Part Eight

It was impossible. More than impossible. Angel's mind couldn't even encompass it. He stood very, very still and tried not to fall down. Tried not to move. Tried not to think for fear of what would happen.

"Buffy you know that's impossible," he said, very quietly and very slowly, daring to lift his head to look at her again. She was standing very close. The invisible field between them gave the illusion that he could reach out and touch her, but it was just that…an illusion. She might as well have been worlds away.

"You know why I think I'm not sane?" Buffy whispered, ignoring his statement. "Because how could I be? How can you be." She looked straight at him, her eyes incomprehensible. "I remember a day that never was. What does that make me? What does that make us?"

"No," Angel whispered, shaking his head, willing himself not to step back, not to flee from the pain of the thought. The pain of knowing she had lived for twenty three years with the burden he thought he alone carried. "That can't be."

"It is. I've always remembered."

"How? You just…walked away…"

"Of course I did," Buffy replied quietly, her eyes never moving from his face. "How could I do less? You gave up your humanity for me, for the world. How could I ruin that? Cause you more pain? I walked away, because I'm the Slayer and I had to." She moaned softly, turning finally, falling against the wall and closing her eyes. "I had to."

"But…Vivien…she can't be. Buffy, it never happened."

"Don't you think I know that?!" Buffy shouted, spinning back around. She stood there, tense for a moment, and then crumbled, sliding against the wall to the floor. "It never happened. But she did. I didn't sleep with anyone else. And can you really doubt she's yours Angel? You've looked into her eyes. They're your eyes. She has your nose, and your forehead and…and those eyes. She's your daughter."

"My daughter," Angel whispered, feeling the sudden need to collapse to the floor himself. His daughter. He had a daughter. A human daughter. His and Buffy's…Vivien. She was his.

And he'd missed her entire life.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice harsher than he'd intended it to be. Buffy looked up at him with dead eyes.

"It would have been harder for everyone. You would have come back for her, not for me, and I would have resented you both for it. I would never have been able to move on. And you would never have what you have now: a life of your own. We would have been miserable. We all would have been," Buffy said dully, the words coming so smoothly Angel wondered how many times she'd practiced them, aloud or in her head. How many times she'd told them to herself.

"I have a daughter," Angel said harshly, his voice almost not working. He closed his eyes struggling not to let his emotions overwhelm him, not to vamp out. "I have a daughter and the only reason I've even met her is by chance. You took her away from me. I missed her life. How could you do that?"

"She was all I had," Buffy whispered, half a plea, half a hiss of defense. "All I had left…I couldn't give her up. We would have been miserable…miserable…"

"And what did I have Buffy?" Angel demanded, his rage rising despite himself. "Nothing! You obviously did fine. You moved on. You found someone else to love you. Someone else that got to hold her when she cried and teach her things and laugh with her! You stole my daughter!"

Buffy leapt to her feet, her eyes blazing. "That's right Angel! Someone else! And you know what happened to him? He died. Because of me. Because I loved him. Because he loved Vivien and would do anything to protect her. He died. Would you rather it had been you?"

"Yes," Angel hissed. And it was true. In that moment, he would rather give up his life, give up all this pain and anger and the image of her, wracked with visions of terror, for the chance to see his daughter's first steps, hear her first words, bandage her first cut, see her eyes when they were young and laughing, and not hurt and hidden, and far, far too much like his…

"No," Buffy whispered, and crumpled again, kneeling this time, bowed over. "No."

"How could you?" Angel asked.

"I didn't know what else to do," Buffy cried, pleading now, for forgiveness, for understanding, for anything.

"Do you understand?" Angel whispered, his rage dying away abruptly, replaced with sorrow beyond words at what he had lost, all the time, all the joy, all the beauty he had missed. "Do you understand what you took away from me?"

"Of course I understand," Buffy murmured, looking back up at him with that same gaunt face, those hollow eyes. "She was my life. And now she can be yours."

Angel shuddered slightly at the finality of those words, at the acknowledgment in Buffy's not-quite-sane eyes.

"I won't let you fight," he said hollowly. "I won't let you die."

"No," Buffy corrected him, shaking her head, "You won't let her."

And then she started screaming again.

*

"What happened?" Vivien asked as Angel walked her back down the corridor toward the waiting room at the end. She'd heard the screams and come running, along with Dr. Andrews and several orderlies. Buffy was still screaming, though now it had turned into a name…Vivien's name…Angel put a hand on her arm as she gave a slight shudder. They walked into the room and closed the door, effectively soundproofing the room. She relaxed noticeably and looked up at Angel, who still hadn't answered her question, and was watching her with the oddest unreadable look…

"Angel?" she tried again. "What happened?"

He started and looked away. "I think she had another vision." He fell silent, lost in thought and Vivien watched him. There was something different. Something sadder about him, something so obviously hurt. Most people wouldn't see it, but she could just tell. He was aching inside. She sat down uneasily, staring back up the hall to where her mother was probably still screaming…She glanced back at Angel and he was staring at her intently. When she met his eyes he looked away again and she looked back up the hall, afraid to ask him what they'd been speaking about.

"Vivien," he said softly, and she looked back to him, her dark eyes curious and yet wary, always wary. He looked into her eyes and seemed about to say something, but he stopped himself again and turned away. She bit her lip and looked down at her lap. They sat still, silent, for an indefinite amount of time—Vivien didn't let herself think. They should probably just go, it was doubtful they'd be able to talk to Buffy again that afternoon but…but Angel didn't seem to be in a hurry, so they just sat. Sometimes she could feel his eyes on her, examining her, but he always looked away before she could catch him and it wasn't a bad feeling, just…odd.

After a long time, Vivien had no idea how long, Dr. Andrews came back. She saw them and opened the door to the room, looking to Vivien.

"She's calmed down," she said. "She wants to speak to you. But only for a minute, then we're going to sedate her." Vivien nodded and stood up, wondering briefly what it was like to never have heard those words, to never have a time limit on how long you could speak with your mother before she got out of control. She knew Buffy never slept without being sedated, or rarely. What was it like to sit beside your mother and watch her drift away into sweet dreams?

Angel followed, though not as closely as usual and Vivien wondered at that too. There was something different. He watched her more and yet wouldn't stand near her…

Buffy was curled up in a fetal position again, shaking against one of the walls. She looked up as Vivien approached and her eyes lit slightly.

"Hi Mommy," Vivien whispered.

"Listen to me," Buffy rasped. She closed her eyes briefly as a spasm wracked her, and then opened them again, fixing their green depths on her daughter. "Angel…" She looked over to where he stood and Vivien followed her gaze. He stood very, very still beside her, as if afraid of what would happen if he moved. Vivien looked back to her mother. "Angel is your father."

The world reeled and Vivien was very, very sure for a moment her legs were going to collapse. In fact, they nearly did, only Angel's hand on her arm saved her from falling down. As soon as she was steady he removed it, as if afraid of her reaction to his touch.

"That's impossible," Vivien whispered, her eyes filling with unfamiliar tears as she looked from the tall, dark vampire that appeared to be only a few years older than she, to her mother, so young and so old at the same time.

"Willow will explain," Buffy promised, as she shook again and supressed a low moan. Vivien started, wanting to go to her, but she knew she couldn't. She dug her fingernails into her palms to hold still, and saw Angel just as tense beside her. Buffy's head, buried in her knees for a moment, snapped back up and her eyes were blazing as they met Vivien's again. "I have to fight it. You have to get me out. Make him get me out."

"I don't understand," Vivien gasped.

