Just roll with this, please. Basically, the apocalypse in L.A. has happened, and this is the aftermath with regards to Buffy and Angel, the unconcluded love story. But it's not ridiculous, over-the-counter love, don't worry, I don't write gushy stuff like that. I write about the depth of those emotions. ANYWAYS, wow, I blab a lot, I'll work on that, I promise. OH, by the way, there will be a time that you will inevitably question my logic, but have no fear, i actually know what i'm doing... (sortof) ;-)

Here you go:

plunge right in


"Oh God," she gasped. After uttering those words, there was no more room for conscious thought or commanding herself to breathe. Breaths were stolen from her in panting bliss. The shocked look open on her face as she rushed forward was also filled with the most intense relief.

Her world was back, her life was back.

Out of her mind with emotions on a scale undreamed of, her frantic running steps could not carry her to him any faster. Her destined love; the fates could deny them no longer.

The speed of light would not have been fast enough to reunite her with Angel. Her Angel. In so many ways, not only in name. Her salvation had arrived, and when all hope had been lost.


Her world had come crushing down when she had heard of the Apocalypse in L.A. She had thought that Angel didn't matter to her anymore, that she could live without him. She told herself that she'd lived without him the whole time he'd been in Los Angeles, but now that he was gone, truly gone, there was a gaping hole in her soul that could not be mended.

She had felt his death, and nothing anyone had said or done had convinced her that there was any hope of his survival. The Apocalypse was as real as its definition;

her world had ended.

For days afterwards, she had sunk into the deepest depression. Willow's heart was almost broken as she witnessed her friend's descent into darkness; nothing she tried had any affect on Buffy. Even Giles had been called in to try something, anything, to reach the trauma-stricken Slayer.

It was nothing any of them had experienced; truly, they were in a new age. The fact that Angel and his comrades had won the battle was of absolutely no consolation. The demons had been returned to their world, and this world returned to its former state. His victory was empty to her. Giles insisted that prophesy proclaimed his triumph should have given him his life back, in the human form.

The only words Buffy had in return, the only words she had spoken since then, were "He's gone."

There was nothing to be said to that. Her friends had kept her as healthy as possible, tending to her body's needs, but nothing could be done for her spirit.

Four days after his demise, they decided to take her outside, hoping that a change of scenery would spark something, a sign of life. They brought her to the park, a place teeming with life and hope.

Emptiness in her eyes. The world was empty, she was empty. She couldn't tell where the surface was to this plunging chasm. All was darkness before her. They left her in the quiet of nature, the only sounds coming from birds and wind in the trees. Worried glances flicked back and forth between them like the wavering light of a candle caught in wind. They wouldn't give up on her; she had never given up on them.

To be honest, however, they were beginning to lose hope. There was no cure for this malady of the soul. Only time would tell what would become of the Slayer.