DISCLAIMER: Man, this gets boring after a while. Not mine. No profit. Don't sue.
TIMELINE: About five years from now.
SPOILERS: Mmmm... none, really... maybe Becoming, and a bit of Sanctuary & The Yoko Factor
SYNOPSIS: The greatest battle of the End of Days is in full swing. The Slayer goes to face Evil itself, in the caves outside of Sunnydale. What will she sacrifice, to win?
DISTRIBUTION: Well, jeeze... anybody who asks! :)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is mostly plotless, and not very good, fluff. I wrote it last night in about an hour, inspired by... oh, you're gonna love this... In My Heart by Phil Collins. Dumb, huh? But, hey, I was in the mood for something besides my most recent wave of angsty and angry fics... And I needed to come up with something not smutty so my younger readers wouldn't draw and quarter me... ;) Also, be aware that I wrote this based on rumors/spoilers I heard about The Yoko Factor before I saw it. Turns out, none of this stuff happened. Yay! :)
FEEDBACK: Well, YEAH...
RATING: PG-13
DEDICATION: To Chiefseattle from the alt.tv.angel newsgroup, for his insightful and thought-provoking review of "Sanctuary". He really gave me more hope than I ever dreamed was possible, right now, and has renewed my faith in Joss as an excellent storyteller!

Buffy could barely see through the thick smoke pouring out of the mouth of the cave, but it hardly mattered. She knew exactly where she needed to go. Demons, shredded on the blade of her sword, splattered in a gory rain before her forward progress. The evil washing down from the deepest heart of the cavern was thicker, even, than the smoke, and she followed it like a beacon to its core.

That was what tonight was really about -- the ultimate battle of Good vs. Evil. Tonight, only one army would emerge victorious, and have its influence on the rest of the world. Either Heaven or Hell would rule, based on the outcome of the battle she now marched toward, choking equally on the smoke and the evil.

The battle below the hills was only background noise -- a distraction from the true conflict -- the true center -- that was about to come to a final, explosive confrontation.

She heard nothing... saw nothing, as she cut a violent swath through the minions sent to guard the cave from her entrance. Bodyguards to protect the First from her righteous rage. She was about to do the very thing that the first Slayer had truly been born for. Every young woman that sacrificed her life for good led to her, and the duty she was about to perform. Everything she had done... everything that she had lived through, was preparing her for this single moment. Thousands of years... the strength and power of thousands of Slayers... all pulsed through her blood, calling to her soul.

This was it. The end. The reason that Buffy herself was born. She plowed forward through the din to face the core of True Evil.

Buffy felt it in her bones when she climbed the last slow rise in the cave. She had felt it once before, years ago -- the blackest blanket of nothing; of pure, hollow darkness that she had ever encountered. She had come face to face with it that single time, as it attempted to use her life's only love as a weapon against her. But their bond was unbreakable, then -- the First knew that it could not defeat what she and Angel created together... it could not defeat pure love. It had fled before them, gone back to its pit in the darkest recesses of the human heart, and waited, biding its time.

Now, six years later, it came -- done waiting. It knew the wedge that had been driven between the great warriors. It knew that she was no longer as strong as she once had been, without her mate. It knew that the Slayer's champion no longer stood for her, or her for him. And it knew how to use that fact to its advantage.

Together, they were powerful. Alone, they were dead. The time and distance, the anger and resentment between them had weakened the bond that once protected them, and bound it from truly entering the world. The Slayer came to It alone, armed with only her sword, her heart, and her Sacred Duty.

It would not be enough.

Buffy climbed down the slick, rocky slope into the frigid pit below. Pale light set the cavern in an eerily silver glow from a source she couldn't determine. All she knew was that its illumination allowed her to see that the cavern was empty. No demons, no ghost, no First. But she could still feel the evil. Where was it?

"Come on, can we just get this over with? I'd like to get home in time for Teletubbies," she said, her light tone belying the fire that raged in her, battling for control of her heart with the freezing spears of fear that also threatened to stay her hand.

