~Part: 21~
The tears of a king aren't really more precious than the tears of anyone else. They are, however, more shocking, more painful to see. If your monarch is saddened enough to weep, then musn't the tragedy be something horrible beyond imagining?
The sight of Garwin lying with a dagger buried in his mangled stomach, Thayne's inert form looking small and crumpled beside him, and the thought of his sweet wife's life ebbing away while he could do nothing for any of them- it was too much for any man, let alone one who had only become king the day before. His carefully crafted armor was violently flung away, his broad shoulders slumped as he sat next to his brother's body. Dalenna was still sobbing, occasionally whispering 'wake up, please' in hushed tones.
Angel couldn't look at the knife whose hilt was still standing proudly, so he focused on Garwin's face. The face that looked so much like his own, the face that contained the green eyes so reminiscent of Marie's-
Angel shut his eyes tightly when he thought of her, the sweet woman who had been like a mother and best friend to all of them. Was this the best he could bring back to her? Was she to find her long lost son, only to lose him again, killed by the man who had nearly done the same to her spirit?
He stroked Garwin's cheek lightly, feeling the warmth that lingered there still. If he just looked at the quiet face, then he could almost believe that Garwin was sleeping.
Of course, with such a thought, his perverse eyes turned to look at the gruesome sight. The dark blood staining Garwin's slashed tunic, Garwin's right hand covered in blood, the guilty dagger laying beside his thigh.
Angel looked back at the handsome face, brushing Garwin's lips and why was the dagger on the ground?
Angel did a double take, and then looked at Dalenna, as if she would have been able to remove the weapon, but she was still huddled on Garwin's shoulder, begging him to wake up. His eyes became positively wild as he realized the reason his hand was so warm was because of the breath caressing the tips of his fingers.
"Garwin- can you hear me?" his voice was strained, hopeful and completely desparate.
Silence.
And then Garwin took a ragged breath, his chest shuddering with the effort, and Angel choked with relief. Dalenna shrieked and looked up at the king with a radiant smile. They each clutched one of Garwin's hands, and after an eternity and a half, his clear green eyes were looking up at both of them fondly.
"Did we win?" he asked in a rough voice.
"We did now," Angel answered.
**********
Nurses were brought with all possible haste, bringing bandages and healing herbs, and during all of their ministrations, Garwin managed to grit his teeth and keep on smiling.
"I just can't seem to stay out of bandages these days. Perhaps I can make them fashionable."
Angel laughed. "Well, a lot of the other soldiers are already wearing them, so I'd say you already did."
"Maybe it's my own fault- I enjoyed being an invalid so much, I decided to get injured and resume my life of pamperings and personal attendants. Oh, that reminds me- where's Thayne?"
Angel looked away.
Garwin shook his head firmly. "No. He isn't dead."
"Garwin, I'm sorry-" Angel began.
"No, you're not listening. He is not dead."
"I know how upset you must be-"
Garwin cut him off with an exasperated sound. "Angel, I'm not saying he didn't get hurt. Where is his body?"
Angel pointed, and Garwin sighed. "Okay- help me get over to him."
"Are you in jest?" Dalenna gasped. "You cannot be moved in this condition!"
"Unless you plan on leaving me in this field while you all head back home, you have to move me sooner or later. It might as well be sooner, and that way we can check on Thayne. Now Angel, help me up."
If the distance had been longer, he would have refused, but the determination in Garwin's oddly unworried eyes convinced Angel that it couldn't cause any excessive harm to comply. Together, they moved the few feet over to the young man's blood-covered body. Garwin placed his hand under Thayne's jaw, and smiled. Angel reached out to the same spot, and muttered an exclamation when he felt a weak pulse.
"How on earth? I saw Aylmar cut him down!"
Garwin held up a hand, then pulled up Thayne's tunic, revealing a vest of chain metal. "He may be 'just a foot soldier', but he's my personal guard, and I wanted him to have some insurance. This is where all the blood is coming from." He gestured at Thayne's left arm. Aylmar's sword had slashed him from shoulder down to his wrist, and although the damage was considerable, not to mention bloody, it wasn't fatal.
"I thought I had lost everyone." Angel's eyes were filled with relieved tears.
"Well, you'll have to put up with us a little while longer." Garwin squeezed Angel's shoulder. "You'll bring us both back to the princess, and we'll be playing games with her before you know it."
Angel's face closed down, and Garwin looked at him in dismay.
