Author: Wren

Summary: AU. After a long absence, Angel returns to Sunnydale on a mission very similar to his very first.

Disclaimer: The following story is completely fictional. Any events similar to those in any other story are completely accidental. The author is in no way affiliated with Joss Whedon or any of his associates, and therefore has no legal ties or ownership to the original materials upon which this fanfiction is based. Any original characters appearing herein are the sole property of the author, however.

Author's Notes: Originally written in 2001. This story leaves canon somewhere in the early to middle part of Season 4 of Buffy/Season 1 of Angel, though it actually takes place many years in the future. Many parts of it are AU, but all are explained.

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The lights were off, and the room was almost pitch black, yet he could see well enough. After all, staring at the ceiling didn't require good vision. He had been lying there, on this hotel room bed, for hours; not sleeping, just…. staring. The sun would rise in an hour or so, his senses told him. "Another day," he thought idly. The past few hours had been spent replaying the events of the past years over, and over again. As he continued to lie there, concentrating on thinking about nothing, he failed, as he usually did. As always, his mind drifted to her.

He could still see her golden hair glistening in the sunlight; how the sky reflected perfectly in her blue eyes, and how her perfectly shaped lips curled up into a smile when she saw him. He remembered the long hours afterwards, filled with insurmountable joy and pleasure that ended all too quickly. Yes, he never would forget that day. Though it meant nothing to her, since she could not remember it, for Angel, it was his salvation; his reason for continuing to fight the good fight.

Even after she married her college sweetheart Riley, the corn-fed military-minded young man, whom Angel had to admit, did love her undeniably, Angel still clung to his memories of their love. For him, their love would last forever. She'd been the most beautiful bride, just as he'd known she would be. After the wedding, Angel had been forced to assume the role of "friend" to his beloved Buffy. She would call him at all hours, day or night, with the latest exciting news, or tragedy. Occasionally, Angel would go to Sunnydale, or she to LA, to help out with a particularly nasty villain.

Angel clearly recalled when her best friend Willow's high school boyfriend Oz, had run off with her long-term girlfriend Tara. As a result, Willow had fled the country, to England, it was reported, and had not been heard from since. As soon as Buffy'd found out, she had called Angel, sobbing hysterically as she explained what had happened. He was deeply saddened by this, both for Buffy's sake, and because he'd liked the red-haired witch, and had become good friends with her. While he knew both Oz and Tara, he had not become close, though he thought it was very unusual for them both.

He remembered his trip to Sunnydale for Xander and Anya's wedding. Though he found it rather strange that Xander had invited him, Buffy had just shrugged and said, "You're one of the Scoobies, once and forever. And the Scoobies stick together."

He recalled perfectly the day Xander had called him to say that Buffy had just had a baby. He remembered explicitly the mixed feelings of utter despair, and joy upon hearing this news. Falyn, they'd called her. Angel remembered seeing her for the first time, that same day, with Cordelia and Wesley. She'd been beautiful. It was just like with Buffy; it was love at first sight. Angel remembered an overwhelming sense of pride when he held her tiny body, almost like he was the father, instead of Riley. To him, no matter what, she would always be the daughter he had never had; the child that should have been his. Similarly, Angel remembered going to Sunnydale, again in the company of Wesley and Cordelia, when Xander and Anya had had their twins.

Angel recalled the sad day that Giles had decided to move back to England. Feeling his duty with Buffy had been fulfilled, and his usefulness at an end, he'd wanted to finally return home. Angel, Wesley, and Cordelia had all driven up to say a final goodbye. He remembered how Buffy had bawled, finding comfort in the arms of Riley and himself alternately. Even Xander and Anya had cried when the plane departed.