"Are you so eager to meet your end, Slayer?"

The voice came from the seemingly empty shadows, reverberating more and more loudly, until it filled the whole area, pounding into her skull like a hammer. She fought the terrible urge to fall to her knees and cover her ears to block the familiar pitch of the call... the almost soothing, hypnotic timbre... the one voice she could never get out of her mind.

Angel stepped out of the shadows, smiling coldly at her. He wore the black velvet duster she remembered from years ago... the flowing, black silk shirt... the leather pants that were almost brown and black, simultaneously. They hugged his muscular thighs and trim hips, and conjured visions in her mind of both lust, and horrible guilt and fear.

Angelus, not Angel. It couldn't be Angel. Why would he ever agree to speak for the First? He would rather die than help It harm her. He almost had, the last time.

But that was years ago. Who knew what might have changed, in all the years they had been out of touch, angry and hateful toward one another?

He stared at her, his leer never wavering as he watched her shocked reaction, and circled her, like a predator teasing its prey.

"So small. So very small," he said with mock concern, "How can such a little speck of goodness such as yourself ever hope to defeat the greatest Evil?" He continued to circle her, until he reached the point where he started, and stared down at her, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"You know, Buff, I'm struck by the irony of this moment. It's poetry is... rather soothing. To finally be able to return all of the pain you've inflicted on me since I've known you," he shook his head slowly, sadly, "I owe you so many debts. And I always pay my debts. Today, I will repay the largest two: to you, for too many things to count, and to the First, for raising me from the Hell YOU sent me to!" He barked the last, stepping close to her so abruptly, she jumped. Buffy clutched her sword tighter.

"You're not Angel. He would never do this," she told it, but her voice belied her words, revealing her uncertainty.

Angel laughed. "No? Well, I could say there was a time when you would never do anything purposeful to hurt me, as well. But that changed, didn't it? You moved on... you found the ability to inflict pain on me with barely a blink of an eye. You broke away and became something utterly different. Why shouldn't I?"

Buffy was confused. Everything about him was exactly like Angel... the way he carried himself... his eyes, his voice... even the words he chose. Almost the same words she had been taunting herself with since the last time they met, and she had lashed out at him, cruelly wounding him so deeply that she could see his heart break in his eyes.

"No," she protested weakly.

"Oh, yes," Angel hissed, moving slowly closer to her, "I am the First, Buffy. Everything you once thought I was is a lie. I will take my rightful place as Master at last... with this single act -- your destruction. I will spill your blood, and Hell will take over the earth, giving me all that I have ever wanted."

Buffy shivered as if he had physically touched her with his cold words.

"Are you afraid, Slayer?" he asked, giving her a warm smile, "And well you should be. Tell me, Buffy... Tell me how you hate me. I never loved you! I left you! I lied to you! I betrayed you! Tell me! I'll give you that opportunity, before I destroy you!"

He was barely three feet from her, now. So close that she could smell his cool skin, and hear the thick material of his coat as it brushed against his legs. The tingling in her toes became a rush, and the twinge in her gut transformed into a painful cramp.

"Go ahead, lover," he spat, "Give me your last confession. Tell me of your anger. Tell me how I ruined your life. You said I was the worst mistake you ever made? Well, I was. And you are about to discover why."

It hurt to watch him move... it hurt to hear him say these things. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest. She held her sword up, at ready, prepared for his next maneuver. She might die, but she would not let him get away with this... she couldn't... could she?

No. This wasn't Angel. It might be his body, but it wasn't his soul speaking. She wouldn't destroy him.

"No," she said resolutely, "I won't."

Angel's face smiled... an evil crack in his handsome features. When next he spoke, it was still his voice, but once again, it became too big for the space that it filled, and battered her ears.

"Then I suggest you kill me. Because I will most certainly kill you."

Buffy said nothing, and didn't move, allowing only her eyes to track him as he paced languidly about the cavern like a caged leopard.