"What? What's wrong? Is she okay?"
************
She was sleeping.
Marie was combing out Willow's long, red hair as she slept silently. She had stopped thrashing, she had stopped crying out, and she had stopped waking up. Her skin was the color of white ash, her cheeks sunken, and her eyes had been closed since her last bloodletting. The blood on her bandages and the red of her hair were the only places of color on her thin frame.
Yet for all the fiery color her body had made, the tips of her still fingers were cold.
***********
The messenger ran through the palace halls, skidding as he turned corners too sharply. Maids got out of his way quickly, exchanging glances as they saw where he was headed.
Marie looked up at the quick knocking. She let go of Willow's waxy hand and walked over to the door, not looking very surprised when she saw the breathless young man on the other side. He bowed quickly.
"My lady, I have come with a message for you. King Alaric and his army return from the war victorious, and they shall most likely arrive back this evening. His Majesty sent me to tell you especially."
Marie nodded. "King Alaric."
She didn't really ask the obvious question, but he answered it with his solemn eyes. "He instructed me to tell you that King Aylmar is dead, and also that King Padraic's funeral will be in two days time."
The order of the information was purposeful, and the reason for it was not lost on Marie. She was about to dismiss the man, when he bowed once more.
"King Alaric expressed his wishes for you to tell the Queen that he will be home as quickly as he may." The messenger paused, and Marie could imagine how the king must have looked when he dictated this message. "He said that he wished for you to tell it to the Queen...even if she couldn't hear you."
*************
As much as Angel had wanted to ride Bishop at a hard gallop until he was back at the palace, he knew that a king could not arrive home without his army, and he rode in front of them, going insane with the waiting and wondering about how Willow was doing.
Garwin and Dalenna watched from the cart they were riding in together. Garwin had insisted he could ride, but Angel had rolled his eyes and ordered him into the cart upon pain of death. Dalenna fussed over him with a gentleness at odds with her often sarcastic words, and Garwin hardly even noticed the gaping wound in his stomach.
"May I ask you a question, milord?"
He looked up at her with a smile. "Stop calling me 'milord'. And ask away."
"What is the queen like?"
His eyes took on a faraway look. "She's like...life. Vibrant and funny and honest. Exquisitely lovely. I never had a sister before her, but I find I like the experience."
Dalenna looked forward to where Angel rode, his back tense. "You have been lucky to have a brother like the king."
Garwin nodded, his eyes fond. "He is so very much in love with her. He has known a lot of love lost in his life, but he never lets any of it reach her."
"She must love him."
"If you could see the look in her eyes..." he trailed off, and then he met her gaze, and he realized that he really didn't have to explain anything.
************
Marie heard the footsteps in the hall, and she knew who it was even before the door opened.
Angel ran in, nodding gratefully at Marie as he rushed to Willow's bedside. There was a canopy tumbling down around the bed, and he pulled it aside with a gentle hand.
He froze completely, impossibly still as he looked down at what was left of his wife. He had left her flushed with love and desire and a deceptive appearance of health. This creature lying before him, this shade of life, this was not his princess, his Queen, his Willow.
He saw the bangages wrapped around her forearms and elbows, and he turned to Marie in confusion. "What are these wounds?"
"Well, when her fever continued to climb, the healers had to bleed her, Your Majesty."
"They did _what_?" His voice was low and deadly, and Marie took a step back in surprise and some fear.
"They decided that bloodletting would be the best solution-"
Angel didn't hear the rest of her sentence. He had been born in a time that believed such barbaric methods worked, but the thought of anyone slashing at Willow's body, letting her lifeblood flow away...
He touched her hand softly, and hissed when he felt how cold it was. "She's freezing!"
"I can't seem to keep her warm."
He remembered the feeling- the clammy coldness that he had known for centuries. He had hated it.
"Thank you, Marie. If you want to see Garwin, I believe he was escorted to the infirmary when we arrived."
"Infirmary?" her voice was sharp, and Angel tore his eyes away from Willow's face.
"Aylmar." It was explanation enough, and her mouth became a line.
"The messenger told me he was dead-"
"I killed him. I fought him, and he lost, and he knew the feeling of cold steel slicing through him before his miserable life finally ended. I left my sword buried in his soiled flesh, and I forbade anyone from removing his corpse from the place where it fell. His lords swore fealty to me, and our countries are united as Padraic always wished them to be. Somewhere out in the dark, his body still lies on the battlefield, rotting, just as his soul did so many years ago."
