Chapter Thirteen-A Little Spell and a Lot of Changes

"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams..." - Eleanor Roosevelt

It took Dana a day to prepare... to set up the temple room, to gather the ingredients, fresh from the hills (and some from obscure, unknown sources), to read over her notes and meditate on the task before her.

There was nothing for Angel to do, so he lay, flat on his back, staring at the beamed ceiling above his head. He hadn't set foot in Ireland since Darla had turned him, almost 250 years ago. It certainly had changed... or maybe it was him who had changed. As a mortal young man, his homeland had seemed drab and boring, as grey as the mist that settled heavily over the town each dawn...

But now? Now it was a land of magick... of promise.

He was terrified and exhilarated. Sad and confused. His soul felt triply tortured this day, as he waited for his life to be restored to him. He knew that, even as a living man again, he would still be haunted by the ghosts of his past.

What if the spells didn't work? What would happen to him, to Dana, to Buffy? Would the Prophecies still come to pass?

He thought about his son, yet to be born. He thought of his family, long dead by his own hand. What would they think of him, now? He could picture his fathers' stern disapproval at the wastrel his son was, and his mother's sad disappointment. If they knew of the rest of his life, would they feel differently? If he had not slaughtered them and drank their blood, would they have been proud of him, at the last? What would they think of the world he had built around himself? Would they have loved Buffy as much as he did?

It was a stupid line of thought, of course, even in pretending. If he had never become Angelus, he never would have met Buffy... he would have been dead 200 years before she was born. And his family would never even understand the world he lived in today...

Dana was standing in the doorway, dressed in glorious blood red velvet, her hair tied back, a look of quiet, distant reflection on her beautiful face. She took Angel's breath away... metaphorically. He almost chuckled, thinking how ironic it was that she had come to give him his breath.

"It's time," she told him.

He rose, taking her hand, walking resolutely down the hall, ignoring the laughter of his demon, echoing in his mind... off to face his destiny.

*****

Angel found it almost impossible to open his eyes. He was *so* tired... his limbs felt as if they were made of putty, his heartbeat was labored... pounding...

His heart was beating.

His eyes snapped open at the realization. He still lay on the altar, with Dana kneeling in meditation nearby within the circle, keeping vigil. She rose when she saw he was awake, and stood over him, smiling gently.

"Hello," she said simply.

Angel couldn't respond. It was all he could do just to lie there and breathe. *BREATHE*... he could feel his blood pumping in his living veins... he could listen to his heart beating... he could feel the breath rush in and out of his lungs.

"I'm alive," he said. He'd completely forgotten what it felt like.

"You are," Dana agreed, offering him a hand up.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked groggily.

"The required time. Three days." She held his hand as he experimented with his living body, moving his limbs, changing the pace and depth of his breath. She thrilled that his touch was so warm, and that ruddy color was filling his cheeks.

"I'm ALIVE!" He exclaimed, twirling her in a joyous dance of celebration. "I'M ALIVE!!!" He called to her, as he raced around the room, then checked his pulse. He stopped when he saw the mirror on the wall near the door. He approached it slowly, cautiously, as if he feared he might scare it away, or it might hurt him. He looked into his reflection for the first time in 250 years. He examined his eyes, his hair, his skin. He still looked pale, but now it was a tired pale, with faint circles under his eyes...

"I look awful," he told his reflection, and laughed heartily.

Dana had never heard him laugh like that before. She couldn't remember ever feeling so much joy. She watched her beloved Angel celebrate -- twice as beautiful alive as he had been dead. She felt a sense of relief and accomplishment, watching him. She had succeeded. She had fulfilled her destiny.

Suddenly, her vision became fuzzy and the floor dipped beneath her. She reached out for anything to help her keep her balance, but there was nothing nearby, and she fell. Angel was beside her in a moment. He took her in his arms and helped her to the couch outside the Circle. She sat, leaning on him, catching her breath.

"You're getting worse," he observed.

Dana smiled sadly at him, still holding his warm hand.

