Apocalypse: Sunnydale, Part II cont.
Wednesday night council meetings were usually pretty dull. All of the community members were invited to attend, once a month, to discuss issues relevant to all of the citizens of the Underground. Usually, matters of groundskeeping and zoning were the hottest topics, plus arguments between neighbors brought forward for arbitration and discussions of community celebrations. The first hours of the gatherings were reserved for the REALLY boring stuff, enclave reporting on crop yields, energy output, educational reports, and discussion of law, crime, and consensus action.
This meeting didn't appear to Angel to be developing any differently. After his work collective gave their planting reports, other business went on as usual, and he was able to let his mind wander to other things...
Like just what the Hell he was going to say to Jeremy when he took him to the softball game on Saturday.
What wisdom did he really have to impart to a human boy about manhood? He wasn't even a man. The heady responsibility of being the one to set this boy -- essentially, his son -- on the road to happy, responsible adulthood gave him a fit every time he thought about it.
//Okay... Stay calm. You're an intelligent, even-keeled demon, just think. What did your father say to you?//
Fergus O'Connor had never said much more to undisciplined young Liam than: "Get a job, you worthless layabout!", "I don't want to hear ya come crying when you get the Syphilis!", and, "Donna be beggin' me for money when you bang up one of those low tramps you run about with, you!"
Not exactly the wisdom he had in mind for his own son.
Angel cleared his head of thoughts of his long-dead father, a trick 100 years of meditation practice made relatively easy. That accomplished, he began to make a mental list of things he had learned in his interactions with humans -- women, in particular -- that had helped him to get by over the centuries.
Respect and honor. Those were the two things he thought would be most important for Jeremy to know when dealing with humans of both genders. