Prologue, A Death and a Regret

In a moment, wood pierces his heart, he is dust in the wind, and his life is over.

His soul hesitates as if he isn't sure what just happened, and he catches the briefest hazy glimpse of the creature that took his life.

Before he can wrap his mind around it, there's darkness, a distinct scent of cinnamon, a hard tug and a whooshing sound, almost like he's being sucked somewhere else. The part of him that can still think wonders if he's going to heaven or hell or some variant in between, and then. . .

There's nothingness.

His consciousness comes back online without fanfare, and he gasps though he hasn't needed air for as long as he can remember. He's surprised to recognize that he can feel his limbs and body, and he tentatively moves them in wonder before opening his eyes.

He discovers he's lying on his side and that the cool dampness beneath his fingers is the dew on grass in a small forest clearing. Trees of a type he doesn't recognize tower above him, oddly shaped leaves on thick branches canopying over him and only letting past stray beams of light. As his hearing returns, he realizes that the world around him is as quiet as an empty church except for a light breeze that rustles the limbs above.

He glances down at himself and sees that his body is whole and clad all in black, and he wonders what this means for his afterlife. He pushes himself off the ground and looks all around him, searching for some sign of what he's supposed to do. . . where he's supposed to go. He sees nothing. . . no path, no buildings, no signs of any beings besides himself.

When he's about to choose a direction, a familiar voice fills his ears from behind, "Hey, stranger."

He spins to see if what he's hearing is real, and his jaw drops. "Cordy."

"So you finally left the mortal coil, huh?"

He's stunned because she looks beautiful, her dark hair long and wavy and her smile bright and vibrant as ever, and all he can manage is a shrug and sheepish, "Yeah."

There's an awkward silence, and then, he grunts as she throws her arms around him. "It's so good to see you, Angel!"

He hugs her back and buries his face in her hair, inhales her familiar scent. She's warm and feels so alive. He can even hear her heartbeat. "W-where are we?"

She draws back from him, her hands resting on his biceps. "Well, we're in a little bit of a holding area."

"What do you mean?" Angel is confused but doesn't want to move away from her. He drinks her in; he hasn't seen her in too long.

"Well, here is where we review your life, go over the highlights. . . the regrets. . . before we move onto the next step. Don't worry. I had to do this, too, and it's easy peasy. They," she wave her hand around, "whoever they are aren't exactly mean about it. They don't make you completely relive the parts that are super painful."

"Oh." Angel thinks for a second. "Wait. Where are we going?"

She kisses his cheek. "Don't worry. You're coming with me. . . it's peaceful. You'll like it there."

Angel is surprised. . . not that he thought he was for sure going to heaven or hell. . . he really didn't know.

"Don't look so shocked. You more than earned it. You've been a good guy now for a lot more centuries than you were doing not so great things."

"Like murdering and torturing people. I didn't know there was a checks and balances thing."

"There isn't. No one knows exactly how the Powers or whoever's out there decides where you go. All I know is that it's not a mathematical equation."

Angel decides not to question it too much. He's just grateful to be in Cordelia's presence again for however long he gets to be. "Great. So let's get reviewing."

She hesitates, steps slightly away from him, and tilts her head to one side, her eyes flicking away from his as if she is listening to something he can't hear. "There's one caveat."

Angel feels his stomach sink if he still has a stomach. "What?"

"When they review your life, they identify your biggest regret, and you get the chance to go back and fix it. Well, it's not really a choice." She frowns. "Huh. I didn't have to do that. Not sure if that's a blessing or a curse."

"Great." How is it that he ends up with something unusual like this even in the ultimate death? "How am I supposed t. . ." His words are cut off as all control over his ability to communicate, move, and have conscious thought is taken from him. Thousands of memories suddenly pour through his mind beyond his power, but for some reason, he doesn't feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable, and within what feels like a few seconds, he is let loose, and he staggers a bit.

Cordelia reaches out to steady him. "How was it? Are you okay?"

Angel can't put words to how he's feeling, so he offers, "I'm okay. Thank you." He smiles at her. "Now what?"

"I really have no clue."

"Any more. . ." Angel points to her head, "you know, communications?"

She shakes her head. "No. Nothing. Ugh. It's so frustrating! Reminds me of how I had no control over those visions. . .only with much less pain."

"Well, that's good at least." He strokes her arm, and she slides her hand into his. He squeezes it in return.

They both look around the clearing, not sure what they're searching for, and then, there's a small knocking sound, almost like a woodpecker is pecking the inside of the largest tree nearby. Cordelia and Angel stare, unsure what to do as the sound gets louder and louder until there's a small pop, and a perfectly round circle forms and a chunk of wood falls to the ground, leaving a small hollow hole the size of a hand in view.

"Well, that's. . . interesting," Cordelia can't help the sarcasm.

They approach the damaged tree with caution, and Angel tries to see anything in the small space, which is at his eye level.

"See anything?" Cordelia asks.

"Nope."

He reaches in without a lot of forethought, after all what could possibly happen here in a supposedly good place? His hand closes around a small piece of paper that's rolled up like a tiny scroll. He unfurls the document and skims over the neatly scripted words. "Oh." He reads the message twice.

"What does it say?!"

"It says that my biggest regret has to do with Buffy and Spike."

Cordelia tries to peer at the note. "Huh?" She's a little annoyed that his biggest regret doesn't have to do with her, but then, she decides not to complain about it because he's here with her now and will be going with her when he's done.

He dips the paper to show her. "It says I regret not encouraging them to be together sooner."

"But that makes no sense. . . Buffy and Spike have been gone a long time. They're at peace. . . in different places but at peace."

Angel is silent for several seconds before he looks Cordelia in the eye and is honest with her, "Yes, but they could have had more time together if I hadn't played some role in keeping them apart." He thinks about how hard his grandchilde tried, how he started doing good before he got his soul, and how he treated the newly souled vampire after he came back through the amulet. Angel also considers how much he loved and will always love Buffy even if she wasn't meant for him in the long run of his life. Out of jealousy, he hadn't wanted Spike to be with Buffy and consciously and sometimes unconsciously prevented their connection. "I understand why this is one of my biggest regrets, especially given what happened to them. Maybe not my biggest regret, but that's apparently not my decision."

"But what happened wasn't your fault," Cordelia reassures him.

Angel meets her gaze. "I think I know what I have to do. . . how to fix it."

"How? You have to choose a point in time to go back to and do something different."

"I'm not sure how, but I gue. . . ."

Angel feels another tug but a less bewildering one this time, and he is gone.