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Buffy
I refuse to close my eyes. That would signal defeat, acknowledge that this nightmare is real.
Acknowledge that he isn’t coming.
I told Willow to send the e-mail. She doesn’t even know who it was to. But I know. I know, and I know he will come. He has to. I have to tell him . . . But there is no time and he is not here.
“It’s all right, Buff. You can sleep,” Willow says softly. I look at her, shake my head as much as I can—not much, I’m afraid.
“Angie?” I whisper, seeing in my mind the bright eyes and blond curls of my little girl, the dearest thing to me in all the world.
“She’s sleeping,” Willow tells me. “Nick’s on his way.” I nod slightly, a part of me glad my ex-husband won’t be here in time. He’s coming for Angele, not for me. That’s the way it should be too. I loved him once, but that’s over and done with. Nick’s not who I’m waiting for.
He has to come.
“Tell her I love her. And tell Nick he’ll die if anything ever happens to her. Tristan?” I manage.
“She’s fine,” Willow said. “Xander’s with her, but she’s doing great. You taught her well.” I try and smile, to reassure her but it’s beyond me. She’s on the verge of tears, though she hides it well.
“You taught her,” I whisper. Willow shakes her head, sniffs loudly, then manages a smile.
“It doesn’t matter. We taught her.”
“There’ll be another one. Teach her well,” I whisper, wondering what she will be like, this replacement of mine. Willow shakes her head, blinking back tears, but we both knew it is true.
“Don’t say things like that. You’ll get better,” she whispers. I move my head in a negative gesture.
“Giles?” I ask. If the one person I really need can not be here, I will at least have the others that I love.
“He was sleeping, but he’ll be in in a minute,” she assures me. I almost close my eyes and then remember I can’t. I have to wait for him. Ten years, and now I only have a few more minutes. I must wait for him.
“Tell Xander, I . . .” I stop, not sure what I want to say and unable to say it anyway. I am so weak now. It is strange, being weak after being strong for so long.
“Shh. He’s coming soon. It’s almost dawn and he and Tristan will be here when it is.” I stiffen a the words. Almost dawn. After dawn he cannot come, though, and I know I will not survive another day. He must come. It cannot be almost dawn already.
“Buffy!” a voice says from the doorway, I try and turn, but it is not him anyway. My mom. She came.
“Hi,” I whisper. Willow gets and moves away so Mom can sit down. She’s crying.
“Buffy, I love you,” she says.
“I know. Love you too,” I manage, and I am glad she’s here, even if she’s not him. He must come.
“Why? Why did it have to be you?” she sobs. I almost smile.
“I was Chosen. That’s just how it is,” I whisper. She nods, the tears still running down her cheeks. I want to tell her not to cry, but I don’t have the strength. I hate it when she cries. It makes me feel so helpless.
“Willow,” Xander’s voice says and he steps into the room with a tall, red-haired young woman right behind him. Willow turns to greet her husband and he puts his arms around her. It was hard for them. I listened to many hours of crying before they were finally happy together. And it wasn’t all Willow’s either.
“Hey Buffy,” Tristan says, coming around to the other side of my bed. I’m at home. I insisted. They couldn’t do anything, and I don’t want to die in a hospital bed. But Xander and Tristan there means that . . .
“Dawn,” I demand feebly.
“Not yet. We took the rest of the night off,” Xander says. He disengages from Willow and walks toward the bed. “We wanted to see you.” Giles enters the room unobtrusively but I see him.
“Giles,” I whisper. He comes over quickly. “Thank you.” He is shaking his head, but I nod. He helped me so much. Without Giles . . . “Tell him I—”
“Tell who?” Giles asks.
“When he gets here. Tell him I tried to wait. Tell him I love him,” I say, needing to get the words out before my eyes close.
“Who?” Willow asks. “Who should we tell?”
“Me,” a voice came, and he is here and my heart begins to sing and suddenly I realize I have a few more minutes after all. He has come.
Angel
They all stare at me in shock. Why wouldn’t they? Except for Buffy they have all thought me dead these last ten years.
“Angel,” Willow breathes. Xander goes stiff and glares at me with shock and anger in his eyes. Giles merely looks stunned, Joyce confused. The red-hared girl—a new Slayer, I suppose—suprised and confused. My eyes go to Buffy. She looks happy and that is all that matters to me.
I got the message. It didn’t say much, just that I should come, and I knew I must. I almost did not make it. It was so close, but I knew I had to get there. I could never live with myself if I did not reach her in time.
I go to her, to the bed, kneel there and stroke her hair, ignoring the so obvious wounds. They don’t matter. Only she matters.
“You came,” she whispers.
“Of course. I had to. You asked me to,” I say. She moves her hand towards my face, but does not have the strength. I take it and kiss it and bring it to my cheek.
“I’m dying,” she says. I shake my head in denial. “I will heal you. I love you and I will heal you,” I say, repeating her words from so long ago.
“No,” she whispers. “Not this time Angel. Even love will not heal this wound. I called you so I could tell you . . . the truth, finally.”
“You have always told me the truth,” I say softly. She shakes her head.
“No. Not always. I love you Angel. I always have and I always will,” she whispers.
“I know,” I say, to comfort her. I would say more, or she would, but we are interupted by a small voice, from a small person.
“Mommy?” the little girl in the doorway says. I turn and look at her and know in that moment, who she is. She is so beautiful, and she looks just like her mother must have as a child. The same perfect skin, the same blond hair, though the girl’s curled in natural ringlets about her face . . . the same green eyes, only more innocent, more trusting, without the pain that resides in the older ones.
“You should be asleep,” Willow says, finding her voice. The little girl casts a glance at the young Watcher.
“I couldn’t sleep. Where’s Mommy?” she demands.
“I’m right here Angele,” Buffy says from the bed. I start at the name. She named her daughter after me.
“Mommy!” the little girl cries joyfully and runs towards the bed. She’s wearing a large white nightgown and is carrying a tattered stuffed pig which I recognize from better times. “Gamma!” Angele cries, seeing Joyce. The older woman smiles sadly and leans down to kiss her granddaughter.
“I’m here sweetie,” she says. I watch as Angele turns to Buffy and regards her solemnly.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” Buffy asks, in a different voice than I’ve ever heard from her.
“I’m not tired. ‘Sides, you’re awake and Uncle Xander and Aunt Willow are awake, and Gamma Joyce, and Grandpa Giles and Cousin Tristan. And whoever he is,” she says, looking at me.
“That’s an old friend, love. His name is Angel too, just like yours,” Buffy tells her daughter. She casts a strange glance at me, then smiles.
“Hello Mr. Angel,” she says. I manage to smile back.
“Hello Angele,” I say, wishing suddenly in that moment that she were mine. My daughter to love and hold and reprimand. My daughter to spoil and protect as I never could Buffy. She turns back to her mother.
“As for the other, I’m going to sleep very soon,” Buffy says. There is something in her voice that makes the little girl’s brow furrow in dismay. “If you go back to bed your daddy will be here when you wake up.”
“Daddy’s coming?” the little girl cries joyfully. I close my eyes for a second. Daddy. The man that had made Buffy happy when I couldn’t. When she sent me away.
“He’s coming,” Buffy confirms, “and he’s going to take you home with him.”
“What about you?” Angele asks.
“I’m going away for a long time,” Buffy says quietly. Angele’s brow furrows again.
“I don’t want you to go away,” she says.
“I know. But you’ll still have Daddy, and Aunt Willow and Uncle Xander, and Cousin Tristan and Gamma Joyce and Gampa Hank and Grandpa Giles. I’ll just be where you can’t see me for a while.”
“Like Aunt Faith?” Angele asks. She’s a quick one.
“Like Aunt Faith,” Buffy agreees. “But I’ll still be able to see you. And I’ll still watch over you and make sure you’re safe, and I’ll still know if you do anything bad.”
“I’ll be good, I promise!” Angele exclaims. Buffy smiles softly.
“I know you will. I want you to promise me something, okay?” The little girl nods. “I want you to promise me that you’ll always be good and kind like all your relatives, and that you’ll try and be smart and read a lot like Aunt Willow and Grandpa Giles.”
“I promise,” Angele said solemnly.
“And I want you to promise me that you’ll always be strong and never let anyone hurt you, or tell you that you’re not as wonderful as you are.”
“Strong like Aunt Faith and Cousin Tristan?”
