- Posted on AO3 for the IWRY 2021 Marathon. Buffy/Angel story, post-AtS 5x22.

- Jumping onto the post-NFA bandwagon. This is my first bangel fanfic, so I'm really excited/nervous to share this! Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series, nor do I make any money from this.

Buffy gazed at the television intently, her hand stiff from clenching her coffee mug but she didn't bother adjusting her grip. A small part of her, still in foolish denial, wanted to believe she was dreaming, asleep in a vivid nightmare but no, this was real life. She'd faced so many apocalypses already, they'd started to feel more like a regular Wednesday but this one unnerved her. It threw her off her axis, her world spinning out and she had nowhere to land, just free-falling through the air, waiting for the impact.

"Buffy."

Giles was standing in the doorway, eyes briefly glancing at the television before swinging back to her. She couldn't tell what was on his face - sympathy, sorrow, disapproval, a confirmation of what he'd suspected? She'd rather not find out.

"We're ready?" she asked briskly, putting on her 'no-nonsense, all business' tone. She was the face of the Slayers Organization, a key leader; she needed to set aside her feelings for now, this wasn't the time to consider the uneasiness in her gut.

"Yes, everyone's here."

"Good."

Buffy turned off the CNN report on the television, joined Giles and the two of them walked into the central command room, several people already seated and whispering among themselves. Some of the Watchers surveyed Buffy as she took her seat between Giles and Colleen, but she ignored the eyes on her; she knew some of the people in this room had been part of the operation to monitor the situation in LA, and had an idea of the connections she had to the people there. There was no doubt in her mind they had news to share.

The large TV screen in the room flickered to life, showing an ABC news report of what was being dubbed "The Fall of LA." The fall of the angels. Buffy wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the name.

There were camera shots of crumbling buildings, fires burning in the distance, people walking in the street, bloodied and injured, some covered in dust. The reporter mentioned rumours of terrorist attacks, unforeseen natural disasters, anything but the supernatural; the human mind spinning a comforting lie. These were one of the times she missed those.

"Eli, your report?" Giles asked, everyone quieting down and Eli, a Watcher in his early thirties, stood up and cleared his throat.

"We had seven of our registered slayers, five scouts and three independent slayers located in the state of California. We have no knowledge of whether the independent ones went to engage in the battle, but our slayers and scouts reported they were heading into battle at 00:20 hours. Our reports estimate the battle began at 00:10 hours, but we have received no news or status reports from anyone since then. Squadrons 5-7 are already en-route to LA, and the Silver Unit is preparing for travel along with the possibility of assembling a second front. We are sending in an intelligence team to assess the cause and the events leading up to the battle. So far, we have evidence that points to the centre of destruction being highly concentrated in the neighbourhood of West Hollywood."

West Hollywood. The Hyperion Hotel. Angel's home. Buffy stopped believing in coincidence a long time ago.

She glanced down, her hands were shaking a little, which made her coffee slosh around and she finally set down her mug, tucking her hands under her lap. She looked at the TV screen again, now showing a helicopter shot of LA; there was so much dust in the air, it coated the sky, blocking out any sort of colour. Buffy wondered if his ashes were a part of all that smog.

Buffy studies the large cork-board on the wall, her eyes brushing over old childhood photos, award ribbons and an LA Kings poster to find a drawing of a beach. It's just a sketch, made of pencil and worn paper, black lines interwoven carefully to create the waves of the ocean, high peaks drawn to be cliffs, tiny figures representing people in the distance and a narrow lighthouse further away. It looks peaceful, warm, and whoever drew this is skilled, they've been doing this for a long time, longer than most -

A door opens, and Buffy whirls around, a little wary and there's a boy in the doorway, a little older than Dawn. He's wearing regular clothes, jeans and a khaki jacket, backpack slung lazily on his shoulder and his blue eyes narrow slightly, his hand still on the doorknob. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

"You must be Connor," Buffy says, not sure how else to greet Angel and Darla's son.

Before her memories had been somehow taken, she'd known Connor existed. The secret got out eventually, especially since Faith and Willow both spent time in LA with Angel and his friends, along with occasional calls from Cordelia when help was needed. Buffy hadn't known the full story, still didn't know it now, but she knew enough. Truthfully, it'd left a bitter taste in her mouth, knowing what Darla had been able to have with Angel but she'd pushed away her feelings. She had her own stuff to deal with, and her relationship with Angel was long over, she didn't have any right to be upset.