"I am the First, Slayer," he repeated, "I am all that is dark in all the dimensions. You may only defeat me by destroying this body. Do you think it could be my vessel, if it did not contain darkness equal to mine?"

Buffy flinched. She had known it wasn't Angel, but until this moment, she hadn't understood its game. It needed her hatred and resentment to win. It needed her to ignore her love for Angel and kill him in anger in order to overcome her.

"You have the sword! Take this demon's head, and save your world!" It encouraged her.

She stared at It, frozen. It saw her expected confusion, and laughed.

"To this day, you can still not kill this creature -- your mortal enemy? You are more pathetic than I thought! Defeating you is almost an insult to my power!"

Buffy stood tall. "Why don't you just kill me? You started this war, why don't you finish it?" she spat.

Angel seemed to hesitate, a faraway look passing over his face. And could she see fear, too?

"That is not the way the game is played," he said to her, his smile slowly returning, "You must destroy me, or the war that rages outside will consume this dimension. There is no need for me to lift a finger!"

She stared at the beloved plains of his face... the soft lips that haunted her dreams.

"Destroy this single demon, and you will save the world. Remove its head, Slayer, and your duty will at last be done. You and your race will be free. Forever," It promised her.

Buffy clutched the sword so hard, the markings on the hilt cut into her hand, drawing blood. Could it be so simple? One swing... one fell swoop, and all of this nightmare of blood and monsters would be over?

She let the sword drop to the earth, and sunk to her knees before him.

"No," she said again, "You'll have to destroy me. I won't kill Angel again."

He stared down at her, an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"You would sacrifice your entire race for a single demon?"

Buffy met his cold gaze, "Yes," she said firmly, "But my race will survive. You haven't destroyed us yet, and you never will."

It glared angrily at her. "I will destroy you, warrior! I will destroy you, and this shell will consume everyone that you love. And then, I will destroy it, and cast its soul back to the pits of Hell, from whence it came!"

Buffy felt a smile crawl across her face. "You can't. His soul will go where it belongs. And you can't force him to kill. He would rather be destroyed."

She knew it, this time. Even if the First killed her... even if the battle outside went on for another thousand years, Angel would never be Its tool. He loved her. He loved this world. He would give up anything to save it -- including his soul. She had doubted for years, but in this, possibly her final moment, she knew for certain: no evil, no time or distance or angry words could ever truly separate them. And so long as they were One, their power would live on, and their cause would never be truly defeated. Their bodies might turn to dust, but the First would never prevail over their spirit.

"You are a fool," Angel told her, "A stupid, selfish, short-sighted fool! This creature is not worth its weight in salt."

Buffy felt anger course through her, but held it in check.

"He's worth a lot more than that. I love him. Without him, I am nothing. So you will just have to destroy me," she said. And with the words, a warm peace fell over her, shielding her from the frigid cold washing off of Angel's body. All that they had done... all that they had sacrificed... all that she and Angel had given to one another meant more than any of the petty nonsense they had allowed to come between them. It was for love that they'd always fought. And it was because of love that they always won.

Angel's even stare turned to a murderous grimace in a moment. He bent over and claimed her sword, swinging it above his head, ready to rend the Slayer in two.

Buffy looked up at him, "You can't destroy us. You can't really destroy me. Or him. We are eternal."

The First shrieked in frustration. The cave walls reverberated with the sound, and bits of rock began to shower down on them from the ceiling. Buffy ignored the stone pelting her, and continued to hold Angel's gaze.

"You can kill my body. But I will still love him," she said.

The shrieking grew louder, and became a scream of pain in Angel's voice. Buffy waited for death to take her, content in the knowledge that she would meet her end looking into her beloved's eyes.

