RATING: G to PG-14
DISCLAIMER: This is all *his* fault. Do I look, nonetheless *sound* like the idiot who invented that freaking Gypsy curse?
SYNOPSIS: There's an advantage to Buffy dying.
SPOILERS: Kinda AU with big 'IWRY' spoilers, the whole B/A canon, mentions the concept of 'Shanshu'.
DISTRIBUTION: Want it? Come get it and tell me where it's going.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is purely experimental as the first B/A fic I've sent out. It's a quickie fic based on theoretical Buffy/Angel stuff I've been throwing around. Yes, I know that it isn't likely that the shows would crossover for a grand finale. This is a *what-if* fic. Buffy died in the 5th season finale. I'm simply stating what could've happened if she survived the portal. It's also for, uh, *hint, hint* feedback purposes. Quotes are in //and thoughts are in italics.
DEDICATION: G.D---I'm on a sappy roll! I dug…and hey, I made a friggin' hole!
FEEDBACK: I swear, I'm using the patch. It's obviously not working.

Battles had been won. Enemies defeated.

The air was thick with the scent of death. But amidst the bodies of warriors---good and bad alike---two still held on to life.

One of the dark. The other, of light.

Both were Warriors of the same cause.

The blonde---a girl---was fated to die someday soon.

That someday soon was now.

Blood had stained her gritty shirt---Death's mark. She hardly noticed as she knelt beside her lover.

Happy tears splashed down her cheeks as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Breathing.

Angel was *breathing*.

She felt giddy and light-headed as she pressed her fingers against his chest, reveling in the soft thuds of his heartbeat.

Shakily, Buffy unclasped the chain of her cross necklace and fastened it around Angel's neck. She wiped her bloodstained hands against her jeans, rested her head against his shoulder and snuggled closer, ignoring the bright stain of red that began to grow on Angel's shirt when she moved closer. The faint whisper of his breaths stirred her hair ever so slightly.

Ironic, isn't it, how the best things in life---the ones you wait forever for---last for just a few fleeting moments?

Her head rose and fell with every breath he took. She didn't feel any pain---was that part of the deal? She couldn't remember. But she felt tired, drained, even.

A sad, wistful look crossed her face as reality backhanded her in the face.

/Death is your gift./

I'll never see him in the sunlight…

Or take him to the beach to see his first sunrise…

…And never split his first carton of cookie-dough-fudge-mint-chip ice cream with him.

Angel's arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer, as if he could anchor her in this reality. That little streak of protectiveness had never seemed to leave him---it always lingered, ex or no ex.

He loved me even when he left. And, as naive as I was, I thought he didn't.

He said I needed someone to take me into the light. I'm the Slayer---darkness walks with me and steps on whatever light touches me. Gave Riley the once-over and planted twisted thoughts into his head…thoughts that eventually booted him over to the vamp whore section of town. But I didn't love him. So why would I care? He annoyed me to death anyway. But everyone else---except Spike---loved him. Believe me, the only reason I went after that helicopter was because I found out his dirty little secret---he can't resist silk thongs and wonder bras. That, and I really wanted to beat him to death with a baseball bat whenever he tried to spike his hair. Well, better luck next time. But he really took me into the light, didn't he? I don't need the light. I never *wanted* the light.

I *know* Angel didn't leave just so I could find the human embodiment of a light bulb.

Somehow, he knew that I was constantly choosing between him and everyone else and that if he didn't leave, I'd have to make the final decision. He made it for me. I'm seeing a pattern. Seems like everyone likes to make decisions for me, with the traditional excuse being 'it's for your own good.' Own good, my butt.

I don't want the light. Or a normal life. I really don't.

But Angel will. He'll find someone---who isn't me---to take him into the light…

…so he can live a life all his own…

…discover pizza

…and have a house with a white picket fence, a wife, 2.3 kids, and a dog named Spike…

…All without me.

"Buffy?"

/What's happening?"/

/Shh. Don't worry about it. Close your eyes./

She froze. Same smooth voice---always Buffy---never Buff or Summers. Just Buffy. But he wasn't awake---not fully. Just drifting.

Her heart twisted at the finality of it all.

Guess the Buffy/Angel Saga of Pain ends here.

Of course it did. This was reality. Her soul cringed.

