Title: Come To Play
Author: Starla
Email: starla@buffymail.com
Disclaimer: These Characters belong to Joss Whedon, except Gorlock, Alana, Adrian Townsend, and anyone else you don't recognize.
Distribution: Take it, but let me know. If you have any of my other fics, go ahead.
Author's Notes: It *will* be B/A I promise. I realise this part is a little depressing. Sorry. Season 4 did happen, Fish Boy did date Buffy, Angel went to LA, etc.
Spoilers: I dunno. Anything is possible, be warned.
Summary: 150 years after the Scooby Gang die, they return to Earth to help out the current Slayer and her Slayerettes.

AN: Okay, Tara is in this part. Some of you are gonna say, hey, you can't do that, she's a lesbian, but to me, she seems like the type of person who would love anyone, no matter their sex/age/race, y'know? They'd just have to be a good person, or whatever. Have a good soul. So no nitpicking, okay? She's one of the best characters, IMHO, and I wanted to have her in this, and it sorta just worked out this way...I'll stop now.


Part 25


Buffy clasped Angel's fingers as they walked, hand in hand, away from the beach. The dying sun burned amber at their backs, their hair dripping wet, smelling of salt and sand.

Buffy held Angel's hand tighter, stood closer to him, part of her still unable to believe that he was there with her, and had no intention of going anywhere anytime soon.

They turned onto the long drive of the mansion, an unspoken agrement passing between them that this would house them, for now at least.

Maybe soon, when Angel was more used to his new dimension, they could create their own, new place. A medley of everywhere they loved.

But for now, they were content to curl up together in what they'd recently come to think of as *their* bed, and fall asleep. For the first time in many centuries, both were content in the knowledge that their mate was safe.

Angel woke before Buffy, smiling even before he opened his eyes when he felt the weight of her small body draped across his chest. He gazed down at his love, the heavyness that had weighted down his heart for so long releasing itself all at once.

It had been a long, hard, bitter, century and a half after her death, not knowing where she was, what she was doing...He'd always hoped she'd reached paradise, and now that that suspicion had been confirmed, it gave him such unimaginable joy that he couldn't quite form the words to describe it.

It defied description.

Buffy shifted in her sleep, mumbling something incomprehensible into his chest, her palm rubbing across his stomach, in search of his hand. He clasped his fingers through hers, and she settled once more.

She was so cute when she slept.

Angelus roared with pain as yet another spear sliced through his abdomen, splitting the burnt skin around the wound. He didn't know how long he'd been there, htough the guard insisted that it was at least three hundred years. It didn't matter. Didn't make a difference.

He knew his way around the deepest caverns of hell, knew the weaks spots it the fabric of this reality. He would escape, eventually. Of that he was sure. He just had to hold on...hold on to his mind, not let it drift away like it had last time, only to be jarred back to consciousness when he smelt her perfume...it had taken the soul a few days to catch on...his human doubt believing that she was an illusion...a mirage that the cruel minions of hell had instigated to torture him further.

But Angelus had known immediately. He'd known that the object of his lust was real, because he had the confidence to believe it so.

The same way that he knew that he would escape from this pit.

Eventually.

Faith walked into her apartment slowly, for the first time noticing that the large room was a shambles; the fabric on her sofa was coated in so much dust that it looked more grey than black. The floor was covered in shattered glass, and the curtains were in tatters, hanging off their rod in filthy strips.

Her apartment looked like the rest of her life.

A big, stinking mess. And, like the rest of her life, it needed cleaning desperately.

She sighed, shivering slightly as she dropped to her knees, gathering articles of clothing from the stone floor, throwing them in a pile against her wall to await laundering. When that was done, she fetched a dusty old brushpan from beneath the sink, sweeping up all the glass, scratching herself several times in the process. She didn't stop.

There was so much pain. So much blood. She just had to get through it...she had to hold on to the pain until it dissapated. The pain would anchor her; Stop her from slipping away again.

It would remind her of her purpose.

She suddenly realised that she wasn't thinking about cleaning anymore....

She cleaned until dawn, when there wasn't a single speck of dirt, dust or grime to be seen.

Then she collapsed in a fit of sobs, curling against the wall, arms around her legs, her bone deep wails reverberating throughout the near empty apartment.

She cried herself into oblivion.

She cried until she was cleansed.