Suddenly, he began to glow, a burning hot red, as if he'd been set on fire. His skin cracked, and his eyes blazed, and the screaming became a noise no living creature could possibly make. And then, he exploded. Not into dust, but into a rain of Hellish, flaming embers that set the walls of the cave on fire, and burned her skin. Buffy screamed herself and fell flat on her stomach, futily trying to shield her head from the falling bits of flame with her arms. It melted her clothes and seared her skin as the cave continued to shake and rumble violently.

The pain was unbearable. The vision of Angel's body blowing to bits cut into her as much as the rain of fire and stone. She blocked it out, fighting to remember his kind eyes, his warm smile, the cool strength of his hand in hers, and his loving arms around her, instead.

The room stopped moving. All through her encounter, the sounds of battle outside had echoed through the cave. But now, utter and complete silence fell over the world. Even the normal sounds of night were absent.

Buffy looked up. The cavern was empty, calm, now. The feeling of darkness and evil that had pressed on her was gone. There was nothing around her or in her but the pain of the burns on her skin to remind her that anything had happened at all.

She struggled slowly to her feet, surprised she could still walk, and began to make her way out of the cave. It hurt to move. She seemed to be cut, bruised and burned everywhere from days of battle. Part of her rejoiced that they had won. Maybe finally and forever?

But at what price? Was the world worth living in, without Angel walking its face somewhere? Her soul cried because her eyes could not -- her exhaustion was utter and complete. She'd spent five years trying to convince herself that she hated him... wishing over and over again, in her pain, that she had killed him when she had the chance.

But now? Now that he really was gone, she felt dead inside. Her only comfort was that he had not died in vain, and more, that she had not killed him. It was that, after all, that gave her the victory. In the end, she had loved him, and not had a moment's uncertainty that he loved her. It had been enough to destroy the First. And she knew in her heart, no matter what It tried to tell her, that her lover's soul had found peace and redemption at last, and had gone to its final resting place -- Heaven -- where it belonged. She also knew that when her time came, who knows when, that he would be waiting for her.

All that certain knowledge was a comfort, but barely. She had to use every last bit of her strength to will her body out of the cliffs and back to the battlefield.

Buffy had certainly been in battles before... she had seen up death up close and personal... she had even died, herself. But she had never truly been in a war. She had never seen such a vast expanse of land, littered with literally hundreds of bodies. They were everywhere... blood and corpses, both whole and in bits and pieces... the earth was coated in gore and guts and vampire dust... The air was heavy with the smell of burned and rotting flesh... the stench of death.

Good had triumphed. The dawn was once again able to break on the horizon. But Buffy couldn't help thinking about, and staring at, the cost. She reached the base of the cliff and stumbled, falling to her knees. She leaned into the thin brush beside her and vomited violently.

A soft hand touched her shoulder. A human touch... warm... caring... Buffy dragged her eyes up to look at who had arrived to offer her comfort.

Willow. The redhead was also burned, her skin almost matching the color of her hair. She was covered with bruises and scratches, but she was smiling slightly, and more importantly, she was alive. Buffy wanted to jump up and hug her with joy, but all she could do was kneel there, next to the puddle of her vomit, and stare.

"Are you okay?" the little Witch asked softly.

Buffy nodded slowly, then shook her head.

Willow would have chuckled at the contradiction, if Buffy hadn't looked so horrible, "Is that a yes, or a no?"

The Slayer's misery became plain on her pretty features, and split second later, she broke down and burst into tears.

Willow knew the feeling. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around her best friend. All of this must be hardest of all on Buffy... the ultimate responsibility for their victory had fallen squarely on her thin shoulders. And she had borne so much already... Willow held the Slayer as she cried, and felt her own tears finally begin to flow.

"WILLOW?!" Oz's frantic shout echoed through the cliffs, and was soon followed by others -- Xander... Giles... Tara... Thank the Goddess, they were alive!

"We're over here!" Willow called out, not letting go of Buffy for even a moment. She listened to the scrambling on the cliff face behind her, and watched as their family appeared, one by one. Giles, Oz, Xander, Tara, Cordelia, Wesley... even Anya and Faith. All looked like Hell, and had to help support and/or carry one another, but they were all clearly alive. The motley group stared down at Buffy and Willow.