“Strong like Aunt Faith and Cousin Tristan. But you don’t have to be quite so . . . outgoing as Aunt Faith,” Buffy says, with a slight smile. I never knew Faith, the Slayer that replaced Kendra, but I’ve heard of her, and she was formiddable by all accounts.
“And you? Can I be strong and beautiful like you?” Angele asks. I can see the tears spring to Buffy’s eyes.
“You can be whatever you want to be, love. My little Angele,” Buffy says, her voice breaking slightly. She takes a deep breath and leans down to kiss her daughter. One last time. “Time to go back to bed again.” Angele nods and suddenly throws her arms around Buffy.
“I love you Mommy!” she exlaims,
“I love you Angele. Always. I love you,” Buffy whispers, and then Willow comes and takes the little girl by the hand and leads her away. I watch them go, and then turn back to Buffy.
“She’s beautiful,” I say with my heart in my voice.
“I know. Thank you. Promise me you’ll watch over her Angel. Her father’s a good man, but he doesn’t know the dangers. Promise you’ll take care of her.”
“I promise,” I say, knowing that I couldn’t do anything else. There’s a moment of silence and then she speaks again.
“I loved him. I thought I did. No, I know I did. Some loves aren’t the forever kind though. Ours wasn’t, his and mine. It was nice while it lasted. I was happy, and he gave me Angele—him and Faith, if not for her I couldn’t have everhad children, but she did all the Slaying for a while. I was sorry for Angele when we ended it, but we needed to. He never accepted what and who I am—he pretended it was a game, or some sort of fantasy I made up. It was better for everyone when he left. He doesn’t know how to protect her. I’m fraid she’ll need protecting,” she tells me.
“I promise,” I repeat. She looks at me—not at the shadow of her daughter that is already gone, or the husband she lost long ago. Me. Angel.
“I missed you. All the time, I missed you. For ten years.” I close my eyes for a second and open them again. She missed me. She can never even imagine how I missed her every second.
“I missed you too,” I say, “always.”
“I know. Don’t leave me again Angel, not ever. Not even if I tell you to,” she says, almost fiercely. In the corner of my eye I see Willow come back in.
“I won’t leave. I promise. I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her. She nods, satisfied, then gasps a little.
“It hurts,” she whimpers, like a little child.
“It’s all right. It’ll go away,” Willow says. Buffy shakes her head.
“No. It won’t. Thank you for saying so though. It doesn’t go away. It’s me that has to go. It’s time,” she says. I shake my head, trying to deny that which I cannot accept, which I cannot believe. Buffy has always been more alive than anyone, and she cannot die.
“Don’t say that,” I insist. She gives me a sad little smile, then looks around the room, meeting the eyes of all the people that love her.
“I love you all. Tristan—be a good Slayer, I know you will. Kick some vampire ass. Mom—I love you. Thank you for everything. Xander—you’re a great Watcher. Never stop making jokes. Even if they are stupid. I’ve always loved you. Willow . . . you’re the best friend any girl could ever want. I love you. You’re a wonderful Watcher too, and your children will be very lucky to have such a wonderful mom.” Willow lets out a cry and clings to Xander, who is also crying. Buffy looks at Giles, her Watcher. “Giles . . . I couldn’t have done it without you. Any of it. Thank you so much for everything . . . thank you for insisting I obey my calling.
“It took your life away,” he protests. Buffy shakes her head.
“It let me live,” she says softly. Then she looked at me and I can see the truth in her eyes. She will not be here much longer. Only a moment, and then the only woman I have ever loved will be gone.
“Angel. I love you,” she whispers, tears slipping out of her eyes. “More than anything or anyone. I love you.”
“You don’t have to talk,” I tell her, but she shakes her head.
“Just this one . . . you have to know . . . you make me happy. You always did. No one ever made me happy like you did. Like you do. I said I needed someone who made me happy, and I was right. I just didn’t know that it was you because I was blind. I know now. And you do. You make me so happy, just being near me. I love you. Remember that. Remember,” she whispers. I am nodding now, and crying, because I never knew and now it was too late. Ten years I wished that I could make her happy and now I know that I did . . . too late.
“I will,” I promise. “I will.”
“Good-bye,” she whispers, and then her green eyes close for the last time and I am left there, alone, with the knowledge that for even a moment I have made her happy.