Title: Sweet Hereafter
Author: Eve
Email: alfa_fighter_3@hotmail.com
Pairing: W/A/S
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own all characters from BtVS and A:tS, the rest are mine.
Author's Notes: In my world, there was no Tara, no Glory, and Angel has been in love with Willow since she brought him back from Hell
Feedback: Writers need feedback like mere mortals need air. :-P
Summary: Fifteen years after the opening of the Hellmouth, Willow, Spike, and Angel meet again

Chapter 4


Angel paced back and forth in his hotel room, making a futile attempt to urge the sun to set faster. There were still plans to be made, preparations for the office. He still had to warn the others about Spike. Spike wouldn't appreciate them butting in on his turf, and he might cause some trouble in the form of that antagonizing personality he had developed so scathingly over the years. Willow hadn't put a damper on that.

Willow.

He closed his eyes and took a shaky, unneeded breath. He had heard stories of how Spike had turned her while they were in Europe. In the second he laid his eyes on her he knew it wasn't true. Her blood rushed, barely concealed beneath the milky covering of her skin, her chest rose and fell with each intake of breath. And that human heart had skipped a beat and sped up when her eyes met his. Everything in the periphery blurred, disappeared--all he saw was Willow. She was wearing a black velvet slip dress that molded to her supple curves, accentuating her high breasts and the flare of her hips-- something that Willow never would have worn before. Her hair looked wild, windblown, and dark eyeliner made her eyes appear cat-like. She looked so much different, yet exactly the same. She hadn't aged. And that's when it hit him. She was immortal, but without the vampire side effects. She was bonded to his Childe, alive so long as he was. She belonged to Spike.

Still, that didn't stop him from reaching for her, from pressing her tightly against his body to let her know exactly what he was feeling. Her arousal sang to him, his demon railed against its cage in frustration. He had to have her now. The way she fit in his arms felt right, like he always dreamed about. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, was about to nip playfully at her neck, when awareness of his Childe washed over him. Suddenly Spike was right there, in all his glory. The attitude was back, the cockiness that had attracted Angel to him in the first place on full display.

Two of the most beautiful creatures he had ever known and loved were with him, Spike was eyeing him speculatively, and Willow had yet to move out of his embrace. The heady scent of her desire was clouding his brain, and so he could only attribute his next actions to the influence of Angelus. His fingers moved down to cup Willow's ass.

"Would you prefer we share?"

One last teasing kiss to Willow's fingers and he left before he completely lost control. But the look on Spike's face had been well worth it. For the first time in a hundred years Angel had the last word with his impudent Childe.

Angel glanced at his watch impatiently. There was still five minutes. He sat down on the corner of the king sized bed with a sigh. Seeing Willow and Spike had brought back memories of Sunnydale that he'd rather leave buried. After all these years he still felt as if he had failed somehow, that if he'd done something different they would still be alive. Giles, Xander, Anya, Joyce, Dawn. Buffy.

If he was going to be immersed in the past he might as well think of the one bittersweet memory he had of that time--the night before the Hellmouth opened.


(Fifteen years ago)


They were gathered in the Magic Shop, looking tired, angry, and afraid. But for all their fear they were determined. Somebody had to save the world, they'd faced a Hellmouth-opening before and won. Wincing, Angel fingered the spot where Buffy's sword had pierced his gut. He stayed mostly in the shadows, feeling out of place. These people shared a bond that he was no longer a part of.

"So I guess that's it. We're ready," Xander said, the doubtful tone in his voice belying his words.

Giles began cleaning his glasses in a well worn gesture. "I suggest you all go home and get some rest, and we'll meet back here at sunset tomorrow to go over the final preparations." No one spoke, no one made any move to leave. Finally Anya spoke up.

"If anyone would like, you could all come over to our apartment. We have cable and cupboards of food. And alcohol, too. We could all get very drunk to celebrate the end of the world."

"Anya," Xander scolded, more out of habit that with any real ire.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I don't know why I said that. I'm just very scared and confused and tend to speak before I think. I'm sorry."

Willow laid her hand on the ex-demoness' arm. "It's okay, Anya. We're all scared."

"Yes, and your bluntness can be refreshing. At times." Giles put his glasses back on.

Anya gave them all a tiny smile. "Really? I always thought everyone got so annoyed with me."

"We do--did," Buffy said. "But in an endearing-annoyed sort of way. It grows on you."

Xander put his arm around his girlfriend and pulled her close. "In that case," she said to Buffy, "I always liked the bitchy way you ordered everyone around. It was very admirable."

"Thanks. I think."

"And Willow, your botching of spells, though tending to cause trouble, always provided sources of amusement."

Xander put his hand up to stop Willow's protest. "I think she's trying to give thanks, in her own convoluted way."

After a pause Anya turned to him, taking his hand in hers. "Thank you for loving me, even though I was a demon who tortured men, and never expected to make it as a human. And thank you for letting me love you in return."

Xander hugged her, burying his face in her hair to hide the way his eyes had suddenly watered up. Angel could smell his tears. There were a few more sniffles around the table.

