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Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. They belong to Joss and his associates. I write for the enjoyment and satisfaction.
I come here often, to enjoy the silence and serenity. I like to listen to the wind whistling through the leaves. The sound it makes is intoxicating; it is a symphony of nature, an endless tune to which I pay homage on special occassions. It reminds me of her.
I used to bring her here. We would sit for hours, comforted in each other's arms. Sometimes we would talk of tomorrow, sometimes we would just sit there . . .listening, smelling the green grass and feeling the moonlight on our skin. Sometimes she would look up at me and ask what I was thinking. Did she know then what I am feeling now? Did she, with all her gifts, forsee a night when I would visit this place without her?
It all went by so quickly. It wasn't supposed to be like this. But Whistler had put it clear to me once: the more you live in the world, the more you realize how apart from it you really are. He knew then, perhaps. For all his strengths as a demon, clairvoyance had to be something he claimed. What did it matter now? Whistler had ceased with his visits when the war had begun. Even the Immortals sent to even the score were recalled eventually. Maybe the Fates thought that Good was too close to victory to need assistance or maybe defeat was ineviatble and he had fled to start anew somewhere else. So many questions, not enough time.
Never enough time.
"Angel?"
I turn to see Willow. Not the teenager with her wide smile and innocent aura, but Wilow, my most loyal advisor and strategist. She is still very beautiful, but her eyes are void of innocence . . . a casualty of a war that has brought much suffering and grief.
"Yes?"
"Xander's returned with the information we needed."
Xander, I remember his sarcastic youthful self, one embedded with an instinctive hatred for me. But even those feelings fade with time. One Buffy passed, we mended our relationship, more because we knew that was what Buffy would have wanted. I can't help but smile. If only Buffy could see us now. Working together, saving each other, enjoying comfortable silence alone, together. He is the closest thing to a brother that I have known, and Willow, the closest thing to a sister. They are my family. It's wierd, but war has that affect.
Willow awaits patiently. She understands my need to do this. She loved Buffy almost as much as I did. There is peace in the air and I am glad. I've fought myself out, and I come home tonight . . .to Buffy. I've earned it and she deserves to be loved. I will make her wait no longer. My debt to humanity has been repaid.
I turn to Willow with a look of peace. She notices it and tears form in her eyes. She knows all too well the fate that is destined for me. She smiles despite her sadness. She understands that death is not a punishment for me, but a reward.
"Ready our soldiers, Will, and get Xander and the others in the meeting room."
"Okay." She hesitates.
I drop to one knee before Buffy's grave. "My love, you've been gone ten years and I promised to never leave you. I stayed to fight the war and I sense victory. I also know that tonight, I keep my promise to you. I will come home to spend eternity with you."
Whistler appears to me in that second. "She's waiting for you, my friend, we all are."
"We?"
"The Council of Good. You have a seat waiting there. A much deserved on, Angel. She sends her love."
I smile. There is only one fight left and it is one we will win. "Willow . . . prepare for battle."