Then, on a regular Sunday morning, she'd been shopping at a local boutique when the realization hit her: Angel had a son with Darla, and she'd somehow forgotten his existence. After that, she'd gone back to Headquarters, talked it over with Giles, who'd also had the same realization. It had just been another reason to be suspicious of Angel; he'd already signed on to Wolfram & Hart, kept Spike's existence a secret, didn't tell her about Cordelia's death and the Dana incident hadn't helped things. She'd waited, hoped for a call, letter, anything, but it never came. He'd felt almost like a stranger, and Buffy didn't understand any of it. It was too much, too many revelations she couldn't dismiss, especially not as a leader of the Slayers Organization. But what does it matter now? Her reasons sound so pointless, no matter how many times she recites them over and over in her head.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Connor asks, sounding increasingly suspicious as every second passes. His eyes are all Darla, but the look on his face is so reminiscent of Angel, it makes Buffy falter a little before replying.

"I'm not here to hurt you," she cringes a little, she sounds so unconvincing but she continues, "My name is Buffy. You might've heard of me, me and your dad have...a history. I'm looking for him."

"You've wasted a lot of miles for nothing, then. My dad's back in Monterey, teaching Science at East Valley Academy."

Buffy blinks, a little startled before realizing Connor's referring to his other parents. Or is it his adoptive parents? She isn't sure, but whatever. "Sorry, wrong dad. I'm talking about the one who's allergic to the sun, has fangs, used to be the CEO of an evil law firm...any idea where I can find him?"

Connor's expression is now closed off, his eyes unreadable and his mouth drawn into a thin line. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Buffy lets out a tiny huff, trying another way in for answers. "I'm not going to hurt him, I know your dad. You can call Willow...well, actually, she's not really around but there's Faith, I know you know Faith! She can vouch for me, or Spike, if you know him, oh, and there's Cordelia, I knew her-"

"Stop," Connor flinches, holding up a hand, his tone sharp and pained. "I know who you are, Buffy, but I can't help you. The man you're looking for is gone."

Buffy just stares at him. "I don't believe you."

Connor shrugs, finally stepping into the room properly and tosses his backpack on his unmade bed, flopping onto his desk chair. "Not my problem."

Buffy's silent, shifting slightly so she can see the sketch of that beach again. "Nice drawing here. Are you into art?"

"Not really."

"Hmm," Buffy crosses her arms, watching him closely. "I don't know much about art either, but I can appreciate something beautiful when I see it. This person has talent, definitely an acquired skill that takes a lot of time...your dad had that gift."

Connor's gone very still, his eyes on the ground. "It's from a long time ago. A gift from someone."

"What, did you win it in a contest or something? Was it the participation prize?" Buffy comments flippantly, giving Connor a look which he pointedly ignores.

"It's from a long time ago," he repeats firmly, meeting her eyes. "It's nothing more than a drawing. You should go now. I have homework to finish."

"Shame, just when we were getting to know each other," Buffy spares one last look at the sketch before heading towards the door. There's no point in continuing to press Connor, he's clearly done talking and even if she doesn't like Darla, that doesn't mean she holds anything against him. She opens the door, about to step out into the hallway when she pauses, looking back at him for a moment. "I just want to know that Angel's okay...that's all I want. It was nice to meet you."

Buffy leaves, not bothering to stick around for any sort of response and pulls out her phone to call the directory for a taxi to bring her to the airport.

Once Buffy books her flight and makes it through customs, she finds a payphone near her boarding gate and dials in a number long-memorized by heart. It's only after a few rings that he answers.

"Hello, Xander Harris speaking."

"Hey Xan. How's it going?"

"Buffy! I wasn't expecting you to call so soon. How was mini-Angel? Is he as broody as his old man?"

"No, he seemed like a regular kid living a normal life, with a couple skeletons buried in the closet."

"Ah, of course, just like us way back when."

Buffy chuckles, a small smile blooming on her face. "Yeah, pretty much, but it was a dead-end. Connor refused to tell me anything, but I think I have a clue."

"Oh, like a photo of Angel or something? Closet full of black clothes? Blood stash in the mini-fridge?"

"No, it was a drawing."

"A drawing? So, Angel's pursuing a career as a freelance artist?"

"I know it sounds silly, but listen, it was a sketch of a beach, and I know Angel's work. When was the last time he got to take a stroll outside on a beach with good lighting? And it looked new, as in post-LA apocalypse new."

"Buffy…"

"I already booked a flight to Singapore, I'm at my boarding gate right now," Buffy explains sharply before Xander can say what he's thinking, even if she knows what he'll tell her. Him and Angel have never been best friends, but even he had been disturbed by the Fall of LA. Nonetheless, he's worried, just like Giles, that she's chasing a ghost, a dead man and her heart will only break all over again. "They're still there, right? I don't need to get a refund on my flight?"