Marie nodded. "Goodnight, Your Majesty."
She closed the door quietly, and Angel quickly stripped off his travel clothes. Wrapping himself in a dressing gown, he crawled into the bed beside his unconscious bride. He wrapped his arms around her, willing his body heat to thaw her, to bring her back from the edge-
But no, he wouldn't even think that thought. He would just hold her close, his warm breath on her cheek, and forget about war and crowns and blood. And he would hope that when he woke in the morning, she would open her eyes and welcome him home.
************
When Marie entered the palace infirmary, one of the nurses smiled and pointed out Garwin's bed. She paused as she saw the beautiful blonde girl kneeling next to him. Dalenna had fallen asleep, her head pillowed in the crook of her elbow, but Marie noticed that her left hand was still entwined with Garwin's.
He smiled happily when he saw his mother approaching, and she bent over to kiss his upturned cheek. She saw the many bandages wrapped around his midsection, but the look of peace on his face put her mind at rest.
"Who is your friend, dear?" she asked as she stroked his hair back from his forehead.
"Her name is Dalenna. She lived in Aylmar's country before the war."
"How did you meet her?"
"She was being accosted in a village I was exploring. I stopped the man and she returned with me."
Marie's eyes filled with tears, and she realized she had never loved anyone quite as strongly as the man who lay before her. "Well done."
He shook his head. "There was nothing else to be done."
"My darling, I am so glad you have come home." She kissed him again, and Dalenna stirred. She opened her eyes, and stood quickly when she saw Marie. She sank into a deep curtsy.
"My Lady," she greeted Marie.
"Dalenna, I am delighted to meet you. Pray, sit down, so that we may become acquainted."
Dalenna complied, smiling shyly at the older woman.
"One request," Marie added with a smile.
"Anything, milady."
"Please, do not bother to call me 'Lady'. We are too similar to bother with extraneous titles."
The three of them settled into comfortable conversation, and so did the evening pass.
***********
Angel was dreaming again. He was sitting in the royal throne, but instead of being located in the throneroom, the dais was in the main room of the Crawford Street mansion. As he fiddled with his scepter, the majordomo (who looked and sounded suspiciously like Wesley) announced that any citizens who wished to address the king should step forward.
Then someone did, and it was Padraic.
He smiled broadly, and Angel bowed his head in respect.
"It takes a long time to get there," Padraic remarked. "Just remember- they always lose your bags." Then he hailed Drusilla, who was dancing in the garden.
Angel watched the white haired king as he waltzed gracefully with the dark haired vampiress, not noticing as the next petitioner tried to get his attention.
"Angel..."
He shook his head, trying to understand.
"Angel-"
**************
He jumped as he awoke, the image of Padraic's smiling face being the only part of the dream he retained.
Except...
"Angel?"
Her face was white, her eyes were confused, but her skin was warm, and Angel kissed Willow's cheek as softly as he was able.
"You're awake," he whispered, as relief flooded through his veins.
~Part: 22~
"Marie, let me in!" Angel pleaded.
"Your Majesty, let the healers do their work-"
"I need to be with her!"
"You can't help her now. Just wait a little while longer-"
"Marie, please!"
The door opened, and Angel clutched Marie's hand tightly. His eyes were wide and anxious, and every muscle in his body was unnaturally strained.
The midwife smiled reassuringly. "Her Majesty the Queen is quite well-"
"May I come in?" he begged, looking very unlike the stoic monarch he had been for the past year. Gone was the poise borne of crown and throne. He looked like a terrified young man.
"Right this way, Your Majesty."
He followed her nervously, craning his neck to see his wife and his-
"The Prince is very healthy, Your Majesty." The midwife curtsied, then left him alone with his family.
Willow looked exhausted but happy as she held their newborn son. "Angel, come look at him," she invited him.
He knelt beside the bed, looking at the infant in bewildered awe. "What a miracle," he whispered softly. He stroked Willow's hair absentmindedly. "Do you know, the councillors are already holding meetings over what to name him?"
"Well, I had thought about that," Willow began.
"Tell me," he urged her.
"Back in Sunnydale, before Buffy ever came, Xander and I had a friend named Jesse. The master turned him into a vampire before the Harvest, and Xander staked him." Angel squeezed her shoulder, encouraging her to continue. "We promised each other that whoever had a son first-"
"Would name him Jesse?"