"Is she okay?" Xander asked, his voice soft with concern.

"I'm not sure. I think so, but..." Willow answered.

"Buffy..." Giles said quietly, crouching beside them and softly rubbing Buffy's back. The soothing silence of the dawn made the tiny word echo as though he'd shouted it.

Buffy could hear their voices... she could feel their nearness. All her beloved friends. She was so happy... so happy that they had all survived more or less intact. But at the center of her joy was sorrow that the one person she most wanted to be there, was not, and couldn't be. She would never set eyes on him again. And the last words they had ever spoken were not words of love or forgiveness, or even a heartfelt goodbye -- they were words of anger. Lies about hatred and regret.

She gathered what little strength still remained in her, and accepted Giles' and Xander's hands to help her up -- it was just like when she had died, so many years ago. Only one set of the helping hands was not Angel's. She fought the sorrow that threatened to crush her. It was done. There would be time for mourning and regret later. Now they needed to confirm and celebrate that they had won. They were alive. Their family was still together.

"Oh, Buffy..." Cordelia gasped when she got a look at the Slayer's wounds.

Buffy mustered a weak, empty smile, "Nothing a little Bacitracin won't fix," she said flatly.

Looking around at all the beloved faces, each wearing the same mix of emotions she felt coursing through her, she knew that the sacrifice Angel made had been worth it. She knew, wherever he was, that he was proud.

"Well," Oz said.

"Yes. Well," Giles agreed.

They all looked at one another, then fell into a heartfelt group hug, clutching one another as if really trying to let the reality of the night finally sink in.

"Where's Angel?" Wesley asked, pulling out to look around them.

"I don't know... I lost him after he saved me from that... thing," Tara replied.

The small group broke up and began looking around, calling the vampire's name. Buffy stood, frozen, watching them.

After a moment, she said, loudly enough so they all could hear, "He's dead."

All eyes turned back to her.

"WHAT?!" Cordelia yelped, rushing forward and grabbing Buffy's arms, "WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Tears quickly began to fill her big brown eyes, and she gave the Slayer a violent shake.

Buffy stared at the ground, taking her abuse. "The First took him. It tried to use him to kill me... and tried to get me to kill him. Neither of us would do it. So It destroyed him," she reported, as though she were repeating the day's weather report. But the pain still tore through her, shredding her heart.

"No," Tara said weakly, "That's not... I was just with him! All the way on the other side of the field. There's no way he could have gotten here that quickly."

"Yes," Wesley agreed, "It wasn't long ago that I saw him, as well."

Buffy looked at them, swallowing hard. "It was him. Believe me."

The finality of her statement caused a frozen silence to crash over the group. Whatever their individual feelings for Angel had been, the sudden realization of his passing touched each of them. Yet another loss in the name of the dawn that began to crest in the hills behind them.

Cordelia wept openly. Wesley, his own face tracked with tears, took her in his arms. They had been closest to him, in the end, Buffy realized. She and Angel had become so estranged that she hadn't even been aware that his business partnership had become a family. Her heart broke doubly, for them. She knew what it felt like to love Angel... to care for the wonderful being that he was, genuinely, in the depths of your heart.

"Oh, Buffy... I'm so sorry," Willow offered, crying, and hugged her.

Buffy just stood there, not responding, stiff in Willow's heartfelt embrace. Something was wrong. If Tara and Wesley had both seen Angel at their positions on the far side of the valley, how could Angel have been with her at the same moment?

She took a deep breath, hoping against hope, against even what her eyes had seen... she looked around, pulling out of Willow's embrace, looking down the hill, over the endless rows of bodies in the blood soaked grass, toward the sun.

Even if that hadn't been Angel in the cave, he would be gone, by now. The sun blazed red over the valley giving everything an even gorier tone. He would have to flee its rising.

He was gone, right? Dead or underground.