Lastly, Angel remembered the day it had happened. He'd almost walked into the sunlight that day. If not for Cordelia and Wesley knocking him out and chaining him to the bed as they'd gotten fairly good at doing, he would have. A very devastated Xander had called and told Cordelia, who had then managed to tell him, knowing full well it would break his heart. And it did. Angel remembered the hours of numbness that had followed the news… and then the pain. Excruciating, agonizing pain that made him want to rip out his unbeating heart. He'd cried endless tears, for days afterwards. After that, he had quit caring. Sure, he didn't kill anymore, his soul saw to that, but he would be damned all over again if he would continue to fight for an entity that would take away the most important thing in his life, and then force him to continue to live on, fighting the same unending battle. For what good was any redemption; any reward, even humanity; without his Buffy?

He'd gone to the funeral. Everyone had been there, even Giles. Except Willow. He was angry with her for that. She'd abandoned her friend, and it had finally killed her. And she didn't even have the decency to come to the funeral. It wasn't just her, though, it was everyone. He was mad at the world, and everyone in it. He was mad at Xander and Anya for not being there for her, fighting with her, at Riley and Dawn for not stopping her, at the Powers That Be for making her the slayer, and thereby condemning her to an early death. He was mad at Joyce for giving birth to a daughter with whom he would be eternally in love with, and would therefore mourn the death of for eternity. He was mad at Buffy for losing, and for leaving him. He was mad at Cordelia and Wesley for not letting him kill himself and join her in the final abyss. But mostly, he was mad at himself for not being there, and not being able to save her. Oddly, he found himself incapable of being mad at Falyn. There was no way he could blame her for anything. All he felt for her was love and pity.

The funeral had been painful, in and of itself. Everyone had sobbed horribly. Even the sky seemed to mourn for her, as it poured for three days afterwards. His heart had ached for Falyn, who had now lost her mother. But through the whole ordeal, Angel had remained completely free of emotion, and feeling. He had received numerous hugs, one of which was from Cordelia, and would have been lethal if he'd been alive, but he remained numb and detached. He'd known that Cordelia and Wesley were deeply worried about him, especially considering his reaction, but he had simply not cared. The depression he was in had gone beyond the human range of emotion, into his demonic core, which cared about nothing.

The following days had been blurred in a sea of alcohol. He'd locked himself away in his room, and proceeded to realistically attempt to drink himself into oblivion. Unfortunately, oblivion never came, at least it never stayed, and his alcohol and blood supplies had soon run out. That was when he made his decision.

He decided to leave his life behind, everything that had ever meant anything to him, and flee, as he had done so many times before. He'd left a long note to Cordelia, Wesley, Gunn, and even Kate, thanking them for their constant support of him, and explaining how he needed to leave. Then, in the middle of the night, he'd disappeared.

Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn continued on fairly well after his departure. Occasionally, Angel would tap his resources to see how they were managing. They'd continued to keep up Angel Investigations, taking on the still vision-driven cases themselves, and overall, doing fine.

As for Angel, he fled to Georgia. After a month or so of living very much the way he had in the early '90s in New York, as a homeless bum, he began to recreate some semblance of a life. He kept himself in shape with the equipment he'd bought, as well as the nightly patrols through the streets of Atlanta. He'd taken a job at a center for juvenile delinquents, and was doing okay. He finally realized that as much as he tried to avoid it, he always ended up helping people. Some where along the line he'd heard that Riley had committed suicide within a day or two after the funeral, leaving Falyn to be raised by her aunt and grandmother. Awhile later he learned that Giles had passed away, and had sent flowers, 24 white roses, to the funeral, and to the homes of Giles' family, Buffy's family, and Xander and Anya.

As the months wore on, he never sent word, and never gave them anything to track him with. He changed jobs and locations almost every month, moving to New Orleans, Mexico City, Montreal, Denver, and finally San Antonio. Everywhere he went, it was the same thing: rent a room, get a job with social services of some kind, rid the city of demons and vampires.

He found his fights were more intense now, a little more risky. He allowed a little more of his demon to come out, and was therefore more powerful. The long-buried satisfaction, joy even, of making a kill resurfaced, and he found himself longing for those nightly bouts that he could lose himself in. Afterwards, he would treat himself to a stiff round or two at a local bar. Several times he had been tempted to lose his soul to a pretty young woman, but had finally declined each time, due to his conscience's relentlessness. He noticed that his bloodlust had increased, and that he was consuming more at each "meal", but he didn't care. He still helped out during the day at his job, and afterwards he would make the city a better place. He looked at it as he was doing what he was supposed to do, and therefore was allowed to get a little more enjoyment out of it.