They shared a smile, and Angel nodded, looking back at their sleeping child. "Prince Jesse. I like it."
"The councillors can figure out his twenty-four other names," Willow dryly noted.
Angel laughed, then leaned forward to press a tender kiss to her lips.
*************
Tears coursed down the Queen's cheeks, and the King kept his arm around her waist, he himself under the sway of equally strong emotions.
"She looks so beautiful," Willow whispered in his ear.
Angel nodded, incapable of speaking as he watched Garwin slide the ring onto Dalenna's finger.
*************
Willow woke up to find her husband's side of the bed empty.
"Angel?" she called out.
Suddenly, a loud laugh came out from the king's dressing room, and he dashed out, leaping into the bed to land beside his wife.
"What's going on?" she asked bemusedly.
"Look," he said excitedly, pointing at his head.
"I don't really-"
"Gray hair, sweet wife of mine! I have gray hair!"
"And this excites you?"
"Willow, I lived for two and a half centuries without ever getting any older. Gray hair was a secret fantasy of mine for years."
She laughed as she understood. "So, how do you want to celebrate?"
He thought for a moment. "Oh, I know. Let's make a national holiday!"
*************
Prince Jesse bounced on his uncle's knee with glee.
"Uncle Garwin, higher!"
He complied with a laugh, and Dalenna dropped a kiss on her husband's head.
"Shouldn't your father be doing this?" The fond look on Garwin's face belied the exasperated tone of his voice. He was one of his nephew's favorite playmates, an honor he greatly appreciated.
"Can't," Jesse replied in the laconic manner once characteristic of his currently absent father. Garwin looked at his wife, and she shrugged.
"Why not, princeling?" Marie asked from her spot next to the fire. Jesse's face was wreathed in smiles as she said the familiar nickname.
"He's looking for his crown."
Garwin stopped bouncing his giggling nephew. "He lost his crown?"
"Well..."
"Jesse, do you know something?"
The boy's hazel eyes twinkled. "It's underneath my bed," he whispered.
Garwin laughed until his stomach hurt, and Jesse found himself being tickled mercilessly by his Aunt Dalenna. Marie remained in her chair with a smile on her face, knowing that she should go tell Willow, but putting it off for just a minute more as she watched...
*************
"Thayne, what's wrong?" Angel asked.
The ex-soldier looked startled. "Oh, oh, nothing, Your Majesty."
Angel rolled his eyes. "Thayne, you look like you're in mourning, your face is so gloomy. Also, you only call me Your Majesty when you're distracted. Has someone you care for died?"
"No."
"So you're in love, then."
Thayne looked shocked. "How did you-"
"You're not as subtle as you think. Besides, you've been brooding as much as I used to, and I recognize the symptom. Who is she?"
Thayne sighed. "Merchant Goodman's daughter."
"I know the one. She makes, as an old friend of mine once said, googly eyes at you every time you enter a room. So what's the problem?"
Thayne shook his head. "I am in no way assured of her regard. Besides, her father would never allow her to even look in my direction."
Angel shrugged. "Okay. I'll make you a Duke. Anything else?"
His fair companion blinked in shock. "You- you would do that? You could do that?"
"Of course."
"I don't know. Can I ask her to marry a man such as myself, flawed and scarred?" He looked at his left arm, his arm that had never really healed properly after its encounter with Aylmar's sword. His right arm was as dextrous as ever, but his left hung uselessly by his side.
"Thayne, that arm is evidence of your remarkable valor and loyalty.=20 She'll be honored to marry you." Angel paused, then smiled slyly. "Your Grace."
***********
Jesse paced like a caged animal. "What's taking so long?"
His father tried to soothe him. "It will be alright. Just sit down."
"I want to go in!"
The queen pulled him into a chair. "Jesse, darling, everything is going to be fine. She is going to be fine." Willow looked up and exchanged a fond look with her husband.
"Mother, couldn't you go in? They would let you go in and see her, wouldn't they?"
She smoothed down his frazzled hair. "The midwife is taking good care of your wife, sweetheart. It won't be much longer."
Angel watched his wife, so graceful, so lovely, and his son, so inherently elegant and handsome. He remembered how frantic he had been on the day of Jesse's birth. Actually, he had behaved in a very similar manner for the births of all of Jesse's royal siblings...
A baby's cry was heard through the ornately carved door, and Jesse's face broke into a broad smile.
************
Angel was old.
