Lilyella Flynn, daughter of Angelus Flynn, Jr. To honour the fiftieth anniversary of VE-Day, Sunnydale High School had held an essay competition all about the Second World War. The twenty lucky winners were then given places on a school trip to Normandy: The beaches and battlefields of the D-Day invasion.

Lilyella’s essay had won first prize overall. This pleased her most because what she really wanted to be was a writer. When the competition had first been announced, she had no idea where to begin. Then her grandfather had told her the story of the Flynns during the war. He found the trunk of things from wartime, including a large box of medals he’d won. After all, Angel Flynn had won not only the Purple Heart and the Distinguished Service medal, but the Soldier’s Medal and had even been awarded the Medal of Honor. He told her all about his service in the war, but the winning element of her essay had been the work on her grandmother, Buffy Summers Flynn, five times Lady Mayor of Sunnydale. She won her place on the trip easily and now stood, hand shielding her eyes from the bright sun, on the cliffs above Omaha Beach.

“Lily!” A voice called. She turned and grinned. When Angel had asked to accompany the group on the trip, Principal Snyder had been only too happy to accommodate him.

“What?” She asked.

“We’re going now.” He reminded her. She looked up to see everyone else getting back on the coach.

“Oh good. Because we don’t spend enough time on the coach.” She said sarcastically. But really, she was relieved he was here. He was, even at 74, youthful at heart. In many ways he was in better health now than he was fifty years ago and he moved with youthful vigour. His eyes still sparkled and his grin was still bright. Her friends were not on the trip and she would have found it rather lonely without him.

In truth, Angel was glad to be in France. While Buffy had always been happy to remain in Sunnydale, in California, he had picked up a love of travelling during his time in Europe. In the last fifty years he had dragged Buffy to all kinds of exotic places- Egypt, Greece, Argentina, Japan, everywhere he could find. His passport was full of interesting stamps and visas. This time, however, Buffy remained in Sunnydale while Angel told the people on the trip all kinds of tales of his times during the war. When they arrived at the American Cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mer, while most of the group were content to mill around, marvelling at the size of the cemetery and the number of graves, Angel went straight to the directory- he was looking for someone.

The cemetery was both beautiful and grotesque in its size and prettiness. It was incredibly well kept, neat lawns and clean paths, yet the number of grave markers- crosses or Stars of David, only served to remind visitors how many people died on the Normandy beaches alone. Angel and Lilyella walked down the paths in silence reverence, counting, finding what they were looking for. Then, a simple white stone cross announced in simple writing: JOSHUA GARDNER.

“He was my best friend in those years.” Angel explained. “We served together, we were captured together and we escaped together. While I rode a motorbike to freedom, Josh went by train. He had to bail out halfway when German guards began to inspect passengers. But he got back to England not long after I did. We spent a while together in the military hospital recovering. Then when I went to Sicily for intelligence, he returned to the army. He was in the first wave of soldiers who landed on Omaha.” Angel paused for a moment, suddenly overwhelmed by where he was and why he was there.

“He was the same age as Buffy.” He told Lily. She listened silently as he told her stories of the two of them, before, during and after spending time in a POW camp.

“You know, I joined the army to be a hero.” He laughed hollowly, a bitter sound Lily didn’t think her grandfather capable of.

“I left Buffy, I left everything to fight a war and be a hero. But the only heroes are lying here.” Angel said softly.

“You’re my hero.” Lily whispered, taking her grandfather’s hand.

“I am?”

“Sure. There’s more to being a hero than dying with valour on the battlefield.” She told him. “You wouldn’t have been much of hero if you’d have left Grandma all on her own, would you?”

“I guess not.”

“You helped. One man can make all the difference.” She said, unconsciously repeating his words from so many years ago.

“He can, huh?”

“Yeah, he can.” Lily smiled. “Come on. We’re off to Arromanches. Then, Mr Simon said we’re off to see the Bayeux Tapestry.”

“Yeah?” Angel smiled slightly.

“Have you seen it before?”

“No. If you recall, last time I was in this neck of the woods, I was rather busy.” He joked.

“Granddad?”

“Yeah?”

“Was life the same when you got back home?”

“Lily, life was never the same. Not for anyone.” He said solemnly. “But we survived.”

He took her hand and together, they walked away into the sunshine of the afternoon.

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