"Nope, from what my team knows, they're still in Singapore, causing trouble and being the worst superheroes ever," Xander replies, clearly picking up on Buffy's reluctance to talk about Angel. "Reports usually cite them around Yishun or Geylang. I'm sure once you start asking around, you'll find them eventually. Just be careful."

"We both know he won't hurt me."

"Well, there's a good chance she might, based on the information we have about her."

"I'll be careful," Buffy promises, "Any news from Willow? Giles?"

"Still haven't heard from Willow, and Giles just sounds busy with work, now that you're on leave. You know he'll call eventually."

"That'll be a pleasant conversation. Maybe I can just direct him to Dawn, she might set him straight about me wanting to find Angel."

"Buffy, look, it's co-"

"If you're gonna say complicated, I know. It's not my life if that word isn't being used," Buffy jokes weakly, "Just give me time until you decide to pull an intervention and drag me back to Scotland, okay? I won't be gone forever...I just need a while."

"And there goes my plan to get Willow to hold your intervention on a higher plane," Xander sighs dramatically, his tone teasing but she recognizes the reluctant agreement. "I better go, I have a meeting to prepare for and Ainsley's giving me the evil eye. Stay safe, Buff."

"I'll call again soon," Buffy promises, "Bye."

The aftershocks from the Fall of LA did nothing to help the city. Thousands had been and continued to be evacuated, homes destroyed and abandoned, rubble and smoke still covered the city, and the death toll rose everyday (with more demons being drawn to the chaos of it all, preying on helpless people). News stations around the world declared LA would never be the same, it'd take decades for the city to ever return to its former glory - Buffy's reminded of a large crater, once a town, now rock and dust. To think the cornerstones of her past are gone forever, no foundation of her childhood or youth to ever be found again.

Another hard hit was the loss of every Slayer and scout located in California - they'd all gone to LA to join the fight when news first broke, and lost their lives defending the city. The mood at Headquarters had been somber, Buffy could barely keep it together when their deaths were announced. She'd started this organization to help out her fellow Slayers, ensure they got the support they needed, to show them they weren't alone in the fight. It hurt when one of their own went down, the people Buffy worked so hard to protect.

With those losses and increasingly worrying reports, the Slayers Organization sent more reinforcements to help the city, and Buffy volunteered immediately to go; no one tried to stop her, everyone knew why she was going after more research revealed Angel and his friends were largely connected to the Fall. Giles and Xander stayed back at Headquarters, not everyone could leave their posts but Buffy knew Faith was going, taking a plane in from Venezuela.

While Buffy and her friends occupied high-ranking and integral positions within the SO, Faith had chosen to stay with the field work, not wanting to be weighed down by a life of bureaucracy and meetings. Still, everyone treated her with as much reverence as they did Buffy, and she'd rarely been denied anything in the SO; she had a lot more freedom than any other slayer in the Organization. Faith was in Venezuela for several months, tracking a vicious and powerful clan of demons, too far from civilization for anyone to make contact until it was too late. Buffy had been told by Giles that Faith had torn apart an entire building at the news of LA and Angel, and Buffy had never been afraid to face Faith before, not really but now she couldn't ignore the ball of dread growing in the pit of her stomach at the prospect of their reunion.

And so, Buffy found her in the lobby of the LA base they'd set up, ordering a bunch of slayers about to go out onto the streets to patrol and fight.

"FROM DUSK TILL DAWN, YOU WILL HUNT DOWN EVERY DEMON YOU SEE LOOKING FOR A SNACK! YOU WILL NOT REST, YOU WILL NOT STOP FOR A FUCKIN' WASHROOM BREAK, YOU WILL FIGHT UNTIL EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY IS SCREAMING FOR REST, AND THEN SOME! AM I CLEAR?" Faith roared, scanning the group as if daring them to disobey her but they nodded quickly, scurrying away to go gear up.

Once they dispersed, Faith sighed, her shoulders sagged and she rubbed her face tiredly as Buffy approached slowly. She looked up at the noise, her expression shifting from exhaustion to something akin to resentment. "I really don't think you wanna talk to me right now."

"It's good to see you too," Buffy replied wryly, hesitating before adopting a more gentle tone. She could see Faith's eyes were bloodshot, rimmed red and her cheeks were puffy, tinged pink. "How are you?"

"I just came back from a morgue in West Hollywood where I found Wesley and Gunn," Faith shoved trembling hands into her pockets, examining the ground intently. Buffy never met Gunn, only heard about him from conversations about Angel's team in LA, and Wesley was never really a friend, but she heard how he changed, joined Angel's cause. But now he was gone, went down fighting just like so many of Angel's other friends. Where was Angel now? "I took the bodies, I want to give them a proper funeral, so they don't have to rot in a mass grave."