He wasn't just old in years, anymore; he was old in body. At last.
His reign over the kingdom had already spanned decades. His first gray hair had been followed by the rest, his handsome face had become mapped with wrinkles, and it had been a long time since he had really been able to remember the taste of blood.
Willow was no longer the adventursome teenager she had been upon arriving in their royal world. She was utterly a queen. Age could not diminish her fair beauty, though her fiery hair had become considerably more washed with white.
But the really amazing thing, the omnipresent condition, was that they were in love. For forty years they had loved each other without reserve. They knew each other completely, and their souls seemed to work in harmony.
Their children had grown into adults in the presence of their love, their friends admired and imitated it, and even the laws enacted during their reign were affected by it. They shared good and bad memories from two worlds, they suffered and rejoiced together, and their love continued to grow.
One fine summer morning, they strolled though the palace gardens arm in arm. Various members of the royal family were scattered through the manicured lawns and the carefully tended paths, and the King and Queen walked together in love.
They paused next to a fountain, and Angel bent down to place a gentle kiss on Willow's smiling lips.
"Grandma! Grandpa!" a voice interrupted.
They looked down to see one of their youngest grandchildren beaming up at them.
Angel stooped to ruffle his hair, as grandfathers often do.
"I saw something in the woods," the boy said with wide eyes. "It was pretty."
Willow smiled. "Why don't you go back to your mother, and we'll see what it is."
The boy impulsively hugged her knees, then ran off down the path. His grandparents both laughed, then headed towards the spot the boy had pointed out.
Angel walked ahead into the small grove of trees, Willow following close behind with her hand clasped in his. The trees had unusually thick foliage, and very little light filtered down between their branches.=20 There was an almost solemn hush, and Willow was surprised that she couldn't even hear any birds singing.
"What do you think it was?" Angel asked her.
"Perhaps a deer? I don't think he's ever seen one before. He would probably think a deer was pretty." A gentle breeze ruffled her skirts.
She froze.
"Let's go back." Her voice sounded odd, choked, and... frightened. She pulled on Angel's hand, and he looked at her in surprise.
"Why? What's wron-"
But it was too late.
They saw it at once, that slash of emptiness, that swirling opening into time.
"No," she whispered.
He gathered her into his arms, pressing kisses into her fragrant hair, whispering frantic words of love. They tried to back away, but they knew it was futile, and the breeze became a howling wind, and then everything was black.
~Part: 23~
Willow was certain it had all been a dream.
As she slowly drifted back to consciousness, she reassured herself that she would be awakening in the silken sheets of the royal bed, her crown sitting on its cushion on her dresser. She would wake up and tell her husband about her dream, and he would comfort her, and they would break their fast together. She remembered that it was Thayne's birthday, and a great celebration was planned. All of their families would be there, and she was certain Thayne would be ecstatic once he saw his present...
But the surface she was lying on was hard, and her husband's arms felt cold.
Then she opened her eyes, and a raw sob was ripped from her throat.
He was so, so beautiful. It had been two score years since she had seen him like this- young and flawless. But he was so, so pale, and his hair was dark once again. So she clung to his grey sweater as they lay together on the floor of his office, and she cried.
*************
As Angel woke up, he never had the chance to notice his surroundings. All he could notice was the demon.
He had lived without it for so long, that his mind was thrown into confusion. His soul was by no means weak, but it had forgotten how to constantly subdue a demon long ago, and he struggled violently for control. The stab of despair that told him what had happened couldn't really be properly noted, because all his attention was absorbed with the war within him.
He had to win.
He had to fight.
He had to subdue.
His soul took up its old, long forgotten burdens. He wearily accepted the guilt and the silent roars of an enraged minion of hell, and only then did he open his eyes to look at the sobbing woman in his arms. No, girl, for she was the soft little thing she had been at eighteen, and she was no longer his Queen. He recognized his office furniture, and he pulled her closer, each one of her sobs slamming into him with unbearable torment. Every man hates to hear his wife cry-
But he stopped himself. He was not a man anymore, and she was not his wife, and his ring finger felt naked without his golden wedding band. He was a corpse with a demon shredding at his recently joyful self, and he was not the husband he had loved being.
Her sobs started to die down, and he opened his eyes to look into her own, and she was not ready to accept what had happened.
He pulled her upright, and they stood together.
"Willow, I-" he broke off as the demon slammed against him once more.