"Make him," her mother hissed and then Dr. Andrews joined them, holding the controls for her mother's implant. It controlled her drugs (not that medications had ever helped her) and could sedate her at any time.

"You better go now," she told Vivien and Angel. Vivien nodded numbly, unbelieving, not knowing whether to be happy or sad or…or what. She was just numb. How could that be? How could Angel be her father? And why would her mother have let her go so long without knowing? It had to be a delusion, just another delusion of her mother's crazed mind but…but the thought that it wasn't real hurt more than the thought that it could be.

Angel led her away gently, and she went without protest, her tired, hurt mind trying to comprehend all that had just been said, how much her life had changed in just a moment. If it was true, that was. She looked at Angel, who, she suddenly noticed, had dark eyes too, and wished with a desperation she didn't know she had left in her that it was.

*

"Is it true?" Vivien asked the moment Willow stepped off the plane and into her arms. The older woman blinked, taken aback by the look in Vivien's eyes—a look she had seen before, in a very different face.

"What? Is what true?" Willow asked quietly. She looked beyond Vivien, to Xander, who looked confused and worried.

"Is Angel my father?" Vivien whispered, her lips trembling. Xander's face transfigured into shock. A tear slipped out of Willow's eyes as she enfolded her almost-daughter in her arms and held her while she shook.

*

It was true.

Angel was her father.

"Why didn't she tell me?" Vivien asked, sitting on her couch beside Willow, her hands clasped tight in the redhead's. Xander sat across from them, still looking shocked, and as if he truly didn't know what to do or say. She'd never seen him speechless before, truly speechless.

"She had her reasons," Willow replied. "I…Buffy was a very determined woman. When she made up her mind, nothing could change it. She was…hurt, a lot, by her relationship with Angel. She didn't want you to be hurt too."

"But this is better?" Vivien gasped. "Finding out like this?"

"I don't think she ever meant you to find out, ever meant you to meet Angel. After she met Kevin…she'd never been so happy, both because she found love for herself, and because she found a father for you. One she thought you'd never lose."

Vivien nearly laughed at the irony of that. She didn't. "But she took so much away from me…away from both of us. I always thought…" She faltered, unable to confess her deepest fears, even to Willow and Xander. Willow seemed to know though. She hugged her tightly, smoothing her hair.

"She loved you so much. You were her entire life. You still are. She lost the only true, pure happiness she'd ever known and it nearly killed her. And then she had you. And you made up for it all," Willow murmured. Vivien nodded, pulling away, slightly.

"But how could she…" she whispered, thinking of Angel and his big hands and his rare smile. He would have made a good dad, she thought suddenly. If he'd ever had the chance. And if she could think of nothing but what she'd lost, what must he be feeling? "I have to go see him," she said suddenly, looking up. Willow and Xander exchanged a single glance, but didn't object. How could they? He was her father. Her father.

She had a father.

"We'll go with you," Xander volunteered.

"No," Vivien whispered, shaking her head as she stood. She gave them a tiny smile. "Thank you for offering but…but I have to do this myself." Willow nodded understanding and Xander reached over and took her hand. Vivien wondered what it was like to have friends like that, such deep and abiding friends. She loved her best friend dearly, and they were very close but…but there were things she'd never even told her. Feelings she'd never told anyone.

She thought, as she walked out of her apartment, that she had a father now, and maybe she could tell him…

*

WHAM!

Angel hit his punching back with all the pent up anger of twenty three years he could have spent with his daughter. Twenty three years he could have watched her smile. Twenty three years he could have held her when she cried.

Twenty three years Buffy had lived with the pain of what they had given up, lived with it alone.

Cordelia hadn't even asked what was wrong when he walked in through the office and went straight down to his apartment. She hadn't even tried to open her mouth after seeing the look on his face. He was thankful for that, with the part of his mind that could think.

Viven was his daughter. His blood. She had his eyes.

He had never even dared to imagine having a child. Even if she wasn't a child anymore. Even if he'd lost that part of her life.

WHAM!

Would he lose more of it? She hardly knew him. She'd had a father, in all but blood. Someone who had helped raise her, who had known her favorite color and what music she listened to and who her friends were. She'd had a father, and he'd died. Would she want another? What was Angel to her? Just an employer, that happened to have given her his genes. Her mother's ex-boyfriend, that had caused her pain, helped drive her to insanity. She had no reason to accept him as her father. No reason at all.

WHAM!

Why would she ever love him? He had never been any of the things a father should be. He didn't even know how. For god's sake, he looked like her older brother. Why would she want a demon for a father? She'd probably want to stay as far away from him as possible.

WHAM!

Angel's arms ached, but not as much as his heart. He turned away from the punching bag. It was no use. It didn't help. Nothing helped. He had a daughter, but she would never…

And then he saw her, standing at the foot of the stairs, watching him with her heart in her eyes. His eyes.

"Vivien," he said softly. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Daddy?" she whispered, and ran into his open arms.

Part Nine

Angel watched his daughter sleep with a tender feeling uncurling inside him that he had never even imagined before. Memories presented themselves of another blond young woman sleeping in his bed, so long ago, looking like an angel, perfect and content. He'd loved her so much. He loved her still, he admitted to himself. He'd wanted more than anything in the world to keep her safe, keep her happy, all those years ago as he prepared to go speak to the Oracles. But this was different. He loved Buffy with an enduring passion, a flame that had never faltered and never would. He loved her with every breath he did not need to take, with every look, every smile, every moment. But she was not his. She never would be. She was beautiful, and alive, and as much as he could love her, no part of her could even belong to him, or to anyone. She was herself, simply, irrevocably. She could be someone's daughter, someone's friends, someone's lover and even someone's mother, but she would always be her own.

Vivien was not like that. He wasn't sure exactly how she knew, except that in her dark eyes there was something unexplainable. She loved deeply, truly, when she would let herself love at all. And she gave of herself, to her mother, to her stepfather, to Willow and Xander…and now to Angel. In return, she was loved completely, without choice or question. He wondered if she realized the power she had over people merely from the giving of herself, because in that gift of her soul, she also took part of the person she had given too. Angel knew that just as Vivien now belonged to him, his daughter, he belonged to her. She was his. Blood of his blood. A living, breathing, beautiful reminder of one perfect day that never even happened. It was impossible that she should be here, sleeping so peacefully on his bed—she needed the rest, she told him she hadn't been sleeping well. But there she was. Real, alive. A living memory.

"Angel?" Cordelia whispered from behind him. Angel turned, startled from his thoughts and put a hand on her arm, guiding her away from the bedroom. "Are you okay?"

"I will be," Angel replied softly. "Vivien was tired, I don't want to wake her, let's go upstairs." Cordelia nodded and they walked up the stairs in silence, into Angel's office. Willow and Xander were in the outer office, so Angel knew Cordelia must know by now. Her expression told him this was true as she turned to regard him, her eyes wide and compassionate.

"I'm so sorry Angel," she said, putting a hand on his arm. Angel nodded, crossing his arms and leaning back on the desk.

"I can't blame her," he told her quietly. "I want to. She took my daughter away from me, but…but I can't blame her. She was just trying to find a little happiness."

"At the cost of yours!" Cordelia flared up. He gave her a quiet lip and she quieted, nodding. "I'm sorry. I know…I just had to watch you brood for the last twenty three years, so I guess I'm a little touchy on the subject." Angel's mouth turned up, as he was sure she had intended.

"It's okay," he said, raising a hand to take hers. "I understand."

"Yeah. Anyway, how are you and Vivien doing?"