"I'm so sorry, Faith."

"Bullshit," Buffy winced a little at the venom in Faith's voice. "How can you be sorry when you knew what was going on?"

"I didn't-"

"But you did! I've talked to the Watchers here, they told me Angel and his team were being monitored for months, and apparently we didn't think Angel could be trusted. Fucking Angel, a champion!" Faith laughed humourlessly, unshed tears brimming in her eyes. Buffy knew all too well what an infuriated and vengeful Faith looked like, but not this one, grief and guilt and disappointment set in her gaze. "He even called for help when Fred was dying and what did we do? Jack squat!"

Buffy released a shaky sigh, shutting her eyes momentarily, shame and remorse tugging at her chest. Giles had taken that call, but she'd been in the room, watched as Angel's angry and demanding tone blared through the phone; she'd considered helping, it was Angel but she had so many doubts clouding her mind. There was already so much she didn't understand about the choices he'd been making lately, and she couldn't risk playing into bigger hands, not when the Organization was still in a tentative position, all those slayers counting on her. So, she relented, and chose not to help Angel. Maybe this was the price for turning him away.

"Let's face it, he's probably dead. And if he isn't, then he'll probably die anyway because who can help him? Not us apparently, instead it was the other slayers and scouts that are dead now too, while you twiddled your thumbs in Scotland and I chased around demons like a fucking dumbass. Some slayers we are," Faith wiped her eyes, shaking her head in disgust and walked away.

"Faith!"

"Stay away from me, Buffy! I'm done talking."

It took a week of combing through demon bars, interrogating anyone with even the tiniest bit of information, and patrolling through a couple Singapore city districts, but Buffy eventually finds Spike and Illyria. Or, more accurately, they find her; it's almost midnight and she's walking by a closed supermarket, tumbler filled with lukewarm coffee in her hand and a couple hidden weapons in her suede jacket.

She pauses in her step, getting the sense that someone is watching her, observing and a figure drops down from above, landing gracefully on their feet and advances quickly. Buffy sets her tumbler down, shifting into a defensive stance just as the incoming figure tries to punch her; Buffy manages to dodge it, the force grazing her head and she responds with a kick to their torso, sending the figure staggering back.

Buffy takes the chance to deliver a hard punch to their face, their skin rough but then the figure grabs her arm, shoving Buffy back and sends her flying into the cold pavement; she lets out a small hiss in pain, whoever she's fighting is strong, definitely not the average demon. She recovers into an offensive fighting stance, whipping a stake out of her sleeve when someone else approaches, bleached hair shining in the night and a lighter casts odd shadows against black clothing.

"Thought I'd step in before you get the chance to use that stake," Spike greets her, lighting a cigarette lazily, "it was a surprise to hear you'd been looking for us, pet."

"This is her?" the other one demands, the person Buffy had been fighting but now she can see it's a woman, her hair and skin tinged blue, wearing a skintight maroon-leather suit, almost resembling an exoskeleton suit or armour. Her large blue eyes scan Buffy haughtily, her expression cold and her stance seems to emanate raw strength and power, something lingering underneath that tells Buffy this woman is much older than she looks.

"Illyria, Buffy Summers, the...well, a Slayer now. Buffy, this is Illyria, an ancient demon known as an Old One, living in the body of Fred Burkle."

Buffy heard about Fred before, the descriptions she'd gotten said Fred had soft brown hair and dark eyes, a warm smile always gracing her face and an easy energy about her, she was the kind of person you could easily approach. Buffy can see none of that now in the woman standing before her.

"A Slayer," Illyria notes, her tone flat and almost disdainful, "the Last Chosen One, no less. How painfully common."

Buffy stares, a little miffed but Spike only seems amused, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. "What can we do for you?"

"Angel. I'm looking for him. Wanna point me in his direction?"

Illyria just studies her callously as Spike answers slowly, looking a little incredulous. "Slayer, we've had this conversation before, I told you myself, Angel's dead. Me and Illyria saw it with our own eyes. If he was still alive, don't you think you'd know, that you would've seen him by now? Wouldn't he be here, standing right next to me, a part of the fight?"

"Part of this?" Buffy raises an eyebrow, pointing a hand at both Spike and Illyria. Last time she checked, Spike and Angel hated each other and she's not even sure if Illyria actually likes Spike.

"Where else would he go? Your bloody Watchers Council 2.0 or whatever it's called?" Spike snorts, shaking his head in amusement, "He can't exactly stay with his boy, which leaves me and Blue here, the last ones left of Angel's precious family, still fighting. If Angel was alive, he'd be here with us. What makes you think he's still around anyway, love?"