People milled about the carnage, looking for their loved ones. Buffy searched, opening the soul-deep link she and Angel shared, the one she had closed off so many years ago so that she wouldn't be burdened by feeling him every moment of every day. She reached out with her heart, scanning the field beyond, searching for his presence.

'Not dead. Not dead,' her heart pounded.

There it was. There he was. Alive. Close by. Whole, and not the flying bits of flaming gore that had scorched her skin. Without a word, Buffy ran down the hill, into the sea of death and sorrow. Where would he have gone underground? She searched for holes and caves. She ran, groping for him desperately in her mind, screaming his name in her soul. She ran senselessly, taking in every face she passed, but not noticing a single one that wasn't the one she sought. Where was he? WHERE WAS HE?

There were no cave entrances in the field... no sewer access... no dark, shading trees. WHERE WAS HE???

The, she felt it. Angel's end of the bond snapped open, and he felt for her, frantically calling her name. She could feel him in her bones, so close...

Buffy looked up, and the sun blinded her... her eyes swept desperately around, determined to find where he stood, even through her temporary blindness.

Five yards away, silhouetted to black by the sun that blazed behind his tall form, she saw him. Her heart stopped, as did her forward motion. She stared, gaping, watching his head turn left, then right, searching for her.

Angel finally found her, and there was no mistaking that it was him. A smile lit his face, and tears flowed from his eyes as he began to walk faster, and then, finally, to run toward her.

It was like the ending of a really hokey romance movie... but Buffy didn't care. She played her part, breaking her own trance and running across the field toward him. They crashed into one another's arms, both sobbing as they clutched desperately and joyously at one another.

"God, Buffy!" Angel cried, burying his face in her hair and crushing her small body to him.

"Angel... I thought... I thought the First killed you. Right in front of me. I thought you were gone!" she sobbed.

Angel pulled away and held her at arms' length.

"No. Not gone. Not dead," he said, and turned his head slightly to nod at the sunrise behind him. Buffy stared at it, and then at him.

"How..." she whispered.

His smile warmed her more than the blazing orb over his shoulder ever could. He took one of her hands and lifted it slowly, placing its flat palm against his chest.

Buffy felt his heartbeat, strong and even, against her fingertips.

"Oh..." she murmured.

Angel looked down at her, finally raising her eyes back to his with a gentle lift of his hand.

"We saved the word," he reminded her.

It was all the explanation she needed. She grabbed him again, pressing the side of her face against his chest, listening to his heart, and the even pace of his living breath.

"Oh my god..." she whispered, and began to cry anew.

Angel wrapped his arms around her, wishing he could hold her even closer than that. He kissed the top of her head, and pulled her away again, finally noticing the burns on her face, arms and neck.

"Gods, Buffy... you should go to the hospital," his voice was sharper than he meant it to be, edged with fear and concern for her.

She gave him a good once over, "You too..." she sniffled, "Angel, I'm so sorry..."

His face scrunched with distaste, "Don't. Let's not... let's leave all that, for now. I just want to go home."

Buffy stared into his dark, living eyes, "Home?" He would leave her now? Again?

A single tear spilled from his eye, "Wherever you are is home, Buffy."

She closed her eyes for a moment, so many layers of relief washing over her, she would barely have been able to stand, if he wasn't holding her. He was alive -- really alive. And he was staying. When she opened her eyes again, he was smiling at her through his tears.

"We should tell the others you're alright," she said, "They think... I told them... Cordelia..."

Concern blighted Angel's features, "Let's find them."

"No need," Wesley said. The entire group was standing a few feet away. The ex-Watcher, one of Angel's closest friends, approached, and Buffy stepped out of the way as the two men embraced. Cordelia quickly ran over and joined them.

Everyone cried, and the embracing trio suddenly became an embracing throng. Buffy and Angel ended up on opposite sides of the crush of loving humans, but their eyes met over the top. They smiled at one another.

'I love you,' Buffy mouthed to him.

'I love you, too.'

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