There would be no happily ever after. Only 'The End'. Because, in fairytales, the princess never fought the forces of darkness and Prince Charming was never a vampire with a soul that kept toddling away for the princess's own good.

In fairytales, the bad guys die. Here, they don't. They just pop back up like daisies.

"Sleep," she heard her voice say automatically. What would happen when he found himself holding her corpse…if he'd scream and cry…or would he cradle her body in his arms, clinging to the hope that she was just sleeping and would awaken when he pressed a kiss to her cold lips? Would the others find them before he woke? Or were they goners, just like she was?

"I'll wake you up. Everything'll be fine. Just rest."

A lie.

In fairytales, the princess never had to leave Prince Charming or lie to him so she could. She never left him to her two best friends and her sister.

Fate had definitely screwed her.

The second time she died was a complete blank---just endless dreaming and all of a sudden, she woke up in Sunnydale, huddled in an alley, rain beating down on her.

She had killed Angel. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Where the nightmare ended, her dream started.

She knew grief and with that came ignorance of time. She killed her lover. She hadn't been back since then. Well, she had, but just for the shortest moments. Some, she couldn't remember. Others were hidden in the deep recesses of her mind.

/You don't… want to be with me?/

/I'm trying to thing with my head instead of my heart…/

/It doesn't mean that I don't---/

/How am I supposed to stay away from you?/

/I'm leaving./

She hurt him. He hurt her back.

/You sleep with this guy?/

And now… Well, there was something between those two, but she never bothered to count it.

/ Let's just stick to the plan. Keep our distance until a lot of time has passed, and given enough time - we should be able to…/

/Forget./

/Yeah. - So - I'm gonna go - start forgetting./

Five minutes of gut-wrenching angst? So not her gig…

3 years, she'd been gone, conked out into oblivion. 3 years that felt like two seconds into the future. She hadn't aged and was pure primal energy---*the* Slayer. Wild. Cold. Uncaring. Until she remembered who she was. Then, she moved on and began to truly live.

Cordy, Dawn and Willow kept him alive.

They loved him for me while I was gone.

Dying inside had hurt more than dying physically ever had. But she never thought a third and final death would be in order.

Great, I'm dying in his arms. Real fairytale material, here.

She really would this time.

"Love you," he murmured drowsily. Another smile touched her lips. Not a painful one. A real, genuine smile---the very rare kind she hadn't done in a long, long time.

He doesn't even know he's breathing. Or has a pulse. Angel loves me---even at a distance. Even when he left me. Kinda late to figure that out. But it's not like I ever stopped. I just tucked it away for a while.

"Love you too, Angel," she replied.

Then, the moment flew away, as fast as Angel's reward would damn him. His world would shatter the next time his eyes opened.

Stolen kisses.

A night of reckless passion.

Long walks in cemeteries.

Smoochies between vamps

They were of the past. And now…Buffy had no idea where they stood.

Friends?

Buffy snorted. *That* hadn't worked out at all.

Lovers?

Couple?

None of the above, she decided. For now, they were a normal girl and her boyfriend. Just for now. Pain pooled in the center of her chest.

She'd miss him…

…And moonlit kisses…

His lopsided smile…

…Hiding between silk sheets…

Sparring…

…tickle torture…

Never again.

I'll miss everything. Even the tears and hurt because I'll never have them again. But I'll have the memories.

He would live, regardless of her death.

The Powers That Be wouldn't have changed him if they knew he'd kill himself.

/Before you can truly love someone, you have to love yourself./

Or was it a way to mask her death?

/Shanshu. Die to live./

Death was her gift to Angel.

He wasn't the type to return gifts. Besides, it was rude.

Angel was always a gentleman.

The sun had risen and light streamed in from a window, maybe. Or it could've been the huge hole they'd made when they blew one of those Hitler-type demons sky-high.

Sunshine shone on Angel's face and illuminated his features.

He looks good in the sunlight. Better than good, in fact.

Buffy reached a hand out to touch his cheek, smiling at the sudden warmth. His eyes flickered open and watched her intently.

She pursed her lips and covered his eyes with one hand.

So maybe the narrator was wrong about that 'one fleeting moment'.

"Geez, we saved the world and you're still not tired," she murmured. "Close your eyes for me." Buffy took her hand away. A pair of chocolate-brown orbs stared at her curiously and slowly shut.