"We talked," Angel said, leaning back against his desk. "She's confused, which is understandable. I think she's also…glad. She grew up thinking she was a mistake, though she won't admit as much out loud. I can tell it hurt. Now she's found out that she was very much wanted. As much as that must make her happy, she's also found out her mother lied to her and everyone she knows for her entire lifetime, and hid her existence from her own father, as well as my existence from her. She loves Buffy a lot. That's a severe blow. Added to all that, she's tired and scared of this demon. Not that I blame her."

"Gotta go with you on that one," Cordelia muttered. Angel fell silent and she squeezed his arm again. "Don't worry Angel. We've been through worse. We'll get through this too." Angel nodded.

"Let's go talk to Willow and Xander," he said. "We have some things to dicuss."

Willow started and looked really guilty when Angel walked out into the front office. Xander had the grace to look sympathetic. Or maybe he was just older now.

Before Willow could say a word, Angel cut her off. "It's all right. You were just doing what Buffy wanted. I'm not angry."

"But I should have told you," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "Or I should have convinced Buffy to…I'm so sorry Angel."

"It doesn't matter," Angel hushed her gently. "It's too late for regret now. The past is the past. Now we have to worry about the future." They all looked grim at that.

"What are we going to do?" Xander asked. "All the research we've done says this thing has a hide like steel nothing can pierce it. You could send rockets at it and they would just graze the surface."

"It has to have a weakness," Angel said softly. "We're going to find it." Xander looked doubtful, but there was no other choice after all, they had to try. "We also have to do something else."

"What?" Cordelia asked, slightly surprised. He hadn't mentioned anything else… He looked at the three of them, forty one year olds that had been fighting demons since they were sixteen. Three people that had lost more than most people ever gained—friendships, loved ones, the certain knowledge that one woman would always be there, always be strong, always be fighting. It was that woman that Angel's mind turned to. He didn't want to say this. He wanted to protect her. Every part of him screamed that he loved her and nothing would hurt her again, he would let nothing hurt her.

But there was Vivien, sleeping soundly downstairs, her pain soothed away for a little while. And Angel knew what he had to do.

"We have to get Buffy out," he said, and watched their faces transform into shock, and then, after a moment, understanding.

*

There was a faint scent clinging to the pillow, somehow familiar but still elusive. It was a comforting scent, conjuring up the picture of dark eyes and strength, but Vivien still couldn't place it. Just like she couldn't place the bed she was lying on, or the feel of silk against her cheek. Silk…She didn't know anyone with silk sheets…

Angel, she thought coherently, and sat up, looking around his bedroom. She remembered talking to him for a long time, and gradually getting so tired her eyes would barely stay open…she must have fallen asleep, and he must have carried her in here. She rana hand through her hair, trying to straighten it and wishing he had a mirror somewhere, then stood up, glancing at the clock. It was nearly six, she'd certainly slept long enough…

She straightened her clothing and ran another hand through her hair, walking out of the bedroom and then quickly up the stairs. She saw Angel's back through the window, and a glimpse of red that was Willow's hair. They were all talking. Suddenly she was shy. Would they look at her differently now? She was no longer just Buffy's daughter. Now she was Buffy and Angel's child…a younf woman that according to all mental and physical laws should not even exist. What did that make her?

Vivien. It made her Vivien. She squared her shoulders and began walking again, pausing just before she opened the door, frowning at the words she heard from the outside rooms.

"—nearly impossible," Willow said.

"You can do it," Angel replied calmly.

"And then there's the whole issue of what we're going to do once we get her here. You really want to take bets she'll be nice and sane because we ask her to?" Xander asked, bitterness and hurt in his voice.

Vivien froze, hardly breathing. They couldn't be…it was impossible…

"We'll figure it out," Angel said firmly. "We have to bring Buffy here."

Vivien made a small noise, unable to help herself. Angel turned and she stepped out into the room. "You can't," she said. "You can't do that."

They were all silent, knowing that she had every right to say what she would to them.

"We have to," Angel said finally. He didn't reach for her. He gave her that much at least.

"No!" Vivien exclaimed, her gaze fixing on him, and then moving to Willow, then to Xander. "Do you understand what you're doing? You can't use her like that! She's not sane! Whatever you say! Maybe it is just visions but…she's a danger to other people and herself! She's sick! How could you even think of using her?"

"Cordelia saw it," Angel replied. "She has to be here to fight with us. And she said so as well. She told you."

"Yes, but she's also told me that-that—" Vivien broke off, unable to put into words some of the things that had crossed her mother's lips in the last seven years. Her eyes were dark and accusing as she turned them back to Angel. "This is your responsibility. Don't put it on her. She's weak, she hasn't fought in years…" The look changed to pleading as Angel did not relent. "She could die. Please Angel?"

"I'm sorry," Angel whispered, his mask softening slightly, but the resolve staying in his eyes. Vivien's eyes filled with tears despite herself and she shook her head.

"I don't understand. Why do you have to do this?"

"Because despite everything's that's happened to her, Buffy is still one of, if not the best, Slayers that have ever lived and…we will need all the help we can get," Angel informed her. Vivien bit her lips and nodded, understanding, but not liking it any better for that. Couldn't they just leave her in peace? She had already lost so much…

"Buffy would want to do this," Xander said quietly, stepping towards her. Vivien looked up at him, startled. "She'll want to fight."

"Thanks," Vivien whispered. "It doesn't mean I want her to though."

"Well now you know how she feels," Willow pointed out.

Vivien gave her a small, bittersweet smile, and was glad when Angel took her hand.

*

At 3:45 the next morning, a yawning orderly was called from his post on Litchman Mental Institute's High Security floor down to the front desk. At 3:40, the roof security system was turn off for five minutes—long enough for two shadows to slip through the roof access fire escape and down into High Security. At 3:47 the security system for the doors into the High Security cells was turned off and the two shadows slipped inside. The orderly was on his way downstairs. At 3:48 the force field guarding Buffy Summers from the outside world (or perhaps the outside world from Buffy Summers) was turned off. The Slayer was awake and waiting for them.

"You have to take the chip out," she whispered as they walked into her cell. They exchanged glanced. What chip? "It can track me, and knock me unconscious."

"Where is it?" Angel asked.

"In my neck."

"Do they do regular checks?" Xander asked.

"Not until six."

"We'll get it out once we're out of here then," Angel decided. "Come on." He grabbed Buffy's hand and at 3:49 they were back through the doors and on their down the back stairs. At 3:50 the orderly returned by elevator, annoyed at the false alarm, spoke into the security system at the doors and returned to his post.

At 3:52 three shadows slipped silently by the front office, where a security guard played computer games and yawned regularly. At 3:53 the front doors opened for thirty seconds. Three people walked out.

At 3:55 Buffy Summers, the Slayer, sat in a car for the first time in seven years, watching intently her daughter. The last time she'd walked free, Vivien hadn't even had her learner's permit.

"Let's get out of here," Angel said, and Vivien stepped on the gas.

*

"Are you going to tie her up?" Cordelia asked, coming to stand beside Angel, who watched from the doorway as Buffy slept restlessly on his bed. They'd removed the chip from the base of her skull the night before with a doctor Angel trusted absolutely. Now Buffy slept, though obviously not well. He wondered what disturbed her: visions of terror, or memories of the last time she had lain in his bed.

"Only if we have to," Angel replied quietly. "For Vivien's sake, it would be better if…if we didn't."

"For Vivien's sake, it would be better if we'd never broken her out at all," Cordelia snapped. Angel turned dark eyes on her, eyes that knew more than they would say. That it was for Vivien's sake alone Buffy was walking free again.