"Well, I finally heard about the Shanshu prophecy, added it to the Fall of LA, did the math and the answer came up as Angel's alive."

Spike bursts out laughing. "You think Angel's alive because you finally heard about bloody Shanshu?"

"Look, I've already gotten the same lecture from everyone else, but I know a prophecy like that isn't just...I don't believe that Angel's gone. Not after learning about Shanshu."

"You reek of denial and arrogance. It's pungent," Illyria comments, and Buffy glares at her a little. "You delude yourself with comforting lies, hoping it will warm you until the grief passes. It is quite foolish of a slayer to ignore the bluntness of death."

"If anyone could achieve Shanshu, Angel would, and if anyone can find him, it'll be me."

Illyria gives no response, just staring at Buffy with cold curiosity so Spike speaks up. "Sorry, love, we can't help you. Seeing as we were fighting alongside Angel, we'd know if he was alive. Like I told you the first time, he's dead."

"Please. If you know anything, tell me. Don't lie to me."

"And what are you gonna do if we are?" Spike muses carelessly, but she's known him for a long time now, she can hear the undercurrent of a threat, a promise that if she wants to fight, they will.

Buffy knows she can take Spike, he might even hold back a little on her but somehow she doubts Illyria will ease up on her, much less either of them will crack if they do know something. Besides, it's not worth all the trouble to end on bad terms, not with Spike.

"If you don't have anything, then I guess this is where we part ways," Buffy concedes tiredly, managing a tiny smile, "but you're always welcome to come to Scotland, join the Slayers Organization. We're not just working with slayers, we've been working with witches, humans, peaceful demon clans too...we're doing a lot of good. We could always use more help."

"Join the slayers?" Illyria sniffs, looking contemptuous. "And degrade myself to such feeble powers? Defile my name? I will do no such thing."

"Uh, what Blue said," Spike adds, "I've already got my hands full with her, and we've already done our bit with bureaucracy. Wolfram & Hart still like to remind us they're still around, keep us on our toes with a couple demons occasionally. We'd be a liability to you in the end, don't need other people mixed up in our business."

"Alright," Buffy holds her hands up in surrender," but if you ever need any help don't hesitate to call. Illyria, it was...nice to finally meet you."

"You were not entirely unpleasant or dull," Illyria sniffs, head suddenly turning to the left, her face alert. "Vraka demons...they're near. The scent is strong."

Illyria disappears into the night, Buffy still unsure what to make of her, leaving Spike. They exchange soft smiles, neither sure who should say goodbye first; any feelings between them have long-faded, now just a note in history but still, neither can deny the roles they once occupied in each other's lives.

"Don't be a stranger, love," Spike speaks first, his voice gentle. "I'll always be around if you need me, don't forget that."

"I won't," Buffy replies earnestly, "and don't be afraid to drop by Scotland, I'll give you and Illyria the whole tour. Stay safe, Spike."

The cheap beer from the gas station tastes a little bit like piss, even more so since the Scottish don't slack when it comes to booze, but it's been a long day, week, month and Buffy doesn't really care at this point.

Cars honk occasionally and sirens wail in the distance, a staple of the New York City ambiance, currently a dull sound thanks to the walls of the hotel Buffy's been staying in for the past two weeks. She knows Angel spent some time here in the past, she's been combing any city that has some relation to him, New York City being the latest, but she's come up with nothing. She's looking for one out of hundreds of millions, and it's starting to wear. It's been a month of travelling wherever, sleeping in whatever hotel that has an available room and living off chips and stale coffee. But she can't go home, not yet, she can't quit now.

Her phone rings, and Buffy sets her beer down, turning her attention away from a rerun of Fear Factor playing on TV and checks the ID. It's Giles; they'd argued the night before, the words 'insensitive' and 'naive' being tossed around, ending in Buffy hanging up on him. They'll make up eventually, he might even be calling now to apologize but she's not interested tonight. Her phone buzzes, and she looks at it again, this time it's a message from Xander and surprisingly, Faith.

Xander: Finally got an update on Willow. She's doing well, studying kinetic energies of the plane she's on, and will be back in a month. Found another 3 slayers. Cleveland hellmouth activity declining a little. Call soon.

Faith: Finally heard about what you're up to. Let me know if you need a hand.

Buffy doesn't respond, just stares blankly at the two messages.

Xander's been sending her updates every few days or so, she has to stay in the loop so that's no surprise, but Buffy hasn't heard from Faith ever since they reunited in LA.