"There is no more worse, love. We are out of time. The end is here, for me. I have a day at most until the curse comes to bear."

Angel shook his head. "No. There must be something..."

Dana looked into his sad brown eyes, now brimming with living tears. "There is nothing to be done, Angel. I have fulfilled my destiny... my time has passed. Now is your time."

They sat, looking into one another's eyes for a long while. Dana finally broke the pained silence.

"You have a whole life ahead of you, now... I don't want to think of my death any more tonight. We need to celebrate!"

*****

After Angel went to his rooms to dress, a servant led him down the hall to a formal dining room he'd never seen before. It was dark and dramatic, all of mahogany wood and burgundy trimmings... Dana had had the servants prepare the dining room while Angel slept. A feast of excessive proportions had been prepared -- a massive buffet table covered with delicacies he had forgotten existed: roast beef dripping with juice, roast turkey and fresh ham, vegetables of every imaginable variety, fresh breads and fine wines were arranged neatly -- enough for a hundred people. Candles lit the room, and a fire in the hearth chased away the ocean chill.

Angel realized he *was* chilly... and his stomach growled fiercely at the scene before him. Dana stood beside him, taking in the sight herself.

"My..." she said, "Smells good, doesn't it?" She grinned at the audible grumbling of Angel's belly.

He rested his hand where the noise had been. "You can't even imagine..." he said.

They sat down to eat, each at the opposite end of the massive table. It took only minutes for Angel to have eaten so much, he thought he might be sick. And the wine -- he felt lightheaded from the wine. And he needed to use the bathroom...

When he returned, Dana was leaning heavily on the mantel, staring into the fire. Angel put a CD into the stereo, and approached her from behind. He didn't need to ask what she was thinking about, and he knew she didn't want him to anyway. What she wanted to do was be with him, her living love, one last night before she went to her rest.

Angel was a walking paradox, as usual. The joy he felt at being alive was only barely out-shadowed by Dana's impending death. He though of the sacrifice she'd made for him, and a rush of love washed over him like he'd never felt before.

The irony of the whole situation hit him like a brick. Dana loved him... she'd made that much clear time and again. But she was dying, and knew he was fated to always love another... and still she had given up what remained of her time so that he might live the life he was fated to lead... so that he might share his time with his life's love. Only now... right at this moment, his memories of, and feelings for, Buffy, seemed a million miles and years away, and all he could see before him was this woman -- his savior. His closest friend.

He realized in that moment that he really did love her, and that he didn't want her to die.

He took her hand and led her to the open part of the dining room floor by the fireplace. Angel took Dana into his arms and they began swaying to the soft music.

Dana was overwhelmed by him. Now that he was alive, his presence seemed to overshadow all the other energies she could usually sense in any room. She could smell the warmth of his skin, the spicy fragrance of his clean hair... and she could smell the living blood in his veins...

She tensed for a moment, struggling to control the bloodlust that came upon her. It was only one night -- the only night she had left. She could not... WOULD not... let the demon overtake her now! The urge passed, and Dana relaxed once again. The spells were coming dangerously close... she had to hold on...

Angel pulled away from her a little bit so he could look into her face.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

She smiled, a small smile, and only nodded before leaning into him once again. She couldn't remember the last time she'd held such a big, warm being in her arms. The few lovers and friends she'd had over the years had all been vampires... She could hear his heart pumping, and some part of her rejoiced at having made it so.

It was well worth the price.

Angel held her tightly, as if holding her would keep her from slipping away from him. He knew that he was moving swiftly toward a great life -- a destiny 2000 years in the making. But tonight... tonight he was just a man, a man holding a beautiful woman who he cared about deeply in his arms. A woman who would soon leave him...

As the music played on and they continued to dance, Angel thought over the year he and Dana had spent together. To think of her being gone frightened him more than he expected. Now that she had given him this miraculous gift, it seemed too much in comparison to what she was giving up.