Buffy whimpered, curling tighter on the bed. She was so thin, with dark bruises around her eyes from sleeplessness, and shadows everywhere on her. They seemed to follow her, slipping into her eyes, the hollows of her cheeks, her hands…

"Gunn's coming," Cordelia told him. "Wesley found a book he thinks will help."

"Good." Cordelia hesitated, then plunged ahead.

"Angel, I know you still love her." He looked away from Buffy's frail, troubled form, slightly startled. Cordelia's eyes were dark as well, and worried. "Just…don't do anything stupid? Please?"

"I won't," Angel promised, though he knew his idea of stupid and hers were far apart. It seemed to satisfy her though, at least a little.

"I'm going to call Wesley again, see if he's found anything yet."

"Thanks," Angel said softly, turning his head back to Buffy, as if he couldn't keep his eyes away from her long. She just kept drawing them back and back…Cordelia turned and walked away slowly (he could hear her movement), hesitating with each step. Finally she quickened her pace and was gone in a moment.

Buffy cried out, pain and horror obvious. Her hands clutched at something invisible. Angel walked forward and sat down the bed, stroking her arm soothingly, murmuring softly, hoping she could hear him.

"Angel?" she whispered, opening her eyes a little. He smiled gently at her and the smile that suffused her face was radiant, beautiful. "There's going to be a baby," she said softly. "Our baby." Her face fell. "I'm sorry I can't tell you."

"It's all right love," he whispered, bending to kiss away a tear. She smiled softly again and closed her eyes, one arm wrapping around him, clinging to him as she drifted away to sleep again. And Angel tasted for the first time in years, the salt of his own tears.

Part Ten

"What did you find?" Angel asked. There was a pause as Wesley contemplated just how much to tell him. Angel waited patiently.

"I'm afraid…a leriki demon is nearly invincible. Their hide is covered with armor and there are no weak spots. You cannot cute it with a knife and heavy objects will just bounce right off."

"What about explosives?"

"Perhaps, if you surrounded it as Buffy did the Mayor…but even a rocket wouldn't cause that much damage. It would hurt, but not lethally.

"So how is it killed?" Angel demanded. "There's a way. I can hear it in your voice."

Wesley hesitated again. "There is, but…I must warn you Angel, it will be of no use to you."

"What is it?"

"Well, the roof of its mouth is soft and would be easy to drive a sword through or something. The author of the text I found wasn't certain, but he believed that their brain was directly above the back of their mouth, so if one stabbed upwards, one could concievably kill them with one blow. It's impossible however."

"Why?" Angel demanded.

"Even if someone could get past the sword-like teeth, the leriki's saliva is poisonous. It creates welts if it comes in contact with skin and it is very painful. Being in the thing's mouth would kill anyone within moments."

"Any human."

"Angel, you cannot do this," Wesley said sternly. Angel was silent. He didn't want to…he thought of Vivien's smile and wanted, suddenly, to live forever. Or at least a very long time, so he could see her. But he would rather that she be alive to smile and he dead than that he live forever without her. "Please Angel. People need you."

"Yes," Angel replied quietly. "They do. Thank you for all your help."

"It's the least I can do," the former-Watcher said quietly. "Please Angel, don't try and sacrifice yourself."

Angel thought about Buffy and Vivien and all the others and didn't say a word.

*

Buffy knew exactly where she was when she woke up. For a moment, she wasn't sure when she was though.

Sweet, melting ice cream, warm body, heart beat thump-thump, so peaceful, so happy…

No. This was later, and they'd broken her out of the hospital. She was free.

Soft silk, smooth, velvet skin, lips, hands, everywhere, so soft…

She pushed herself to her feet and slid off the bed, padding out into the apartment, up the stairs.

Why is he unhappy? Another perfect day, we're supposed to have another perfect day…but his face…

They're all in the outer office talking. Angel, and Vivien, Cordelia, Xander and sweet, trustworthy Willow who had kept her secret so long.

"So the only way to kill it is to jump inside it's poisonous mouth and stab through the roof of it's mouth, dodging teeth and saliva that makes your skin burn off?" Xander demanded.

"Yeah," Angel agreed.

Buffy bit down on a whimper.

So hot, burning, HURTS, have to, one more thing, have to save, protect, PAIN.

"Great," Xander muttered.

"There's got to be another way," Willow said firmly. "If we can lure it inside an abandoned building or something, we could blow it up like we did the Mayor."

"What abandoned building?" Cordelia asked. "It's just gonna go nicely in cause we ask?"

"No," Angel said, "But it'll follow us." They turned as one to look at Angel, and then at Vivien, and Buffy closed her eyes.

Won't let them take them, NO, must stop, must save, hot, scalding, MUST.

She took one last, long look at her daughter, looking older than twenty-two, tired and worried, and she turned and went back downstairs.

*

Angel explained that the demon was after him. He didn't mention Vivien, but they all knew it anyhow. She bit the inside of her cheeks very hard and resolved not to show that she was afraid. It wouldn't help anyone. She had to be strong. She had to seem strong. They all did. The irony struck her for a moment—all these people, scared out of their wits, pretending to be strong for each other.

As Angel was finishing explaining his plan, the door opened and tall, middle-aged (but still handsome) black man walked in. Cordelia lit up and he walked right over and kissed her deeply. Xander's eyebrows shot up.

"Hi," he whispered to Cordelia when he pulled away for her to catch a breath.

"Hi honey." She slipped farther away and turned to Willow and Xander. "This is my husband, Charles Gunn. Gunn, this is Willow Rosenburg, and Xander Harris. We were friends—and I use the word 'friends' in the vaguest sense—during high school." Vivien smiled slightly as Cordelia and Gunn turned to her. "This is Vivien M—"

"McKeely," Vivien finished, with a glance at Angel. He had no expression. "For now anyway." Cordelia nodded understanding. Gunn was watching her with a speculative expression, and Vivien figured he'd heard about her from Cordelia already.

"And you know Angel," Cordelia finished. Gunn grinned suddenly and walked forward to clasp Angel's hand.

"It's the dead white dude!" he exclaimed. Angel smiled; it was obviously an old joke between them. Xander grinned.

"I like this guy already," he murmured to Willow, who elbowed him in the stomach.

*

The second time Buffy woke—though this time she hadn't really been asleep—Angel was sitting on the side of the bed watching her. She lay still, her eyes fixed on him as his were on her.

"Do you hate me?" she asked. He didn't look startled, not as startled as he once would have anyway.

"You know the answer to that," he replied.

"I would have once," she murmured. "But that was twenty three years ago. And I had never taken away your life then. Just your heart."

"You will always know the answer," Angel replied steadily. Buffy didn't smile up at him, still didn't move, not for a long moment. And then her hand snaked out and touched his, laying in it quietly. They sat there for a long time, the Slayer with her wild hair, and hollowed eyes, and Angel, quiet and hurting for her, for himself, for everything. They hadn't touched in twenty three years.

"Do the visions come and go?" Angel asked finally. Buffy stiffened slightly, her thin little body tensing as if with pain.

"They're always there," she said in a flat voice, unreadable. "Always."

"What do you see now?" Angel asked. He hand clenched in his, but he didn't move.

"I see you. And…beyond you…horror. Pain. Death. Hot and burning, with terrible claws…" She broke off, whimpering incoherently.

"We'll defeat it Buffy," Angel soothed, "You'll see. And the visions will go away. You won't have to see anything that isn't there."

"Won't I?" Buffy whispered. "Angel, I've been remembering a day that doesn't exist since I was nineteen."

"That is a miracle, not a curse," Angel promised, his voice rough despite himself. She was still laying quite still on his bed, one hand idly caressing the quilt.

"How do you know?" she asked in a pleading whisper.