She'd taken the loss of Angel and his friends pretty hard - a month after the Fall, she'd gone on leave, stepped back from the Organization. She disappeared before anyone could ask what her plans were, maybe even convince her to stay; even now, no one knows where she went, or what she did while she was gone. It was only a couple months ago that she'd come back to work, gone to the SO's Cleveland outpost where she helped train slayers and did nightly patrols.

Rona and Satsu send updates on Cleveland, since they officially rank higher than Faith, and their reports mention her occasionally, but that's the extent of any contact between Faith and Buffy along with the rest of the gang. They never really can get it right - can never fully get along, something always comes along to fracture things between them.

Even now, the wording of Faith's message tells Buffy enough. It's not where are you, let me join, I want to help, let's find Angel, but rather let me know if you need a hand. Maybe Faith thinks it's pointless to search, maybe she doesn't want to get her hopes up or she thinks working together would be fraught with tension. Buffy gets it. It's hard enough to hope, especially when you've got almost none left in a situation like this.

Maybe she just needs to get some of that hope back from someone who can give it to her.

"What are you doing here?!" Dawn rushes toward her, a grin lighting up her face. She looks older than the last time Buffy saw her, the angles of her face are more defined and her hair looks darker too; she's wearing low-rise jeans and an ashy-red long leather coat that Buffy makes a note to ask her about later. "You didn't tell me you were coming!"

Dawn almost tackles Buffy with a hug, smelling of lavender and spearmint gum. "I thought I'd drop in and surprise my favourite sister. I know you finished all your classes for today, but if you made plans already, I can come by later…?"

"No, no, I'm totally free!" Dawn breaks the hug, looking excited as she rambles on, "I know this great cafe down the street, it serves this awesome - wait, but...Angel, I thought you were looking for him? Did something happen?"

Buffy shakes her head. "I've been looking for weeks now, I've asked around...but nothing. I have no leads."

"Oh, Buffy...okay, this definitely calls for something to eat, I know a great bakery that'll cheer you up," the sisters link arms, Dawn guiding them out of her school campus. "So, they wouldn't tell you anything? Not even Spike?"

"They just gave the he's-dead shtick, and the only thing that came out of these past few weeks was an in-depth knowledge of the average American motel room," Buffy chuckles weakly, "and no one believes me, not really. I know you don't."

"Of course I do, you're my sister," Dawn protests, but Buffy shakes her head, giving her an understanding smile.

"You're supportive, which I'm so grateful for," with Willow gone, Buffy's usual confidant when it came to Angel, she's glad to have her sister to talk to, "but I know if you were in my shoes, you wouldn't be out looking. It's okay, really, I'm well-aware the odds are against me."

"But if you needed my help at all, you know I'd be there in a heartbeat, right?"

"I do, but you have a life here, Dawnie, you should be enjoying college, hanging out with your friends and going out, having fun. I'm not getting in the middle of that."

"You could always abuse your power as leader and get all the slayers to join you in the manhunt for Angel," Dawn jokes, giving Buffy a convincing grin and they both laugh a little. Some of the tension in Buffy's shoulders lessens for a moment, her body relaxing and the spring in her step is a little more energetic.

"So, are you gonna head back to Scotland? I know Giles and Xander are worried about you. You could just go back, rest a little, recuperate and then get back out there. Maybe explore some more leads from home," Dawn suggests, and Buffy gives her a look, her eyes serious and somewhat downcast, her sister understanding without needing an explanation. "But you can't."

"I can't go back, not yet," Buffy reiterates, giving her a sad smile.

"What are you gonna do if you do find him?" Dawn asks gently, giving Buffy a searching look. "What then?"

"I don't know...kick his ass for hiding for so long? Then go track down Spike so I can kick his ass too for lying to me?"

She's deflecting, and she knows it. It's not that she hasn't thought about it, she's replayed the scenario a hundred times over, felt her heart expand painfully at the sight of any dark-haired man in black clothing. But reality has an awful way of knocking her down, and she is so, so afraid that if she does find him, something will be broken between them, that he won't love her anymore.

"You don't have to lie to me, if you're still in love with Angel, it's cool. I'd be more surprised if you weren't."

Buffy doesn't respond, just watching the wet pavement pass by as she and Dawn cross the street. She can tell Dawn's looking her way, trying to discern her expression. "Okaaay...don't say anything then. Oh! There's the bakery, they have this bomb lemon cake, and there's this rose and mint tea, oh my god, I swear it's like springtime in a cup."

"I say we just go to town on all the pastries we can get," Buffy smiles, letting herself get swept away into a fun afternoon with Dawn.

