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.

Part 5


Alana stretched the covers up to her chin, settling into her bed in the lonely darkness.

She couldn't get the way Angel had looked when he spoke of Buffy out of her mind. The longing that filled his eyes as he spoke of seeing her called. The pain that had settled in when the subject of her 17th birthday and the months that followed was brought up. The deep sadness as he spoke of leaving her, of walking away after her graduation.

Alana sighed, hating that he had loved so deeply in his lifetime.

Hated even more that it was Buffy that he had loved.

She and Buffy were in competition for everything, it seemed.

Who Angel loved more. Who had the blondest hair. Who was the strongest slayer.

It hurt, a lot, that Angel had never mentioned these people to her before. These supposedly great warriors who he had worked with.

Who had been his friends.

It hurt that he hadn't mentioned that he had been heavily involved with a Slayer, who was, apparently, the strongest in history.

She knew why he hadn't, of course. It was obviously painful for him to talk about. She knew, also that maybe he had been trying to protect her from it. From his painful past with a woman he loved.

She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come and drag her away from her unsettling thoughts. Thoughts of Angel in hell. Thoughts of Angel without a soul. Thoughts of Angel leaving her.

If she was truthful, she didn't know which was the worst.

Angel leaned against the doorway, cocking his head to the side as he watched Buffy sleep, her nose screwing up occasionally as if in concentration. The action was so simple, so sweet that it filled him with a deep desire that he had trouble pushing away.

Sighing, he turned and walked out of the room, knowing that if he spent one more moment watching her in her peaceful slumber, his resolve would break.

Spike's eyes followed him as he walked into the main room, cocking his head to the side.

Angel glanced at him. "What?" He asked testily.

"Angel and the Slayer, sitting in a tree. K*I*S*S*I*N*G" He drawled.

Angel sat down heavily. "Shut the hell up, Spike." He growled. "Buffy and I are over. Of the past. Finite."

"Oh, Please, Soul Boy." Spike rolled his eyes. "Alana's not around now. You don't have to pretend that the mere sight of her doesn't make your head all light and tingly, your body go all jelly like, your skin start feeling too-" He cut himself off abruptly when Angel raised his eyebrows and gave him a funny look.

"You know what I'm saying. You still love her, and always will." Spike said.

Angel sighed. "It's too hard Spike. No matter how much I love her...."

"No matter how much she loves you?" Spike inquired.

Angel's eyes fell to the floor. "It doesn't matter. Too many people will get hurt."

"Alana?" Spike asked, watching the man he had come to think of as a friend nod.

"It'll hurt more the longer you leave it." Spike said wisely.

Angel raised his head. "Since when do you care?" He asked.

Spike shrugged. "You're all my friends. 'Sides, I don't know how much longer I can watch you two and your googly eyes."

Angel stared at him. Was he right?

Angel shook his head, needing time to find his answers.




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