And to that there was no answer at all.

*

Vivien passed through the empty office, reflecting that now it seemed odd to have no one in it. For the last week it had been full of people at all hours, discussing, planning…but now everbody had gone to get dinner and do more planning…everyone but Angel, who didn't eat, and Vivien, who wasn't hungry. She started down the stairs.

About halfway down she began to hear odd sounds; small grunts and then the unmistakable thud of flesh hitting flesh. "Oh god," she whispered, "Angel." Her mother was down there too…She ran the rest of the way down, and stopped completely when she reached the bottom of the staircase, staring at the scene ahead of her.

Buffy and Angel were fighting, flowing smoothly across the room, intent on each other. Vivien's parents, she thought suddenly. These were her parents. She stood, horrified, watching, wondering if her mother even saw Angel, if she even knew it was he she attacked. But at the same time…if it hadn't been so awful, it would almost have been beautiful. They moved together perfectly, every blow, every counter, in rhythm. It was like an elaborate, deadly pas de deux. Her parents. Fighting.

"What's going on?" Vivien demanded, her voice cutting across the lethal music of a fight. They stopped, Buffy's hair falling across her face, her arm against Angel's.

"We were sparring," Angel said, looking tired, though not out of breath (since he didn't need it). Buffy was panting slightly.

"I'm out of shape," she explained, brushing her hair back, for a moment looking normal, looking like the mother Vivien had once known, competent, witty…Vivien's heart froze at the thought. It wasn't the same. Her mother wasn't better. She couldn't believe for a second that she was or…

"We didn't mean to frighten you," Angel said, sounding a bit worried, even forlorn. Vivien summoned a smile.

"No…no, it's fine, I just…didn't know what was going on." Buffy and Angel exchanged a glance and then Buffy turned to face Vivien. The younger woman noticed that Buffy was wearing the clothes she'd brought over for her, a pair of capris and tank top. She looked young and…almost normal again. Except for her eyes.

"Viv?" Buffy whispered.

"Mommy?" Vivien replied, unable to hold away any longer. Buffy held out her arms and Vivien rushed into them. It had been so long since she'd been able to touch her mother, to be held…

"Are you angry with me? For not telling you?" Buffy asked, stroking her daughter's hair softly.

"A little," Vivien replied truthfully. "But you had your reasons."

"Yes I did," Buffy whispered. She pulled away suddenly, turning away to stare around the room as if looking for something. Vivien frowned slightly, confused at her sudden withdrawal and looked to Angel. He had no help to offer her, but held out a hand for comfort. She took it. Turned away from them, Buffy smiled.

*

Angel sat on his couch, pillowing his daughter's head in his lap, and wondered how he had gotten to this place. What had he done to deserve a daughter? A beautiful, amazing young woman like this?

Buffy's visions had intensified, and she'd ended up raving and in pain again, until Angel held her down and Vivien injected her with a sedative. Now she was on the bed, and Vivien was laying on the couch, her hand curling idly on Angel's thigh, her blond hair a stark contract to his black clothing. She was staring off into nothing, but it was different nothing than what Buffy saw. Of that much at least he was sure.

"Angel?" Vivien asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"Do you still love her?" There was no need to ask who she meant. Both of their minds were attuned to Buffy Summers McKeely.

"Always."

Vivien smiled softly, still staring off into space. "So when I was conceived…you were happy then, weren't you?"

"Happy doesn't begin to describe it," Angel whispered. "I'd never known true joy for more than a second. And all at once there was a whole day of it. It was perfection." It still hurt, to think of what had been lost, but now there was something gained as well. Vivien. Who was still smiling.

"I always thought…I always thought I was a mistake. Just the result of my mom getting drunk and not having the courage to get an abortion."

Angel hand tightened in her hair. "How could you think that?"

"What else was there to think?" She'd lost the smile, and she turned and looked up at him, with wide, sad dark eyes. "But now I know. Now I know that she was happy."

"You were the only thing that kept her alive," Angel promised, knowing it as surely as he knew himself.

"What kept you alive?" Vivien asked, staring up at him with his own dark eyes.

"I'm not alive," Angel reminded her softly, with a tiny mocking smile directed at herself. She shook her head.

"You're lying."

"Memories I suppose. Hope for the future." He didn't mention that one day he might become human again. Hope could work against a person too, if it was crushed.

"How do you keep hope?" Vivien asked. "After everything? I lost it a long time ago…"

"No you didn't," Angel replied truthfully. "You may think you did but…but you wouldn't be here if you hadn't had some hope. Why would you have come to work for me, trying to help people, if you had no hope that it would ever work?"

"Because there's nothing else I can do. Even if I think it's worthless, I have to try," Vivien explained, something in her eyes, so very young at this moment, so old at others, pleading with him to understand. He did of course.

"I know. I know. I also know that you are one of the most amazing people I have ever met." Her lips twitched upwards and she back over onto her side, staring into space once more.

"You have to say that," she teased. "You're my father."

And deep within him, Angel felt unexpected joy bloom in this time of darkness.

Part Eleven

There was no rain. No clouds. California withered. Water was strictly controlled. There were no real showers allowed, only chemical ones, and no water for anything but drinking. Half the population had started wearing special glasses to protect against the dust that filled the air.

The moon waned smaller every night

The Slayer trained, and slept the uneasy sleep of a prophet, and hid the pain that tore through her.

Angel planned, and waited.

Vivien watched, and wondered what it was that no one was saying.

And then one night the moon rose full when it should have been dark, and covered the land with bright light.

And beneath that light, the Last Task began.

*

He was worried about Angel…Well, Wesley was often worried about Angel, but this time more than usual. There had been something in his old friend's voice, something new, different…something that frightened Wesley. He knew, of course, about Buffy and Angel's daughter, Cordelia had told him all about it…but he didn't know what was going through Angel's mind because of it. He didn't know to what lengths Angel would go to protect them. And that scared him.

Which was why he didn't notice at first that the moon rising over the English countryside was bright, when it should have been noticeably absent. That it was large and round, completely full, on e night when itshould have been shrouded in darkness.

And then he did notice, and his breath caught in his throat and he turned his wheelchair from the window to hurry towards the phone.

*

"It's tonight," Angel said, hanging up the phone. "There's a full moon tonight."

"So?" Cordelia asked.

"When the full moon rises and the land cracks with heat," Buffy whispered in the voice of prophecy.

"It's the dark of the moon," Angel explained. "There should be no moon tonight…and instead there is a full one. It is tonight." He turned to look at Buffy as Vivien drew him a quick, hurtful breath. "Where?"

"The Hellmouth," Buffy replied, her eyes far away. Then they returned and a slight, odd smile creased her face. "Where else?"

"We better go then," Angel said, looking around at his gathered friends. Willow and Xander stood close, as always, taking comfort from the presence of their oldest friend. Cordelia stood within the circle of Gunn's arms, both face serious for once. Vivien sat on a table by herself. Buffy paced the room with restless energy and yet an odd sort of stillness. And Angel stood by the phone, memorizing all their faces.

"Yes," Buffy whispered. "Let's go."

*

Vivien and Buffy held hands all the too-short drive. Angel was at the steering wheel, trying not to look over at them, trying not to think about how precious they were to him. Trying not to think of what was to come, or what had been.

But it was hard not to remember. Not to feel the sun on his face again as they drove down the highway. It was hard not to hear her soft laughter, feel the warmth of her skin, when the living embodiment of that day was sitting right beside him, holding tightly to her mother's hand.

