Apocalypse: Sunnydale, Part I Continued
Once he'd regained his strength, it didn't take Angel long to be busy again. There was plenty of hard work to be done around the city, for those that had the strong backs to do it.
It was a bizarre sensation, stripping his shirt off in the fields for relief from the hot sun. Sometimes he would shield his eyes and just stare at it... a marvel he had never imagined he would experience. He relished the feeling of plunging his hands deep into the cool soil... the strain of his muscles as he dug, and pulled and lifted. He felt connected to the land immediately, in a way he didn't think he ever had as a boy in the rolling green hills of Ireland.
He'd fallen into a comfortable routine of work and play... it was Friday, and he headed home for a wash before Willow would arrive for their weekly "date". They usually tried to do something special and out of the ordinary on weekends: an old movie, or dancing, or some ethnic restaurant or another... Willow called herself his entertainment director. And he adored her for it.
The ways in which she had grown and changed endlessly fascinated him. He saw little hints of strange new qualities about her... wisdom, maturity... moments of complete and utter self-assurance...
But under it all, he could still recognize her shyness... her constant struggle to please... her fear, compounded by years of loss...
Willow was a gifted healer and a Witch of some renown in the community. She had become deeply spiritual over the years, and sometimes in the afternoon, she would come to the fields and fetch him, and they would meditate or practice Tai Chi together under the oak trees as the sun set red behind them.
She had grown from a frightened, vulnerable mouse of a girl to a strong, vulnerable lion of a woman.
That night, when he greeted her at the door, he could tell immediately from the expression on her face that something was wrong.
He sighed deeply, quickly tense. What else could there be? Who was left, now, to care about, other than the two of them? Everyone else they had known and loved was long dead, or gone without a trace...
She clearly had Guilty Face.
"I have to talk to you." She said, pushing past him and marching into the study.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise and followed her.
"Lumiere." he said, and a fire burst to life in the hearth.
Angel found he really enjoyed the little luxuries afforded by a world that used both technology and magick.
He poured them matching snifters of brandy, and sat with his after handing Willow hers.
She noticed Angel had taken to wearing velvets and silks, again. For a while, he would wear only plain cotton.
"I like your shirt." She said.
He brushed the fine black material lightly. "I'm getting softer." he joked.
Willow tried to force a smile, but grimaced, instead.
"Willow, what is it?" he encouraged.
She sighed deeply, and ran a fine hand through her long auburn hair.
"Angel, there's something..." she hesitated, "I'vebeenhidingsomethingfromyousinceyou'vebeenbackandit'sdrivingmecrazyand
Idon'twantyoutohatemefornottellingyou..."
Her confession came out as one long word, and he put his hand on her arm. "Hey. Calm down. It's okay. What is it? You can tell me."
Willow looked up at him woefully. "I should probably show you." She said.
Angel automatically got up and grabbed his jacket. "Okay, let's go."
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Angel knew that abandoned and orphaned children were raised communally on the outskirts of the city, but he had never come this far away from the center of the town before.
This enormous biodome simulated a rural area much like the one where he worked, complete with cows, silos, and neat, endless rows of grain.
He felt free just watching it all rush past them, the fields stained gold with the sunshine. He loved being out this long before sunset, listening to the quiet whir of the electric train they rode as it made its way from the city. The trip brought to mind similar ones he had taken to Dublin with his father as a boy. Of course, they traveled by carriage, then, and young Liam was more eager to leave the narrow countryside he grew up in than go toward it. But the sensation was much the same... the excitement and freedom of going somewhere... else.
Willow's continued silence and tension reminded him that it was possible he was fleeing toward something far more important than a nice change of scenery.
The orphan commune (called "Children's Farm" by the community), looked more like an idyllic New England town than the dark, dungeon-like fortresses where unwanted children were dumped in his youth.
Simple, whitewashed buildings framed an open courtyard, and behind were all the trappings of a farm -- a sprawling main house, a big red barn, milk cows lowing in the field, and chickens scattering everywhere in mortal terror at the sound of the old shepherd dog barking as it chased them across the yard.