He didn't know how he would face the future without her. How he would stand before the Council who hated and feared him, and take any part at all, without her guidance. How he would fill his role as peacemaker and diplomat, father of Kings, without her strong belief in him to boost him up...

It was Dana who pulled away this time. She stopped moving and hesitantly stepped back from him.

"This isn't right," She said sadly, "However much I might like this to be... for us to be... we both know it can't. You are the dearest thing in the world to me, and now..."

She took a deep breath.

"And now you are about to step into a future which does not in any way include me. You are fated for another life... another love."

Angel tipped her face up to his, and without comment, kissed her softly. Dana forgot what she had been objecting about. All she knew was that the man she had loved for 2000 lonely years was holding her -- kissing her. She felt all of her passion, admiration, and adoration rise in her like a flood. She had one chance -- this one and only chance -- to love him.

She returned his kiss with the fervor of the damned... the pent up fire that she had walled up inside her since she met him...

They made love long into the night, finally releasing and sharing the electricity that had built between them for months. His hot skin made hers almost warm, but it was his lips that she felt left searing marks on her body where he placed his kisses. His living hands knew every inch of her cold flesh, and with their union came bliss the likes of which Dana had never known.

They whispered words of love to one another in the darkness -- called out to one another across the space created by their passion. When they finished, he slept deeply, and Dana spent her last hours watching her living Angel sleep...

*****

He could still smell the dawn coming. He blinked open his eyes and saw Dana sleeping quietly beside him... a single tear fell from his eye as he softly touched her cheek.

She opened her deep blue eyes in response to his touch, now so familiar, and smiled widely. It was time. She was ready. There was nothing left to say or do -- only the end, and his new beginning.

They rose and dressed silently, touching one another whenever the opportunity arose.

Angel had known this was coming. He had watched the changes in Dana worsen, day by day, always steeling himself for the inevitable end. But now that it was here, he felt as if his newborn heart might break at the thought of losing her. Something inside him felt at home with her, natural, easy, and safe, as if he were a normal man...

Now he was, more or less, a normal man. Now the life that he had dreamed of for so long was within his grasp, and part of him no longer wanted it. How very Zen, to all of a sudden realize that what you want is what you've already got. How very tragic to realize that you can't keep it.

He was unprepared for the sorrow that overtook him, and he began to weep. Dana took him in her arms, caressing him, shushing him gently.

"I love you, my sweet Angel. Please don't cry."

When he raised his eyes, rimmed once again with tears, to her, it almost broke her heart.

"I love you, Dana. After everything you've gone through for me...after everything you've done for me, how can I just watch you die?"

"You are human now, Angel. And that's one of the things humans have to learn to live with -- the inevitability of death. But you can't forget. You can't forget what -- and who -- we've done all this for. I believe that you love me, and I have spent all of my days dreaming of that. Of what passed between us last night, over the past year... But we are merely players in a production much bigger than our two beings. All of what we have done is to lead to something else..."

She lay her hand over the place where his heart now beat, and raised her eyes to meet his.

"Do not mourn overlong, or overmuch for me, my sweet Angel. For there is a whole world that needs you -- an entire future... another living heart..."

He looked into her eyes. For a moment, her face became Buffy's, smiling at him, her eyes alight with love...

He knew it was a glamour Dana was using, to put a face to what she had just said...

Angel remembered. All of this had been for her -- for their son. He closed his eyes. When he looked again, he saw Dana, fearless and strong in the face of her death. He steeled himself and let her go.

"We need to go," she said, "It's time for the sun to rise."

*****

They walked slowly in the pre-dawn grey, through the dew-wet heather to the cliffs overlooking Galway Bay. The smells of the Irish dawn woke memories in Angel that were long-since dormant. Scenes of his boyhood in these hills, his family... what he had been as a living man -- though irresponsible, still full of life, joy, and laughter...

The beautiful creature beside him had already been 2000 years old when he had called Ireland home.