"Send Squadron 6 to cover Beverly Hills, form a 6-block perimeter and engage Bravo formation. The Silver Unit will continue to cover West Hollywood, working outward from the Hyperion," Buffy explained, pointing to a giant map of LA laid on the table, slayers listening intently to her instructions. "Luna, your squadron will employ the Alpha-96 formation, and then-"

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation, and Whitney, a slayer with a nose piercing and black hair in a braid, poked her head in. "Buffy, someone's here to see you."

"Alright, thanks, Whitney. Vi, you can take over the briefing," Buffy left her seat, heading out the door as Vi started going over everyone's orders. Whitney wasn't the only one outside, Faith was also waiting impatiently and Buffy exchanged surprised yet slightly nervous looks with her.

"They haven't told me anything," Faith remarked quietly as they began walking, Whitney leading the way. Buffy felt as if her bones shook with every step she took, a lump growing in her throat, as if her heart was about to tear its way out of her body.

Whitney pushed open the doors that led to the lobby of the building where the SO had set up camp, revealing half-a-dozen slayers with weapons aimed at a slightly bloodied and bruised Spike.

"You," Faith commented quietly, her arms crossed tightly and her eyes narrowed.

"Me," Spike nodded, "I'm-"

"Alive," Buffy breathed out accidentally. Seeing him here made it all the more real, he really was back."You're really alive."

"I am," he agreed, his face unusually somber, " S'pose we might as well skip the pleasantries. I'm here for Wesley and Gunn. Figured your people might've picked them up."

"Yeah, we have them, but why should I hand them over to you? Where's Angel?" Faith demanded heatedly, taking a step forward.

Spike bowed his head, his eyes downcast and Buffy knew what was about to come out of his mouth. "I'm sorry, Angel's dead. He died fighting, a demon took his head off...and he was gone within seconds. I'm sorry."

Faith shook her head numbly, staggering back clumsily and fell against the wall, crumpling to the ground, her face ghost-white. Buffy blinked, the room began to spin violently and she somehow turned to the other slayers in the room, words coming out of her mouth. It felt as if someone had taken over control of her body, and she was watching from the outside, removed from reality. "Leave us. Please go retrieve and prepare the bodies of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and Charles Gunn for Spike."

The slayers trailed out of the room, whispering quietly and side-stepped Faith, leaving the three of them alone. Faith had her face buried in her hands silently, and Spike took a tentative step closer to Buffy. Was she swaying? She couldn't tell. "Last time I saw you, you were shacked up with the Immortal in Rome. Angel and I went there on a wild goose chase...and to see you. Ridiculous, really. You probably would've greeted us with a smack in the face."

"T-That wasn't me," it took Buffy a moment to realize she was talking, but her voice sounded strange, like someone else was speaking through her. "I mean, me and the Immortal...it was just more business than anything, we went on a couple dates but I just needed his help. I was doing some undercover work in Rome, and I needed a decoy sometimes. I didn't know about you guys - not until after, when Andrew told me, I was so busy-"

"Old history now. An apocalypse always makes things feel so long ago," Spike commented heavily, his eyes meeting hers, "a bit like us."

It took Buffy a moment to pull together an answer, barely making sense of the thoughts running through her head. "You were in my heart, and you were always there when I needed you, when I had nothing else to hold on to, but…"

"I wasn't him. We never had what you had with him."

Buffy just stared at the ground, her hands shaking violently. There were a lot of reasons why she and Spike would've never worked, why they weren't meant to be but it's true, what she and Angel had, no one else reached it. No one came close. People have left her, boyfriends would go and leave her behind but it never quite hurt the way it did when Angel would leave her. Why did he always have to leave?

This wasn't the way to say goodbye, she gave him promises of cookie dough, he gave her 'I'm not getting any older' and now it's a broken dream, marred by death. All she could see now was a body turning to dust, eyes wide and mouth parted in surprise, just disintegrating into nothing.

"Do you think he's at Peace?" Buffy blurted out in a whisper. She wasn't sure if she wanted the truth or a lie. All she knew was that where he had gone, as all demons went, she wouldn't ever be able to follow.

Spike paused for a moment, opening his mouth to respond when a group of slayers walked inside, talking animatedly, clearly back from patrolling. A thick haze of dust and smog followed after them, lingering in the building; Buffy could feel it in the air, settling in her lungs, clinging to her clothes, enveloping her.

A pale imitation of how Angel would touch her.

"Your train departs in twenty minutes, please proceed accordingly to the train platform listed on your ticket. Have a nice day!" the booking clerk chirps happily, handing Buffy her ticket to London.

"Thank you, you too," she smiles politely, squeezing past two rambunctious kids waiting for their parents to finish at another counter, and she starts walking through Liverpool railway station.