And then she cried some more.

Ross eased himself up into a sitting position, looking around himself. He was in a comfortable room, and through the window, he could see a mass of coloured cloud, the swirling mist parting occasionally to let him see the scenery that lay beyond. Thing was, every time he caught a glimpse, the landscape looked different. One moment, it was the beach, the next, the mountains. It changed from Yosemite park type forest to Native Australian rainforest, right before his eyes.

He raised his eyebrows. "Huh." He said simply,then moved to stand. He stretch, striding towards the door. He was intercepted by the appearance of two blonde women.

One was the typical American beauty, all wide eyes and curly, shiny hair. The other was beautiful, but in a softer, shyer way than her friend. Her hair was a less vibrant blonde, and her body was fuller, curvier. Her eyes were large and gentle, and her wide lips curved into a soft smile.

"Hello, Ross." She said.

Ross snapped out of his reverie, blushing, knowing that his staring had not gone unnoticed. She was just so beautiful...

"Uh...H-Hi. Hi. Hello. Hey." He said nervously. "Where am I?"

"You mean you haven't worked it out yet?" The other girl said, rolling her eyes. "Dense much? You're in heaven."

"That explains it." He muttered, his eyes once again transfixed on the beauty. She *had* to be an angel. As if she could read his thoughts, her lips twitched, and she seemed to preen a little.

"Are you angels?" He asked aloud.

She nodded. "We are. My name is Aquarius, and this is Ophelia. Well, here it is, anyway. In life, I was known as Tara. She was Harmony."

Tara. His lips formed the name, but he didn't speak it. Instead, he just listened as she spoke of his transition into heaven, and how he would find his friends. He couldn't help but watch her mouth move....

Tara grinned at the boy. Ross. He had such a sweet, innocent aura. He would be a dear friend to her, she knew, if not more...intimate.

"I know your friends." She told him quietly. "We both do. In life, I was close to Willow. Harmony was once friends with Cordelia, and her...alter ego...was Spike's lover. You are under our protection, and theirs. Travel the roads of heaven in safety, and I shall see you soon."

Ross' heart soared at her gentle words.

"Thankyou." He said, turning, and stepping through the door into the coloured fog.

Buffy smiled as she settled into Angel's lap, turning her face up to kiss him. He returned the kiss eagerly, his arms sliding around her waist and tightening, his thumb stroking her back lightly.

She broke away, a little out of breath, nuzzling her nose against his.

"Guys, can you give it a rest??" Cordelia asked. "I know you're happy about how this whole thing worked out, but we are *trying* to hold a conversation with you. It's hard enough with Angel as it is, Buffy. I don't need you blocking his verbal skills."

"Sorry." The lovers said in unison.

"He's just so cute and kissable." Buffy said. "I mean, look at what sunlight does for him. Did you know anyone could be so perfect???"

"Yes." Angel told her. "All I had to do was look at you." He said, his lips twitching into an even bigger smile.

"Awww....That is so sweet!" Buffy cried, her lips reaching his once more.

"She's right." Oz said casually. "That is pretty cute."

"He's a born romantic, my man is." Doyle said, leaning back against the couch cushions.

"How come you never say anything like that to me???" Anya asked Xander. "I want mushyness. Why don't you give me mushyness??"

"I-I-I" Xander stammered, glaring at Angel. "Deadboy, look what you did."

"Sorry." Angel said again, rather sheepishly. "I can't help it. It's in the blood."

"The need to stir up trouble??" Xander asked. "Is this a residual demon thing??"

Once, the words would have stung. But the tone Xander spoke in was good natured teasing, and Angel knew not to take it to heart.

"Nah. I'm living demon free nowadays. " Angel said firmly.

The group sat around Willow and Oz's charming abode, munching on a pizza that seemed to magically replenish itself everytime the box reached emptiness. They discussed their recent adventure, torn between joy to be home and sadness because they missed their new friends already. Ross was quiet, perhaps a little overwhelmed. It wasn't every day that you died and went to heaven.

Outside, the night grew darker, and stars danced across the sky, the moon a full, bright orb shining down on the water, making glittering sparkles upon it's rippling surface.

Inside, the group of friends reaffirmed their status as family, unspoken words mending bridges long burnt, and joyful laughter blazing a new trail towards bliss.

They were home.




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