Willow began to speak, in that steamroller way she had. Hesitant to start, and on to full-out babble. "All my life I've felt out of place. I mean, I was the only girl I knew who could hack into the FBI databases before I could drive a car, or who had read Faust in the original German, or who could take care of herself when she was seven because her parents were always gone." Angel was sure she was the only girl he knew who had hacked into the FBI or read Faust, period. "Then I met you guys, and it didn't matter anymore that I was different, because I finally found a place where I belonged. You're all my family, even Oz, and Cordelia, and Mrs. Calendar, and . . .everyone else. Even Spike, where ever he is. My big, part-human, non-Jewish family." The somber mood was lightened by her timid, but brilliant smile. "I just thought you should all know."

Buffy cleared her throat. "Well, I guess I should let you know that I owe my life to you guys." They began to protest, but she continued. "We all know Slayers don't last too long. If it wasn't for your support, and everything else you've done to help me, I really don't think I'd be here. So I thank you for being my friends even though just knowing me puts your life in danger every day. You don't know how much it means to me." She looked at her lap and began playing with her fingers, unused to such heartfelt sentiment.

"For letting me be part of the team," Xander said. 'That's what I'd thank you for. I don't have any special powers, physical, magical, or otherwise, I don't have any special knowledge, but hey, I wield a mean two by four." Angel even found himself smiling with the rest of them.

Giles cleared his throat. "Ah, like Willow, I consider all of you my family. And as a Watcher a family is a rare occurrence. Even more rare is a group of individuals who come together as a team to fight the forces of evil with talent, and courage, and determination. You are all Slayers, and heroes in your own way. I have never been more proud as I am right now."

As Angel watched and listened, he couldn't help but feel that they were confessing, saying all those things that should be said to the people you love. In case they didn't get another chance. In case they didn't make it through this. A single tear rolled down his cheek. There were so many things he could tell these people, about how strong they were, how loyal, how much they radiated life despite all the death they'd seen. He had never thanked Buffy for caring for him, even though it was her duty to kill him. He had never thanked Giles for trusting him, never thanked Willow for giving him back his soul, for bringing him out of hell, for always being kind.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't realize they were leaving, going to meet up at Xander and Anya's apartment to spend one last night together as the Scooby Gang. Willow was peering up at him with her luminous green eyes.

"Angel? Are you okay?" On the eve of destruction, she was still more concerned about others than about herself. Willow was so selfless, she would never know how much she meant unless someone told her. He took her hand, and led her to the training room, prompting her to sit down.

"Willow, you've done more for me in these few years than anyone has done in my lifetime." He watched her eyes grow rounder, searching for the right words. He was as bad at this as Buffy was. "You-you gave me back my soul. You rescued me from the depths of hell. I don't know how to thank you for that. I don't know if there is a way to thank you. What you've done, who you are . . ."

"Angel, I understand--"

"No, let me finish. When my soul was gone, and Angelus was free, he was obsessed with you. Drawn to your innocence, your purity. He wanted to turn you, so he harassed you, tormented you, waiting for you to give in. But you never did. When he realized how strong you were, something changed. He respected you, Willow. He even loved you in his own demon way."

She stared at him in wonder as he knelt before her, taking her hand to emphasize his next point. "You are the only thing that me and him agree upon."

It took her nearly a full minute to absorb the meaning behind his words. "But Buffy," she gasped.

"Was never meant to be," he insisted. "A Slayer and a vampire goes against the laws of nature. I do love Buffy, and I always will. But my demon hates her. I can only love her with half of myself. I can be whole with you."

The emotions flickering across her face were almost too fast for him to catch. Disbelief, wonder, fear, more disbelief. He let his head fall to her knee.

"What can I do to thank you, Willow?" he whispered against her denim-encased thigh. He almost died again at the shock of her slim fingers running through his hair. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"You could have told me before the end of the world," she smiled ruefully, sniffling. Then his shock turned to astonishment as she threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, Angel. You don't owe me any thanks. Friends just do things for other friends."

"But what you did for me-"

"Wasn't in exchange for anything. I did it to save the world from Angelus, to help Buffy, to end your suffering. Having you back is thanks enough."

She really had no idea how precious she was. Slowly, so as not to startle her, Angel turned his head and pressed a chaste kiss against her lips. When he pulled back the tension between them was so great he could have plucked at it with his fingers. She was flushed, both with passion and embarrassment. And she had never looked so beautiful.

"When I came back from hell I had your face in my mind, the face of my savior. I was looking for you. Sometimes I wonder if Buffy hadn't found me first . . ."

She pressed her fingers to his lips, and he felt the fine tremor running through her. "Ssh. You're going to strain your vocal cords. I've never heard you talk so much." Then she laughed at him, breaking the tension. "So, um, did you want to come with us?"

He shook his head. He had to run back to LA and make his own last minute preparations.

"Nobody should be alone on a night like this," she whispered.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Be with your friends now. And Willow?" She looked into his eyes, getting flustered all over again when he placed his forehead against hers. "We'll make it through this."




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