It was during one of these sittings at a bar that he'd heard the latest news from Sunnydale. He'd happened to be sitting within hearing range, which for him was the entire confines of the building, of a table of Watchers. They had been discussing the new slayer, "Buffy's replacement," Angel's heart cried out. Though he knew it could well be Faith's, it was more likely to be Buffy's. "Such a shame, too. Only got a few months out of her. Now that last one, Buffy, she was something. What'd she have, over 10 years? Set a record, that one," one drunken Englishman raved. Angel's ears perked up at the mention of his love, but so did his pain. At the mere mention of her name he was nearly sent into the grieving process all over again. "It's too bad we can't off that rogue one. With two again, they'd have better chances against the rising evil," another mused. "Yeah the hellmouth's been a real hellhole. There's some demon-fighting group, supposedly old friends of that Buffy's I hear, that've been a real help keeping it in line, but th'new girl, Felicia, was it? She di'n even make it over there," a third lamented. "Did y'hear who the new one is?" the second asked excitedly, very pleased to have a secret. "Naw, they didn't tell me," the first shook its head. The second Watcher giggled, and looked around a moment. Then he leaned in, and spoke in a medium whisper to the other two, "Her name's Falyn. I hear she's Buffy's daughter." The other two shook their heads in disbelief. "Yep! Just got called. They sen' her watcher out jus' today."

Angel froze, his eyes becoming wide. "No!" he whispered. Suddenly, he was filled with uncontrollable rage. The glass in his hand shattered, making people jump up, screaming and yelling. Angel ignored them, feeling his true face slide on. Quickly, he ran out of the bar and down the alley.

When he'd gone almost a mile at a swift jog, he stopped. "No!!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. He brought his fist back and punched the nearest brick wall, embedding his arm up to his elbow. "Nooo!" he cried again, his voice cracking as his body was overtook with sobs. Was this revenge? Was this their way of getting back at him? He didn't answer their visions, so they took the only thing left that he cared about? "How could they?" he muttered in a dangerous whisper, shaking his head. "How DARE they!" he said louder, through a controlled voice that made evident the amount of pure hate and rage was behind it. "Damn you Powers!! Damn you to the farthest depths of hell!!" he shouted, his voice once again cracking as he broke down into another wave of sobbing.

He wasn't sure how he got home that night. He wasn't sure of how long he'd lain in bed, staring into space. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. He did know that Falyn, his Falyn, was about to be summoned as the next slayer. He could picture how heartbroken and devastated her family and the remaining Scooby gang would be. Who would be her watcher? Would they be as good as Giles or even Wesley? Angel shook his head. No. There was only going to be one Giles, and Wesley… well, he was a far better comrade than a Watcher any day. Angel knew for certain that, like her mother before her, Falyn would fight the good fight, and she would fight it well, maybe even beating out Buffy as the longest and oldest active slayer, but eventually, she would die fighting.

That was when he made his decision. It occurred to him that perhaps this had been their plan all along, but nonetheless, he made up his mind. He was going to go back to Sunnydale. He was going to be with Falyn through this, and he wasn't going to leave her, not "for her own good", which had turned out to be not so true, not for anything. He vowed that he would fight beside her through every battle, and that she would never know defeat. He vowed that when she died, it would be as an old woman, with a full life behind her. With that decided, he soon fell into the most restful sleep he'd had in months.

The next morning he awoke, refreshed for the first time in a long while, and made his way to his last day of work. He went through the day normally, not anxious, and not laid back. At five o'clock when he was done, he walked out of the building, without giving his notice, and without saying goodbye. He got into his car and set out onto the highway. He did not stop, except to gas up, until he saw the sign that read, "Now Entering Sunnydale- Welcome Back!"

Angel pulled over next to the sign, gazing at it. He was exhausted, but oddly energized. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, "It's been awhile…"