What was it like to be a memory? he wondered. Was Vivien different from the rest of humankind? Was she shaped of a separate substance? Not flesh and blood but dreams and happiness? But no, there had been more than that on that day. There had been tears as well, and blood, and pain. She was all of it. Everything they could have had together.

She would walk away from this whole. Angel would make sure of that.

Vivien didn't know what her father was thinking at that moment, at any of the moments. Neither did she know the visions, the pain, the memories that engulfed her mother. What she did know was that she was sitting between two people that had created her together, that loved each other and her, and that were both going to face their doom. Perhaps she was too. She didn't know. But she was frightened, so she held her mother's hand, and looked up at the sky—it was evening now, so Angel could go—and prayed to whatever gods there were that they would all see morning.

*

They stood in a circle outside the warehouse that had been built near the Hellmouth. Willow had brought her laptop and hacked into the security system of the building, so they'd walked right in and filled the thing with explosives. It would be hard to fit the whole demon in, since it would probably be as tall as the building itself, but they thought if they could get it to stick it's head in, that would be enough to kill it. They hoped anyway.

"I'll lure it in," Angel said, his tone brooking no argument. But Buffy's eyes sparked and she shook her head.

"No, you have to protect Vivien."

"This is the best way to protect her," he argued. "The demon wants me. It will try to get me. You and Vivien need to stay far enough away you won't distract it…and you need to be there to protect her should it go after her. Besides, I can jump out the other side of the building easily once the demon's inside. It has to be me."

The rest of the circle was silent, watching the battle of wills between these two superhuman figures, dark and light, over who would fight and who would protect the child they had made together. The child who was watching them.

"Stop it," she commanded, as Buffy opened her mouth to argue again. "I'm right here, I'm a living person. You don't get to decide for me. I'm going to help fight. I'm not going to run away. I can do some magic, I'm going to help Aunt Will." Willow had found a spell encouraging a change of direction, so she was going to try and "encourage" the leriki to go into the building.

Buffy and Angel exchanged a long glance but neither of them could argue with Vivien's dark, burning gaze. Buffy closed her eyes and whimpered, and Xander and Willow put their arms around her at once, holding her up as her eyes opened and fixed on empty air. Angel took Vivien's hand, and Gunn drew Cordelia closer to him.

"I'll lure it in," Angel repeated, and this time no one argued with him, for Buffy probably hadn't even heard the words, caught up in horrific memories of something that had not yet come.

*

It would be over soon.

Burning, pain, searing, boiling skin, bursting, hot, HOT pain.

No more pain. No more seeing things that weren't there. No more hurt in those dark eyes she loved so much. Just peace, finally, and the knowledge that they were safe. That she was safe. And they were together, as they should have been so long ago.

Darkness, vast and terrible, claws, ripping, tearing, hurting, screaming on and on, eyes blank, gone, NO.

Buffy kissed her daughter's forehead, ignoring the worry in the dark eyes. It would be gone soon. No more fear. No more hurt. Over.

Flying, down, down, into heat, into pain, save her, save them, down, into Hell, over, over, over.

Her face was serene as she looked across the parking lot, fixed her eyes on the dark figure. He turned, as if called by her gaze and their eyes met. One last time, she thought through the haze of visions that made no sense, or too much.

Sunlight, turning and there he is, walking, sun falling across his face, so bright, so beautiful, human, it's real, love wells up so quickly, so much joy, so much light, perfection.

I love you, she whispered in her mind and hoped he heard. And then she turned away, and picked up a weapon, and prepared for the end. It would be over soon. No more heartache. No more pain, pounding through her temples, raking her body. Just peace.

*

"She'll be okay," Willow promised as she took Vivien's hands. Vivien tore her gaze away from her mother, who was calmly preparing to fight, though there was much more in her eyes.

"I've never seen her like this before," Vivien whispered as she turned to look at her second mother.

"I have," Willow assured her. "She always wanted to protect you…so you never saw her fighting. You never saw what she can do. But she's amazing, I promise you that. She's the best slayer this world has ever seen. She'll be all right. We all will."

Vivien wanted to believe it. She wanted so much to believe it. But she thought of the look in Angel's eyes when he kissed her on the forehead before walking towards the house, the way her mother's eyes caressed her before she turned to get her weapons…When the sun rose, something was going to be different, she knew it, though she couldn't have said how. Something was going to change, and she had the awful feeling it wouldn't be for the better. She was going to lose something beneath that full moon. Or someone.

The ground started to rock. It was so hot, so opressively hot. The air seemed to press down on them, pinning them stealing the breath from them and replacing it with pure heat. Vivien looked down, as the ground beneath her feet moved, noticing for the first time the ground that should have been grassy and was now brown and cracked with heat. There had been no rain for so long…for years, she thought, looking at her mother, and then to her father, in the window of the large building.

There was a large sound in the distance—where the Hellmouth was, Vivien thought, and then the earth stopped shaking and there was silence for a long moment.

Then the leriki came into view.

All the descriptions she'd heard didn't come close. It was painful to the eyes, though she couldn't say why, it just was. As it came closer, the heat intensified, until she thought the very air would burn her skin. From it's hands and feet extended claws, each the length of a sword, or longer, sharpened and gleaming in the moonlight.

Vivien shivered in the heat and knew she was very, very afraid.

"Now," Willow whispered, and Vivien wrenched her attention back to the redhead. She looked into her foster mother's eyes and whispered with her the words of the spell, closing her eyes as they said together, "So mote it be."

She envisioned the building, tall, wide, and her father in one window, and set the complusion around the vision. And then she waited, pouring herself into the spell.

Until something inside her shattered and she opened her eyes in time to see her nightmares coming true.

*

Angel waited, watching it come closer, feeling the opressive heat. He lifted the sword in his hand slightly, turning it. He'd told them it was just in case, but of course it wasn't. It was the plan all along. He didn't believe he could really lure the thing inside, and even if he did, he doubted the explosives would kill it. Wound it maybe, but not kill it. Angel had to do that.

He thought about what it was like to be human. Cordelia was sure this was his last task. He smiled at the irony. His last task, and it was the one he would not survive.

But Buffy would survive it. Vivien would survive it. Those were the important things. He could die without feeling the sun again. He didn't need to taste chocolate, of feel Buffy's soft skin against his…He'd lived a long time knowing he would live a lot longer, and it almost felt good to have an ending to it. Peace, at last. No more atonement. No more guilt. No more pain in the faces of those he loved. Just an ending, knowing they were safe.

It's eyes fixed on him and whether it was Willow's spell or simply the own creature's desire, it came, step by step, towards him. Towards where he wanted it to be.

Buffy was ready to harry it's legs if need be, or to defend Vivien and Willow. Near her, Xander, Cordelia and Gunn also waited. But Angel knew they wouldn't need to put themselves in danger.

Except…Buffy was. His brows drew together as he saw her dart forward towards the leriki. No, she couldn't…he wouldn't let her put herself in danger…

And while the leriki demon was distrated, it's mouth hanging slightly open, Angel said goodbye to the stars, gripped his sword tighter and whispered, "I love you," to both of them.

And then he jumped into the mouth of Hell.

Part Twelve

It was for more painful than he'd expected. Every bit of his body was aflame, blistering, his skin peeling away from his flesh. He didn't die, because he was a vampire, but he screamed, and the burning slid down his throat, into his lungs, crackling from the inside out.

It hurt, but he had a task. He thought of two pairs of eyes, one bright, one dark, and his thrust his sword upward. The demon convulsed around him, jaws snapping shut, searching for the annoyance inside. It was hurt, but not dead. Angel pulled back the sword as it's tongue wrapped around him, dragging him towards those razor sharp teeth, swords to gouge his flesh, take off his head, kill him truly. His sword flashed, cut whatever was pulling at him and he thrust upwards again, up and up, until the demon howled and convulsed once and died, and in that moment flame overtook him.