The air was waking around them. Birds were beginning to sing, and the smell of grass and blooming flowers filled the air as they approached the edge of the cliffs. When Angel got a good look at the lighter blue beginning to peak over the horizon, he felt the familiar sense of dread at the coming of the dawn. Then it occurred to him: today, the sun would not turn him to dust, but it would reduce his newfound love to ashes.

Dana smiled from beside him. She began to chant softly, and a drank a potion she pulled from inside her coat.

"This will dull the pain," she assured him. She turned to look out over the bay. There was no fear in her, only a sense of a job well done, of a life well-lived. Angel would be fine, now. He would live out his mortal days with his soul's mate, filling the world with his power and his love. And his son... his son would be a power of a different kind, a living symbol of all his father's pain and passion. In a sense, he would be her son, too. His existence a symbol of her love for Angel, and all they had endured, together.

She watched a gull swoop over the water, heralding the molten gold that began to blaze on the horizon.

Dana took Angel's hand and squeezed.

Chapter Fourteen-Toward a Different Horizon

"There is a whole world that needs you...an entire future...another living heart..." - Dana

Angel held Dana's hand until there was nothing left to hold but dust. He wept with equal parts grief and joy.

The sun blazed up over the horizon, burning his tear-stained eyes, so long used to only darkness. As he raised his hand to shield them, he realized suddenly that this sun was no longer his enemy, but the light he needed, as a human being, to live.

He took a long time to watch another gull swoop into the fired-tinged water. He had to remember that, although time was now shorter for him, that its tiny pleasures were no less valuable and worthy of that time. He had to remember never to rush... he would still walk slowly through his life as if he still had forever, never missing a precious detail.

He turned from the cliff and the sunrise, and walked away.

*****

Dana's house was in chaos when he returned, several days later. Of course, the household already knew she was dead -- the seers would have known at least that, despite her glamours to hide her and Angel from prying eyes.

He immediately sought out Erishka. Even if she already knew about her daughter, even if she had been on the Council that had so twisted his life, Angel could at least show the courtesy of a personal announcement -- and offer a shoulder to cry on.

He knocked softly on her chamber door.

"Come in, Angelus," came her weak voice from inside.

He opened the door and stepped into a bedchamber so elegant, it rivaled even Dana's in its opulence. Heavy mahogany furniture and wine colored velvet trimmings dominated the dark room. The ceiling was domed ivory, decorated by a giant oil painting of hundreds of dancing cherubs. The irony was not lost on him.

Then he saw Erishka, draped in formal mourning garb of the deepest black, practically disappearing into her enormous wing-backed chair. She seemed to have shrunk, somehow, her once regal bearing gone, and in its place, the carriage of the ancient woman she truly was.

"It is done," He said gently, formally.

She nodded sadly, looking up at him. "I know," She replied, tears streaming down her ashen cheeks.

Angel crouched down before her. He felt close to this woman, somehow, as if she were his own mother. He wished he could offer her even the smallest comfort, but he knew there was no way to ease this pain... watching the death of everyone you love was the curse of the immortal...

"She didn't suffer," he offered.

Erishka searched his eyes deeply -- looking for something. Although Erishka liked Angelus a great deal -- the boy was sweet and smart, not to mention handsome -- she did not see the greatness that Dana had seen there. She did not see the world-changer or the death-bringer... She did not see the father of a king... she saw only the boy with eyes as dark as night... eyes now full of light and life.

"Yes she did, my son," she lay her cold hand affectionately on Angel's cheek, "She pined for you for two thousand years...she talked about you as if you were her living lover, gone off to war or some such silly thing that men let take them away from their lives..."

Angel squeezed his eyes shut against the pain in his soul. Dana had given her life to ensure his happiness -- she had expended the last of her own soul to bring him his mortality. He drew a long breath in her name, then rose.

"I see that you are alive," Erishka said, matter-of-factly. But inside she was shaking to see that it was possible... if only...

She had known Dana would do this when her death became inevitable. She'd known it since the day, not so many years ago, that Dana had come tearing down the hall in their London home, screaming and laughing that she had finally done it. She had finally found the answer to all her cares... the secret to restoring Angel's mortality.