Angel felt like he'd walked into a living postcard.
"I'd rather have grown up here than my own home..." he said wistfully, watching children scramble here and there, themselves chased by laughing teenagers and adults.
"Well, I guess we learned something from the war, huh?" Willow said, smiling at him, "We care a lot more about children now, than we used to."
"Wise." he said.
"Evolution." Willow replied. By then, they had arrived at the main house. They climbed the wooden steps, and she looked up at him as she pressed the buzzer.
"There are things I haven't told you..." she said again.
He gave her a look.
"Okay, so I haven't told you much of anything. It's all... it's hard to talk about. But this... " she looked down at the ground, "This is important."
A sweet-looking slip of a teenager opened the door and peered out at them.
"Hi, Tina." Willow said.
The blue eyed girl smiled broadly. "Dr. Harris! Hi!" She said, opening the screen door to let them in.
Willow patted her head as she entered, and the girl rolled her eyes. She looked down at Angel, who stood nervously at the bottom of the steps. "Come on in." she said, without hesitation.
It never stopped amazing him, how his kind were welcomed in this community.
"How are you, T?" Willow asked as they walked to the living room.
"Good. I'm done with 10th year this spring."
"Good for you!" Willow said, "Did you do okay in Quantum Theory?"
The girl grinned. "Thanks to you..."
Willow wrinkled up her nose in delight. Teaching was still what she loved best, no matter what profession the war had steered her to.
"They're in the TV room." Tina went on, then turned to Angel, "I'm Tina, by the way, hi." She offered a daintily manicured hand.
Angel smiled and shook it, noting the pale pink of her nail polish.
//Nice to see things haven't changed too much... or, at least, teenaged girls haven't...//
He'd endured an unending parade of fashion experimentation with Buffy when she was young. Hundreds of outfits, dozens of pairs of shoes, thousands of pieces of jewelry, five shades of blonde hair color, and at least fifty kinds of lipstick. He was expected to have an opinion on each. He really hadn't cared... he would have loved her if she was painted with pond scum, and wore a potato sack. He'd go through it all again, if he could... He'd listen to her whine and grouse and complain about how lousy her life was, how hard it was to find just the right this or that to wear, if only he could see her again.
He realized, suddenly, that Tina had left the room while his mind wandered, and Willow sat on the couch, staring at him.
"Sorry." He said.
"It's okay... I..." she got up from her seat and wandered to the window, gazing out over the fields, "I told you what happened to Buffy."
He nodded, struggling against the familiar pang yet again. "She was taken by the Scourge." he said flatly.
Willow nodded.
"There's more?" he asked.
She turned to face him. "I told you about Buffy being taken... but... what I haven't told you is what came before."
Angel waited. Time couldn't move any more slowly for him than it already did. He was never in any hurry.
"We had lives, even after the war started in earnest. Even after the world around us feel apart to the point that even the most blind couldn't ignore it... We still did regular things... celebrated holidays, went to the movies, fell in love...got married..."
Angel knew Willow had. She had married Xander Harris right before he went off to get himself killed at the Battle of Golden Gate in 2006. The same battle from which Angel had been captured, underground, and dragged away to the pits.
"I know, Willow. But I don't..." he began.
She held up her hand to silence him. "Buffy had a life, too. Even when she was fighting, the whole time. Once they destroyed the Initiative, and freed all the soldiers, including Riley, from the drugs the government had given them... Buffy and Riley... they..."
"Got married." Angel finished for her. He wasn't surprised. He remembered the warm, easy rapport he had observed between Buffy and the commando, on the few occasions he had to be around them. And the jealous pain was more like a beating with a club, now, than the slashing with a rapier it might once have been.
"Right... married." Willow agreed, "But, there's more..."
Angel stared at her. A realization started to dawn on him... where they were... why they might be here...
"She had... has..." she corrected herself quickly, "Two children. A boy and a girl. Jeremy and Rhea. She was already pregnant with Jeremy the last time you saw her. He's 12, now. Rhea is 6."