Angel burned, and then there was peace.

*

Buffy's scream went on for a very long time.

Hot, pain, hurt, burning, boiling, scalding, skin ripping, save, must stop, PAIN, find peace, soon, over, HURTS, kill her NO, stop, must stop, save them, burning, hands ache, sword lost, found, there, THERE, thrust, pain, NO, God, please, stop, over, over, over.

Over.

And as the demon fell to the ground, lifeless, bleeding, and Buffy's scream ended, whether because the pain was gone or merely her voice, the moon dissapeared and it began to rain.

*

Water dripped off of her hair, slid down her face so she couldn't tell what was tears and what was rain, soaked through her summer clothes and tried to wash away the pain. It failed, of course.

"Shh," she whispered, her arms closing gently around the keening, rocking form of her mother. "Shh, it's all right."

"It was mine," Buffy whispered hoarsely. "My death. My ending. It was mine."

Vivien tried not to stiffen in shock, didn't let herself pull away. "No, no, don't you see, you're alive. You're with me. The danger's gone. It'll be all right." She wasn't really sure how she managed to say these things. Her mind was numb, her heart cold and shattered. He was dead. She had just found him, finally found him and he was gone. And her mother…her mother was a broken wreck, who wished that she was dead instead.

Vivien wanted warm, safe arms to crawl into but there weren't any. Angel had died for her. To keep her safe. She'd never had the chance to know him. She had his eyes and she never had the chance to know his heart.

"No," Buffy sobbed. "He's gone. My Angel…It wasn't supposed to be like this. He stole my death. It was mine."

"No, Mommy, no," Vivien pleaded, terrified that Buffy was still insane, that Buffy would try and kill herself, as if she really should be dead now. She couldn't take that. She just couldn't. She'd go insane herself. "I need you here. I need you."

"I'm nothing now," Buffy sobbed, the rain covering her face, washing away age, collecting in the dark hollows of her eyes. "I had my time. I had you, for all those years. I wanted to give them to him. To give you to him and him to you. But he stole it. He stole my ending. How could he? How could he give up his chance at life?"

"He loved you Mommy," Vivien cried, pulling back enough to cradle her mother's face in her hands. She realized they were kneeling on the soaking concrete, and that their friends were all around, crying, or maybe it was just the rain. What did it matter? He was dead. Her father was dead. And her mother was leaving her. "And he loved me. He wanted us to be safe, and happy."

"How?" Buffy cried harshly, pulling away. "How am I supposed to be happy? Everything I ever wanted was taken away!" Her voice softened. "Except you. And you're not really mine anymore. You're so much stronger than I ever was."

"Stop it," Vivien whispered. "You'll be all right now. Are the visions over? Did they stop?"

"What does it matter?" Buffy asked bitterly. "I still see them anyway. I still see him. Maybe I really am crazy."

Vivien shook her head, and cried for the deep ache of loss inside her, and wished she was really as strong as everyone seemed to think she was.

*

It was so quiet.

There was Vivien, crying, and the rain, washing over her, and people around but…but nothing more. It was so silent, so empty, so utterly peaceful. Maybe she had died. Maybe that was her own pain she'd felt. But no…no…Angel wasn't there. Angel was gone. Angel had stolen her death, given up the happiness she owed him, and left her here alone, in the stillness, seeing his eyes.

She felt numb inside, all the way through. Numb and cold and empty. The visions had flowed out of her as if she was a vessel that had sprung a leak. There was no more pain…nothing. For seven years she'd been living memories—memories of the future, of the past, of things that would never be. And now she was just living life, alone, with no Kevin, no Angel. Nothing to make life worth living. There was Vivien of course…Vivien, who had Angel's eyes. She'd been Buffy's life, for so many years. But she was all grown up now. She couldn't live for Buffy. She shouldn't have to.

Buffy should have died. He'd stolen her death.

It was so quiet. Even the sound of the rain was nothing. There was no heat anymore, no burning. No terrible ripping of claws. No fear, no horror. Nothing at all. She wanted to hold Vivien, to soothe her, to be her mother, but she didn't know how anymore. She wanted to cry, to mourn, but she didn't know how to do that either. Memories were easier to live than life—they didn't require action. So Buffy sat and shivered in the rain, because she didn't know what else to do, and she didn't know if the water on her face was tears or raindrops, or if she'd ever feel anything again.

Angel was gone. Not for a little while this time. Really gone, forever. She was empty, and alone.

And it was so quiet.

*

Nothing hurt anymore, which is how he knew he was dead.

He opened his eyes and turned, looking around him. It took him a moment to realize where he was standing, it had been so long…It was the garden in his father's house, where he played as a child, where he taught his younger sister how to climb trees…It was empty now, and silent, but exactly as it had been in those long ago days of his childhood.

"Why am I here?" he murmured to the air, and when he turned around the Oracles were standing there, watching him. "You're dead."

"So we are," the female Oracle replied.

"So too are you," the male pointed out. Angel acknowledged it with a nod.

"Is this the afterlife?" he asked, looking around the calm, serene garden. His mother had built it with her own hands, loved it and nurtured it…and he had killed her. Long, long ago.

"This?" the woman asked, looking around her. "No. This is but a…resting place. We have much to tell you."

Angel closed his eyes against the pain of that thought. It was supposed to be over now. No more worry, no more heartache. Couldn't they leave him in peace?

"I killed the leriki," he stated, hoping it was true.

"You did. It was your last task."

"I know."

"And your most important." Angel opened his eyes at that.

"Why? And why are you here speaking to me?"

"You gave up your life just when you had the chance to truly live it," the woman murmured.

"I know that. And if you're trying to get me to take it back, you're wrong. I would do it again in a second."

"We have not the power to take back a death," the man told him. "And we would not take back yours if we had it. You died for a reason. The same reason you came to us years ago and asked us to take back your humanity."

Angel regarded them quizzically. The same reason? To save Buffy he supposed…

"For your daughter," the woman corrected, as if reading his mind.

"But I didn't know about her then…and if I had, I might not have asked to be changed back…"

"In which case she would have died today," the woman told him gently. "Or years ago. It was necessary that you be a demon, in order to protect her. As it was necessary that you died today."

"But why…"

"The Powers have plans they do not reveal even to us. We do not know why the Child is so important, only that she is. She was not born of humans, but of memories, and the Powers themselves. They gave life to love, to a day that never took place, and created a hope for the future. Your task on Earth was to create that love, and to keep her alive, keep her safe."

Angel was unsure how to absorb the news that his daughter was destined for something…something that made his life obselete except in relation to hers. He didn't care that his purpose had been only to keep her safe. He would have said that himself, without prompting from higher beings. But to know she had a further purpose—that she would have to suffer more—that hurt. And to know he would not be there to protect her when that time came was nearly as bad.

"And Buffy?" Angel asked. "What purpose to her life? To her suffering?"

"You had to be prepared. Both of you had to be prepared, in case one faltered. You had to know what you would face, and that if you failed, the Child would die. Only that knowledge could have forced you both to such a sacrifice."

"I would have died for Buffy," Angel protested, knowing it was true.

"But not if you didn't know she was in danger." He couldn't argue with that, though the knowledge that the visions that had wracked Buffy for years, that had locked her away from life, had been sent not by Evil, but by Good…

"So you sent those visions?" he asked quietly.

"No," the male replied. "The Powers opened her mind to memory, to possibility—of what had been, of what would be, and of what might be, if you and she failed."