Dana's guilt over Angel's cruel punishment had always been clear, and Erishka had never doubted that she would eventually use the Incantations on him, if the opportunity arose. And when Dana reported to her mother that she had found Angel, living in LA... this ending was certain from that moment to this.

"I am," Angel confirmed, a mixture of pride and sorrow in his voice.

Erishka gazed on him for a long time. Now he truly was the young, strong man of prophecy. He was the living flesh that would produce the future. It never ceased to amaze her, in all of the centuries she had known it would happen. And it amazed her more, now that it was true.

She rose to stand before him. She was barely over half of his height and a third of his weight. But she held his gaze with the warm ferocity of a person so confident, so powerful, that their size mattered hardly at all.

"You will always have a place in my home, Angel. I look forward to working on the Council with you." She hesitated for a moment, then went on, "Dannan spent her entire life devoted to bringing these days to pass... bringing... this..." she lay her wrinkled hand on his chest, feeling his newborn heart within. It brought tears to her eyes -- it was Dana's heart, that pounded away inside the boy.

"Extraordinary," She said to him, smiled sadly, then turned back to the fireplace, dismissing him.

Angel obeyed her silent command, and left.

He wandered the grounds throughout the day, reveling in the sun. Not reveling, exactly, because of his sadness and quickly growing sunburn...

...and because every tree, every flower, made him think of Dana. He remembered all their months together fondly... her brilliant smile, her shining red hair, her particular flourish for the dramatic. The scenes spilled through his mind: their first dance at the ball, the demon hunt, the nights on the town, the days at the piano and the chess board, the midnight snacks.

The ritual... Dana's pain... their lovemaking... her kind blue eyes, shining with love in his first sunrise -- her last thought had been of him...

He wiped the tears away from his sunburned cheek, remembering her last words to him:

"Do not mourn overlong, or overmuch for me, my sweet Angel. For there is a whole world that needs you -- an entire future... another living heart..."

Buffy. When Dana had first told him his mortality was a possibility, he had not had time to fully digest the ramifications. He thought of Buffy's sweet smile, and her encouraging words the last time he had seen her.

Could it have been a year ago? He had been so lost, so confused... and still dead. The barrier of that and their shared history had stood like a living creature between them, choking their voices... preventing any words of love...

The history remained, but the barriers had been removed. Their shared destiny awaited... their son. But what could he possibly say to her? How could he explain?

What if she turned him away?

*****

It took Angel barely an hour to pack what things he had at the Heathers. He asked the servants to run errands for him -- make arrangements. He felt like a walking irony, mourning for one lover even while he made his way to spend eternity (albeit, now, only a metaphorical one) in the arms of another.

Dana had been his greatest friend, his most loyal ally. She had made all of this possible for him... but Buffy was his destiny. His fate was to be a reluctant ancestor to the next race of men...

He barreled down the hall... he couldn't wait another day. Wouldn't waste any more time contemplating or brooding or mourning. Life -- he smiled at the thought -- was short.

He saw Maella standing in the doorway to her rooms. He paused, began to move toward her -- to offer her some modicum of comfort, despite all she had done to he and Dana. But she grimaced at him, growling softly, before turning and slamming the door behind her.

He didn't have time to think about it now. He had a plane to catch.

*****

The night passed quickly on the plane. Of course, Angel was nowhere near sleep... instead, he read the incredibly boring in-flight magazine and contemplated the fact that he would be needing to eat the disgusting "meal" the flight attendant placed in front of him. Then, when most of the lights went out and the majority of the passengers slept, Angel thought about life...

His second sunrise set the sky outside the plane on fire. It was glorious, the way the clouds turned bloody red, then burning yellow, then searing white. Angel found himself glad to be alive.

Alive, at last.

When the plane touched down, the sun was in its noontime glory. Angel stepped off the plane onto the Sunnydale Airport runway, putting on the thick, dark shades he bought, knowing he would need them for awhile until his eyes readjusted.