She spent a couple days with Dawn, going to dinner together and letting Dawn drag her around to all her favourite places in the city. It had been nice to spend some time together, especially since they don't see each other as much anymore but Buffy has someone to find.

She spots the washrooms next to a couple vending machines and a shelf stacked with travel pamphlets, deciding to go now so she won't have to use the train's cramped toilet, and begins weaving her way past incoming passengers. Her eyes sweep carelessly over the travel brochures, drawn by the bright colouring and large texts, but a pamphlet in the bottom corner of the shelf stops her in her stride. It's a beach, with high grey cliffs and thick waves and a thin yellow lighthouse in the distance.

Buffy recognizes it from a dorm room at Stanford.

It's hope, and she grabs onto it.

She practically rips the brochure off the shelf, taking off in a sprint to go buy a new ticket.

On her fourth day in a small coastal Irish village called Lahinch, Buffy finally finds what she's been looking for.

It hadn't been easy making it all the way here; she had to fly to Galway, then rent a car to drive to Lahinch, getting lost once or four times along the way, with only a brochure of the town that matches the drawing from Connor's dorm as her lead. But it's something, and that's more than enough.

There isn't much to do, so Buffy wanders the streets, flitting in and out of local shops, asking the locals if they know a dark-haired man named Angel, but no one can give her an answer.

Around one o'clock, Buffy steps out of a restaurant called Spooney's, peering into her takeout bag filled with warm food and takes out a couple fries, the smell making her stomach rumble and she pops them in her mouth. Maybe she'll head down to the beach again, eat lunch there and see if she finds anything, or she'll call Giles, they're on speaking terms again so she might as well call him to give him an update. She's about to cross the street, take out her iPod to listen to some music when she sees Angel, flesh and bone in the sunlight.

He's across the street, further away, standing outside the doors of a supermarket with a grocery bag in one arm as he checks something in his wallet. His hair's shorter, more cropped and there's a shadow of stubble on his face, even his clothes are slightly different; dark-green jacket, cream-coloured sweater, black pants, not a trace of leather on him. He glances around carelessly and starts walking in Buffy's direction, sunlight catching in his hair and his skin is bathed in warm light. Buffy's frozen, her takeout food having unconsciously slipped from her fingers and her brain can't seem to wrap around the fact that he's outside in the middle of the day, walking casually as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Suddenly, he slows down, faltering in his step, staring straight ahead with a slightly puzzled expression and looks around slowly. His gaze reaches Buffy, their eyes meeting from across the street, his expression morphing from confusion to a flit of emotions: she catches shame, sorrow, fear, other things she can't hope to name, not even in her own mind.

"Buffy?"

He still says her name like a prayer, as if he's calling to God. Only he could ever say her name with such reverence, as if her mere fingertips can offer him absolution.

Somehow, every bad memory she's had concerning his supposed-death slips away, forgotten in this moment. She can forget the month where she could barely sleep because he'd haunt her nightmares, she can forget breaking down in a Scottish tourist shop over a plastic claddagh ring, she can forget only ever crying alone over his death, because he's here and he's alive.

He's human, and that's something she'll never forget.

He crosses the street slowly, his eyes never leaving hers and his expression is carefully neutral, but she can sense he's nervous. They don't speak for a moment, just taking the other in, long-buried fantasies coming back to life, back to fruition. "You found me."

"Yes," Buffy replies, her tongue feeling heavy all of a sudden. "I did."

"How?"

"I went to visit your son, and I recognized a drawing on his wall, of a beach that's in this village. Nice kid, by the way. Very loyal."

Angel smiles fondly, relaxing a little. "I'm glad you two got to meet, despite the circumstances. I hope he didn't give you too much trouble, he told me you came to see him."

"You knew I was looking for you?"

"Once Connor told me, I knew it was a matter of time. Then Spike called, said you went to visit him and Illyria too, so I figured you'd find me eventually."

"Why all the secrecy, then? Why not just tell me where you were, or even that you're alive? You never even mentioned the Shanshu prophecy to me."

It takes a long time before Angel gives her an answer. "I lost the first family I ever really loved because I went up against the Senior Partners, and I needed everyone to believe I was dead, so the people I have left are safe. Connor deserves to have a normal and happy life, Spike shouldn't pay for my mistakes, and neither should Illyria. I wanted them to live in peace, and I needed to start over - learn to be human, something I thought would never come true...until it did."

"You still could've come to me. Whatever you needed, I would've helped you."

"I didn't know where we stood - didn't seem like a good place, if we're being honest."

Buffy bows her head, ashamed. How differently things have turned out. "If it means anything, I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Angel says finally after a moment of thick silence. He picks up her forgotten takeout bag, handing it to her. "I have more food at home if you're hungry."

She smiles.

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