"And now?"

"Her mind is her own again."

"What if she's already insane?"

"The Child lives. One life, or two, is nothing to what would come if she had died."

"And Vivien?" Angel whispered, afraid of the answer.

"We cannot tell you what her purpose is, or what she will suffer to complete it. But know that she is strong enough, and she will prevail, and that there is joy for all in their time."

"Not for me," Angel murmured, despite himself. Yet there had been joy…that forgotten day, seeing Vivien smile…But not enough. Never enough.

"Do not speak so hastily," the female Oracle berated him. "For we have not done."

"Years ago, one of your friends translated a prophecy for you. After you finished your tasks, he said you would shansu—die. So he thought at first, but he was wrong. He continued to search, and found another meaning to the word—to live. But again, he was mistaken." Angel frowned, wondering what they were saying. Was he going to be stuck in some not-death? But he had died. They had addmitted that much.

The female Oracle opened her mouth and began to speak, and Angel felt a strange thing wash over him, a feeling he remembered like a dream, from so long ago. He thought it might be happiness.

"The true meaning is not to die, or to live," she told him. "It is both. You gave your life for love, and now the Powers are returning it to you. As we said, there is joy for all in their time."

And the garden vanished and Angel smiled as the rain fell on his face.

Part Thirteen

At first, Buffy thought the visions had returned. After all, how many times had she seen him before, walking towards her, a pulse beating in the hollow of his throat, smiling softly? How many thousands of times…

But this time was different. She still felt…empty. As if everything around her were too real.

And all of a sudden she realized it wasn't him. Or…it was—his eyes were too familiar, there was no mistaking his walk, or his forehead or the way his mouth turned upward so slightly…but he had wrinkles about those beautiful dark eyes. There were lines on his previously smooth face. He wasn't old but he was not twenty-seven anymore either. Which returned her mind to the thought of a vision. After all, he was dead, and this was obviously not real, something she'd never seen in life and yet…

Rain danced in his hair, poured down his face like a river. And Vivien was crying out something, and standing up and running to him and he smiled at her and opened his arms…but all Buffy could do was kneel in the rain and look up at him, knowing that she really had lost her mind. She was going to have to go back…back to those small white rooms, locked away from the world. She wouldn't have to learn to live after all. The visions had left her and yet she still didn't see the real world.

"How are you back?" Vivien was asking in her vision when she pulled away from Angel's embrace enough to look him in the face. "And you're…older."

"The Powers That Be gave me my life back," Angel told her, and Buffy registered a shriek—from Cordelia, she thought idly, through the haze of her thoughts. "As for my age…I think they gave me a year for every fifteen I lived as a vampire. Which would make me about forty four."

"You're human," Vivien breathed, and hugged him again, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Buffy couldn't see her daughter's face, but she could see Angel's—joy and love and fierce protectiveness echoed in the set of his jaw and his eyes as he embraced his daughter. She was glad for that much at least. Maybe that was the truth. Maybe what she was seeing was real, and she had died, she was a ghost now, sitting there watching all of this. But why then did she feel the rain, each drop washing away a little of her pain, leaving her emptier and emptier.

Vivien pulled away and Cordelia threw herself into Angel's embrace, openly weeping. "I knew you could do it," she cried. "I knew it." And then she pulled away, back to her husband, and left Angel standing alone, his clothing soaked and clinging to him, lines of joy and laughter creasing his still beautiful face. He had aged well, Buffy thought. He was no less handsome for being human, and middle-aged. Just more dignified. More at peace. Like the weight of all those years that had always shown in his eyes had found a place in the rest of him as well. His eyes had always looked to old for his face, an old man's pain in a young man's body, but now it fit. It was perfect. If anything, he was more beautiful.

And yet it was all a dream, or else she was dead. Except he was looking right at her.

If I speak to him, she wondered, will Vivien cry? Will they take me back to the hospital and throw away the key?

But he looked at her, and spoke first, and from the look in Vivien's dark eyes, Buffy wasn't the only one that could hear him. "I'm really here Buffy. It isn't a vision, I promise."

"They always say that," her voice whispered, a tiny smile twisting on her face. She looked up, away from him, into the gray sky, and closed her eyes while drops of rain fell onto her face. Let them wash away the memories. Wash away all the memories. Leave her empty and alone.

"Buffy," his voice whispered, from very close. He must have knelt down beside her, she thought. "Come back to us. We need you."

"I have nothing left to give," she murmured, and opened her eyes, and looked back to him. "Don't you understand Angel? I have nothing left. You should have let me die."

"I couldn't have, even if it would have been better. And it wouldn't have. I'm human now, and your visions are gone. You'll be all right, I promise. You're safe now. There's nothing left to haunt you."

"Memories," Buffy said. "That's all there ever was. The memories never go away."

"But they're just that…memories. You don't have to live them. You have life now, and Vivien, and me. Come back to us Buffy, we need you."

His tone was so persauding, so gentle and kind, and she'd heard it before, in all her good memories, all the happy ones where she'd loved him. But it was too late. She hadn't lived in years, she didn't remember how. She'd given all she had to bear Vivien, to keep her alive, to love her. She'd even loved a man as well, but he had died. And she'd loved Angel of course, but she'd lost him, twenty three years before, and now again, moments ago.

"You're dead," she told him.

"I'm alive," he countered.

"How?" she asked, but she wasn't really asking. She didn't wait for an answer, just continued, "I don't know how to be alive. It takes more than a heartbeat."

"It takes a heart," Angel replied. "And I know you have that."

"Why should I? It was broken a long time ago."

"But not dead. It never died."

"How would you know?"

"If it was dead, you would have told me about Vivien," Angel pointed out, and something inside her ached because it was true. She had hurt him because to do otherwise would hurt herself. But that had been a long time ago.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I loved you both too much. She was my life." Her gaze lifted to the blond, dark-eyed young woman watching them, and she wondered if the wetness on her face was tears or merely rain.

"But you can be your own life," Angel promised.

"I don't know how," Buffy protested again, weakly, still believing this was yet another vision that would in a moment degenerate into claws and burning. Had he really died? Or was that a vision too? She didn't even know what she'd seen anymore, what she'd felt…Tears stung her eyes. "I'm scared Angel. I don't know who I am, or who you are, or what's real anymore. Is this life? Or just a memory of it?"

"This is life," Angel promised. "This is love." He bent forward on that cold, wet pavement and brushed her lips with his, a promise, a gift. And she knew it wasn't a dream.

"Hold me Angel," she pleaded, and he folded her to his heart, his beating heart, and rocked her gently, whispering that it was real, and he loved her, and they would learn how to live together.

*

So they found each other at last, Vivien though, watching her parents kneeling together, oblivious to the world around them. After so many years, so much heartache…

"Why did it have to hurt so much?" she whispered to the rain while covered her, hiding the tears that coursed from her eyes. There was no answer. "Is she going to be okay?" Still no answer. A sob welled up, and for once, Vivien didn't try and hold it back, just let it come, as the tears came, as the rain came.

"How am I alive?" she asked finally, quietly so none of her friends would hear, or her parents. Her entire existence was an impossibility. Only two people in the entire world even remembered the 24 hours of her conception. Her gaze lingered on the couple, and her vision was so blurred they seemed to meld together, dark and light intermingling. Maybe two was enough. It didn't matter, she thought suddenly. Who cared if she shouldn't be alive, or how it was possible? She was. That was the important thing. She was alive.

The tears kept coming, but the long, painful drought was over, and Vivien began to smile.

SO???? What do you think? Was the ending too mushy? Was it too happy? FEEDBACK!

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