He smiled at the heat on his skin, despite the pain the sunburn caused. Its touched flowed over him languidly, like honey, and he rejoiced in the sweet pain of its heat.

*****

The walk through Sunnydale was bittersweet. The cozy, peaceful streets were quiet during the day, belying what they became past dark.

He knew going down past the High School and Buffy's old house on Rubello drive were the long way around, but he needed more time to get straight in his head what he was going to say to her... or to her friends, for that matter. How was he ever going to explain all that had happened in the past year, or all that was about to happen in their future?

How was he going to explain that he was alive?

He had a lot to think about. But he couldn't stop walking, giving himself less than ½ hour to decide.

*****

"Go Fish!" Willow cried triumphantly.

Oz smiled at her. Willow always won. And he was never entirely certain if it was by luck, or by magick.

Willow grinned at him. This was the life, sitting in the living room of her and Buffy's snappy new apartment, whiling away the afternoon playing a good, hearty game of Go Fish with her now green-haired sometimes-werewolf, boyfriend. She had it pretty damned good. She only wished she could give even a speck of her joy to Buffy, who still pined away for her lost Angel...

There was a knock at the door. Willow jumped up.

"Victor does door duty," Oz fake-scowled at her. She stuck her tongue out at him, and skipped down the hall.

Oz heard her whistling, heard the various deadbolts being thrown, then, silence.

`Not comfortable with the silence...' he thought.

The silence was broken by Willow screaming. Oz was on his feet before the echo died.

*****

Willow was so damned happy she could hardly stand it as she threw the deadbolts (all four, installed at Buffy's insistence...) and swung open the door.

Her jaw dropped. Through the screen, she was looking at...

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. Hellmouth... gotta be the Hellmouth...

...Angel, his handsome face framed in the afternoon sun behind him.

She started screaming. Angel shifted from foot to foot, looking terribly uncomfortable. Which he was, in a happy way... it'd been a long walk, and it was hot. And plus, there was Willow screaming.

Suddenly, Oz was there, joining the Witch in what had turned into a mouth-open gaping exercise. Willow's arms hung limply at her side. Oz stood defensively, obviously taken aback, but still mostly unruffled. As usual.

"Hi," Angel said. "Uh... is Buffy home?"

*****

Willow couldn't seem to move of her own accord, so she followed Oz dumbly down the hall. She had so many questions, she found she couldn't say anything at all.

She tried: "You... it's... here... you...day... I...but..."

Oz had collected himself a great deal more than she. He put his arm around Willow's shoulders, partly in support, and partly to allow him to reach around to close her jaw for her. It seemed to be stuck.

He nodded coolly at Angel. "It's good to see you, man. Daylight. Wow." The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Oz gestured out the porch door, "Buffy's out back in the garden. Study-napping, probably."

Angel had to restrain himself from sprinting out as fast as he could. He smiled his thanks at Oz, and reached out a reassuring hand to pat Willow's shoulder. "I promise, I'll explain everything," he said, then turned and walked out onto the deck and down the path to the yard.

The gardens were surrounded with seven foot privacy shrubs, trimmed and molded to form a labyrinth, of sorts, but not a difficult one, as it took Angel less than a minute to reach the center.

And the treasure awaiting him there...

Buffy was more beautiful in the sunlight than he remembered. Her hair shone with its light, her tanned skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat. She wore sunglasses not unlike his own pitch- black wraparounds; and a textbook -- Victorian Literature -- lay open upside down on her chest. The heavy volume rose and fell slowly, deeply with her sleeping breath.

Angel felt his heart throb for the first time... the first time his love for her had actually caused a physiological reaction in him... he was on fire for her, down to his mortal cells. He felt warm, salty tears spring to his eyes, and he removed his sunglasses to wipe them away and to see this moment more clearly.

"Buffy..." he said softly, crouching beside the marble bench where she lay.

She stirred a little, turning her head, opening her eyes, and regarding him groggily.

"Hi," She said, her voice heavy with the confusion of the newly wakened, "I haven't seen you in a while. How've you been?"