Silence.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just didn't know how... and... you were so weak..."
"They're here?" he asked weakly.
Willow nodded. "In the next room."
Angel looked at the door. "Can we... can I... see them?"
She smiled. "Of course. That's why I brought you here."
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The TV room was brightly decorated, and every flat surface was littered with magazines, comic books, VCR tapes, toys, and video game cartridges. Five children sat around a table, intently playing a three-dimensional board game, whispering and giggling amongst themselves.
Angel knew immediately which two they sought. Jeremy was tall and broad, with a warm, inviting smile and an unruly mop of golden hair... exactly the things he remembered about Riley Finn.
The little girl, Rhea, almost drove him into tears again. She had long, blonde curls and big, misty green eyes, and at the moment, she was pouting so hard, it made Angel's dead heart hurt.
She was Buffy. A perfect, tiny replica of the one person who had ever meant anything to him in his long, miserable life.
He wondered if Slayer powers ran in the blood, as Rhea seemed to sense their entry, and looked up. She regarded he and Willow seriously for a minute before she rose and crossed the room to approach them.
"Hello, Auntie Willow." She said sweetly, but her keen eyes were riveted on Angel.
"Aunt Willow!" The boy bellowed, bolting across the room and shoving his sister out of the way to dive into Willow's waiting arms.
Rhea seemed unfazed by her older brother's outburst, and she patiently turned her full attention to Angel, leaving Willow's entertainment to her obviously capable brother, who was babbling endlessly.
She had to crane her head to look up at him, so he dropped into a crouch and brought them to eye level with one another.
"Who are you?" She asked him seriously.
"I'm Angel." He said.
"My name is Rhea Summers-Finn. Did you know my mommy?"
Angel's heart shattered into a million pieces. "Yes..." he said quietly, "I did. Very well."
"I thought so." Rhea said.
Willow ducked in to save him, "Rhea, why don't you go get your crystal set, and you can show it to Angel?"
The little girl looked up at her Aunt for a moment, then back at him. "It glows... all by itself." she told him.
Angel smiled.
Rhea turned and backed slowly out of the room, never taking her eyes off of Angel's face.
He stared after her, feeling a shiver run down his spine.
"She's got the Sight." Willow told him, "She'll be a fine Spinner, one day..."
Angel nodded at her, but still looked at the now-empty doorway through which little Rhea had disappeared. So pretty... so self-assured, just like her mother...
Suddenly, Jeremy was standing before him, offering his hand. "Hello, sir. I'm Jeremy. It's nice to meet you." He said in his best Company Voice.
Angel brought himself back to reality, and smiled down at the handsome boy. "It's my pleasure." he said, and shook Jeremy's hand heartily.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Willow and Angel spent the entire afternoon with the children, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at their accomplishments, and all of the many possessions they brought out to parade before them for inspection.
Watching them was the more exhilarating and bizarre experience Angel could remember. It was like gazing into a time bubble, where Riley Finn and Buffy still existed as the children they might once have been.
He was exhausted and flabbergasted by the day's events. In another time, in another world, these might be his children... and there might have been another among them: a dark-haired, curious, intelligent child with a sharp wit and a smart mouth. A small carbon copy of himself to match these others.
"They're amazing." he said to Willow as they boarded the transport back to the city." So much energy..." Only children could be so resilient, when not other creature seemed to be boundless, these days.
"Yes, they are." Willow agreed, watching the farm disappear in the distance behind them.
They walked slowly back to the singles' quarters from the train station, listening to the sounds of the artificial night all around them.
"It sounds so real... it even smells like night. It just amazes me, what you've all built here." Angel said.
Willow smiled sadly. "Buffy was the heart behind this... she'd fight all night, then spend the days in endless meetings, always insisting on little details she thought were most important about the old world... You would have been proud of her."
Angel returned his friend's smile, then reached out and took her hand.
"I am." he said, and looked longingly up at the holographic moon shining down on them.
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