Title: Lake Charles
TV Show: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Beloved Slayer
Rating: T
Summary: After the final battle in L.A, a heartbroken Buffy, along with other survivors, escapes to the Southern parts of Louisiana. She soon discovers that her dream for a normal life with the man she loves is not yet lost for her.
Author's Notes: Thanks to a story I've read here, I decided to write my own that consisted of Buffy and how she felt after the destruction of the city. This is purely a short A/U(Originally a one-shot, but I decided to add a second chapter) that takes place after Chosen but during the series finale of Angel, although it's an entirely different take than what was shown in canon. Enjoy.
Chapter One: Until It's Over
She begrudgingly picks up the battered suitcases, tucking a strand of soot matted hair behind her ear. The City of Angels had perished into acres of strewn rubble. Nothing withstood the damage that was brought forth. Not even the famous Hollywood sign.
In the distance, thick piles of smoke filled the darkened corridors of the night.
Her mouth quivered with anger at the stark realization that was beginning to seep into her consciousness.
But to keep herself from breaking apart, she didn't dwell on the bleakness that now blanketed the city's present and future.
To the ends of the earth, and until her death, she couldn't bring herself to care, despite the guilt and rage that was gnawing in the back of her mind. What mattered to her was no longer here. And they had done nothing to help diffuse the situation that had been placed squarely on her.
Angel was gone, and he would never return. The mere thought left a hole to delve in her heart and mind. The Shanshu Prophecy would never be fulfilled; fading into a sort of dream that would always be just that. With that last chance slithering away, her wish of walking together through the beams of daylight now ceased to exist. Everyone she knew, everyone she loved, was dead. Willow, Xander, Dawn, Spike, the Slayer army. They were all gone. And it made her blood boil with the force of a thousand suns. None of them had expected the last war to end with the loss of their lives.
"Dearest, would you like me to take your bags? You look so out of it. The bus is preparing to take off at any moment, and we need to hurry and get everyone on board before the city collapses," an older woman wearing a frilly dress and a thin chain attached to a pair of reading glasses offered, her eyes frowning.
"Yeah, sure. Thanks," the Slayer muttered, too lost in her emotions. The older woman began placing the bags underneath the bus compartment while the corner of her eye studied Buffy's expression with a steady gaze. Absently, the distraught warrior took the steps that led to the interior of the humming bus. Almost every seat was filled to the brim with residents who had lost everything. She knew that some, like her, had lost loved ones.
Surprise swept her in that they had managed to survive in spite of the hoard of demons and vampires that had overrun the city. A miracle, she surmised. Plopping herself on a tattered seat across the first row, she twisted to speak to the older woman, avoiding the fresh sting of minor cuts that had encased her arms. "Where is this bus heading to?"
"Somewhere in the marshes of Louisiana. Lake Charles, I believe. Last I heard it was a sanctuary for people like us who are trying to escape. Should be safe until we get settled there. None of those monsters lurking about from what I've been told, but let's hope that it's true. Those people sitting behind us don't need to suffer any more than they already have, and they can hardly protect themselves as you can see."
"I know. And the weather? What's it like down there?" the Slayer prodded with urgency in her voice. No longer would someone be there to comfort her. The days of such thing were now long past. The survivors in the bus were considered temporary family, she mentally noted.
"Dear, if you're worried that there's gonna be another Hurricane Katrina, well, for now, you have nothing to worry about," the woman's smile was full of assurance that a part of her was looking for.
Buffy staggered against the seat, almost on the verge of tears as her heart dipped itself into a pool of heartbreak. Without putting up a mental fight, she allowed her mind to access everything; up to the final moment of decapitating the very last demon.
"I take it that you're the only one left as well? None of your loved ones made it?" the woman pressed softly, leaning over the area that separated the driver's seat from the passengers'. Buffy wearily peered through the tinted window before answering, exhaustion reeling her in.
"No one survived. I'm the only one." She played with her fingers in a helpless gesture. As soon as the words left, she felt a wrinkled hand patting hers. "I'm sorry to hear that dear. And the young man you were with…he didn't make it as well?" At the mention of Angel, the Slayer lost the last reins of self-control.
She fought to put forth her answer. "No," she muted sternly, but underneath that facade, her voice was falling apart.
"He was very important to you, wasn't he? I can see it in your eyes."
"He was…he was someone that I loved very much. Someone I was hoping to marry when all of this was over. But I guess it's a wasted dream now."
"I'm deeply sorry that you lost him. But I don't believe that you should beat yourself up for what happened. You should be proud of what he did. He took the time to help me escort these people safely out of harm's way, even risking his life in doing so while trying to protect us from that hideous dragon creature. He was a brave young man, and he fought very well to make sure that all of us made it out okay."
The older woman clasped the Slayer's hand onto hers, trying to bring forth some ounce of comfort to the young woman who was barely adjusting from the death of the man she had deeply loved.
"Perhaps this might help…" the woman mused, her small right hand now shuffling through her breast pocket. "I figured you might want to keep this. I found it sitting on a pile of foundation over on Wilshire when I was escorting the other women." In her wrinkled hand she held the claddagh ring that had once belonged to Angel. Miraculously, no blemishes or scoff marks embellished it.
Sobbing, Buffy gingerly caressed the ring, scarcely noticing the hairs on her arms rising.
"Live…For me," a male voice echoed in her ear. She knew that voice anywhere. Succinct, but familiar. Quickly, she shifted in her seat, surveying the passengers. "Did you hear that?" her eyes widened. That's not possible. How could he...?
"Hear what dear? The only voices I hear are yours and mines," the woman said in a puzzled voice. When the Slayer didn't respond, the woman continued to speak. "Perhaps your beloved is looking out for you after all. Love sure goes beyond the scope of life and death. A miracle is what it is." With that, the plump woman left Buffy unattended, and a sense of wonderment began to envelop her.
Maybe Angel was not entirely dead after all.