Angel realized she thought she was dreaming. He reached out slowly, tentatively, to touch her soft cheek.

She flinched, and was instantly up, on her feet on top of the bench, in a defensive stance.

"What the hell?" She growled menacingly at him, "What's this supposed to be? Who the hell are you?"

He smiled, "It's me, Buffy."

She regarded him with obvious mistrust and more than a little fear. She did not change her stance, nor let down her guard.

Angel held no fear of her, and so he approached, slowly, as if trying to pet a wild animal.

"Buffy. I swear, it's me."

Buffy scowled. "But it's broad daylight." she said suspiciously, "And you don't look anything like a pile of dust, which is what you should be. If you were Angel. Which you obviously aren't."

He stood directly in front of her, now. With her heels and the height of the bench, they stood eye- to-eye. He held her gaze, telling her silently, assuring her, promising her that it was true...

"It's really me. It's me. Angel." He repeated.

Her eyes softened, her arms relaxed. "Angel?" she said softly.

In a moment, she had leapt into his arms, and for the first time, Angel lost his living breath in the crushing embrace of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Epilogue

Three Years Later

Angel looked out over the very bay where Dana had died, watching the sun set on the horizon. It still seemed odd to him that he was coming now to the end of his day, when for a quarter of a millennium, he would have just been beginning to stir.

He sighed. He still thought of Dana often, and mourned her sincerely. It seemed the least he could do after all she had done for him, to remember her...

All this happiness... even with the daunting responsibilities of being the only human on the Council, nothing could over shadow all the blessings he received every day because of Dana's sacrifice.

The past three years had been difficult -- there were adjustments to be made that Angel had never begun to imagine...even he and Buffy had struggled, sometimes. But those struggles were the relationship problems almost any two extraordinary mortals with an uncommon past might have to face. Rather than facing an eternity of self-torture and guilt, Angel now sometimes had to face an eternity of self-torture and guilt, plus the wrath of the Slayer, upset by his forgetting to pick up a pint of Ben and Jerry's on the way home.

His new life was a beautiful, spectacular, precious gift, and even in its most trying moments, he cherished it. He wished with all of his heart that Dana could have experienced even one minute detail of this joyous experience called mortality... a heartbeat, a sun shower, sweat, seeing your reflection in the mirror or a photograph of yourself... or the feeling of spending what short time a human being had with another human being who was the other half of you.

Buffy approached him, then, coming to stand behind by his side, at the edge of the cliff. She took his hand and Angel felt their wedding bands clink together softly. He squeezed, and turned to smile at her. The setting sun made her already rosy cheeks nearly shine, and he could see its blazing red reflected in her beautiful eyes...

He put his arm around his wife's slender shoulders and held her to him. She snuggled up to his side and they both gazed out at the Ravens and gulls flying together over the bay.

`Do you know what you've given me?' Angel thought, speaking to Dana's spirit, whose presence he always felt, watching over him and his family. `Did you know then how happy I would be?'

He reached over and rested his hand on Buffy's bulging belly. `How incredible' he thought, feeling his son kick. Buffy beamed up at him and put her hand over his... their claddaugh rings laying next to one another over the living manifestation of all they had been through together... a symbol of their union, and of the future which made up for all their past.

Angel thought that future looked pretty damn bright. Brighter than sunshine... he took his wife into his arms, kissed the tip of her nose, then rested his cheek on the top of her head. He looked out over the waves, remembering his first sunrise again. He thought about Dana... about his son, the great leader, yet to be born -- the son of the people of the day and the walkers of night... the boy who would change the world...

Their miracle child...

He felt the golden vial of Dana's ashes pressed against his chest by Buffy's embrace. She was with him, always, as were the gifts she had bestowed upon him. He only hoped his life would bring her honor and make her death worthwhile... he prayed to whatever gods would listen that he and his family could live up to all Dana had dreamed for them, for a two hundred centuries...

He could almost hear her voice on the wind, whispering his name...

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