She couldn't seem to see anything but his shirt. No longer a doublet, no velvet and no ermine- gone were the rich garments of the past forty years of splendor. Gone too were the colors of royalty- deep purple and crimson, gold, and all manner of lush fabrics the color of wine- just gone. His clothes had been reduced, their colors washed away, and it had all faded into grey, grey the color of her despair.
How she wished to be awakened by the sound of a servant building up their morning fire. To remain a queen until she died, not because she cared about royalty, but because she cared about him...
Angel opened his eyes with a small gasp as he shackled the demon down into the depths of himself. His gaze locked with hers, and she could read his unshielded eyes. Torment and bewildered sorrow swam in them, and he looked so lost that she shuddered. She was losing it. She was about to collapse into his-
"Hey guys, there you are!"
Their heads snapped up at once, and they looked over to the doorway where Cordelia stood smiling.
No, no, no, Willow's mind cried, not this, not now-
"How did it go last night?" she asked.
She could have been speaking a foreign language, for all the confusion her question inspired.
"Last night?" Willow asked, her expression incomprehensible.
"Um, yeah. Insane portal guy? Thomas, or whatever?"
Willow shook her head, trying to clear it, dislodge some sort of answer.
Cordelia looked at them more closely. "Man, you guys look terrible. Did that guy do something to you?"
There was a sort of horrible humor to her question, but Willow felt as though she had forgotten how to laugh. Queen Aurelia had loved to laugh, but Willow remained mute.
"Well, I guess you can tell me about it later. Anyway, Willow, I came in to tell you that Xander is here to drive you back to Sunnydale."
She screamed.
Well, she meant to, and her soul did, but all that came out was a whimper.
Cordy laughed. "Yeah, I've seen him drive. And people call me a scary driver..."
No.
Angel said nothing, but his fingers were digging into her arms, and she would have felt the pain if she could have felt anything.
He was so close to ignoring the world and its obligations and rules, and just pulling her against him. He would drag her down to his apartment, and he would remind her that he had loved her as well as he could. He would reclaim her in this world, and if they had to start again, then so be it. They had built their lives together before, and they could do it again. He would not let his princess just walk away.
His feet had actually begun to step towards the elevator. His decision was made. He would regard this newfound youth as a blessing, and not a...
Curse.
And so he couldn't. He couldn't take what he wanted. He couldn't translate her into this world. He couldn't keep her as his joy, because he could have no joy.
Princes were allowed happiness, and likewise kings.
But not angels.
He had been forbidden to one woman, and now he was the same to another. He had promised to protect her and keep her from harm, but from the anguish emanating from her body, he knew that he had failed. Her eyes were begging for something, some succor, but it was not something he could give.
"Hey, Angel?" Cordelia's voice sounded amused, but slightly perplexed.
He turned his dark eyes to his secretary. She smiled hesitantly.
"You're going to have to let her go."
And the truth was there, and so he did.
They had sworn forever, death do them part, but his cold skin and unbeating heart attested to the fulfillment of that promise, and his hands which had been hers- his hands unclenched, and he released her arms. She almost fell over from the lack of support as he stepped away.
"Well, Angel, since I'm assuming that you probably don't want to see Xander or burst into flames, I'll take Willow out."
He closed his eyes tightly, trying to block out the sight of his no-longer-wife leaving. He didn't see the last despairing look she directed at him. He simply heard retreating footsteps, and then the office door slamming.
He was engaged in another battle, but it was no longer with his demon. He had to fight to remain still, to prevent himself from running out and begging her to stay.
After living a few more eternities, he heard the door open again, and he looked up to find Cordelia looking rather irritated.
"Could you be ruder? You didn't even say thank you! She came all the way out here to help you, which I assume she did- and you just stand there, completely mute! She seemed a little upset by it, to tell you the truth."
A little upset.
"I'm sorry," he said finally, the words coming slowly and with great difficulty.
"Don't you have any recollections of what it's like to be human?"
He turned around and walked into the elevator, closing the gate softly. The elevator sank down into his apartment, but by the time it reached its destination he was huddled in the corner, his grief robbing him of the strength to even leave the cage.
***********
Willow stared out the window, befuddled by the sights of the modern world surrounding her once more.
She jumped when Xander put his hand on her arm.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asked.
She stared at him blankly.
"Your mind seems to be elsewhere," he commented.
She turned away, and allowed the sounds of morning traffic to permeate her shattered heart.
The End
read the sequal 'The Retrieval'