Buffy kissed him deliberately slow, drowning in the emotions that washed over her and Angel's newfound warmth. His touch was gentle---as if she was made of fragile glass. She felt feverish and tingly all over. They both needed to breathe now…it elicited a little giggle from Buffy as pulled away and touched her forehead to his as the Angel-drug drained from her system, suddenly taking her back to reality.

Remember her. Who she was. Her favorite color. The way she liked to spend her weekends…what she did. How she cared.

"We're both pretty banged up," she said. "I say we deserve a little happiness. Never underestimate the joy of early morning nappage with the one you love most."

"I like waking up with you," Angel replied, hugging her closer. He nuzzled her cheek and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

And remember how she loved you.

Buffy rested her head on his chest and began to drift away as well. A corner of her mouth lifted as Angel began snoring softly.

Drip.

It sounds like water. But it really isn't. It's worse than water.

Drip.

This is death. Waiting.

Drip.

It can take you slowly, the way a lover does. Or it can take you in one big rush.

Drip.

Drips are slow deaths. Whooshes are swift, fast, easy deaths.

Drip.

Every drip represents the thing inside you that keeps you alive. It drains from you slowly…

Drip.

If you don't deal before the last drop…you can come back. But only if They want you to.

Drip.

And you have to face Death. Come face to face with him.

Death came to her twice.

Third time's the charm.

If she had been the little girl she had been long before she had sent Angel to hell, maybe she would have refused. But she knew her place.

I can't leave him…

Can't keep him forever…

The drips stopped.

I'm sorry.

And then, Buffy began to dream.

She dreamed of a younger Buffy---an angry one.

/And I don't need you skulking around, trying to protect me. Unless, of course, I'm in some gigantic fight to the death, which I was last night. That was you, helping me, wasn't it?/

She dreamed of the shock that hit her as she stood, looking over the beach, locked in a mind-blowing kiss with Angel in the daylight.

/I'm really sorry I kissed you like that./

/You are?/

/Well, not for the kiss itself…/

/Good. I mean, 'cause - as far as kisses go I thought it was well above average./

/It was incredible. I just - I-I think, maybe we'd be asking for trouble rushing back into things. Not that I don't want to - rush. Believe me, I do./

No. Not a dream.

A memory…something more colorful and more sensory than a dream.

/We stay in touch - just not…/

/Literally. - Funny. Okay, I'd better…/

/Right. Remove the temptation./

/So, we'll - talk soon./

She remembered the cold smoothness of the kitchen table. And each of Angel's warm, fleeting caresses, each one sending a tingle down her spine, leaving her breathless for more…

Crunchy peanut butter. Chocolate. Cookie-dough-fudge-mint-chip ice cream. So that was where they came from.

Angel loved food. Especially chocolate.

/ Mmm, this is a dream. You're human for like a minute and already there's Cookie-dough-fudge-mint-chip in the fridge./

/God, I love food./

/Food is good./

She remembered the way he smiled and how he laughed and the look on his face when she lapped up that spilled ice cream.

/That time you just spent in the kitchen? That was enough time apart./

/Too much./

/Okay, mortal coordination leaving something to be desired./

/Wrong. It's just right./

And how she wanted that day to happen over and over.

/No, I - want to stay awake - so this day can keep happening./

/Sleep. We'll make another one like it tomorrow./

/Angel? This is the first time I ever really felt this way./

/What way?/

/Just like I've always wanted to. Like a normal girl, falling asleep in the arms of her normal boyfriend. It's perfect./

...So many Novembers ago.

As she dreamed, she slipped away. No pain, just bliss and pleasant numbness and a tiny little ache in her heart.

What she had, she could never have again.

Never again.

And then the balance was even again.

Angel would wake up.

The world would keep turning.

Time would keep on ticking away.

Never again.

And that was her after-life. Happy memories of what had been---Angel…sunny days…escapades under silk sheets…and mouthfuls of ice cream---or what could've been. It lasted, kept happening. This was her gift. Whatever she had missed out in life, she had there in a dreamscape all her own. Her reward.

Maybe they would call her back.

But maybes could never wipe away tears.

Or grief.

Remember that she loves you---even in death.

Go to the sequel Ever More

Send feedback to Laka

Back to the Fanfiction Archive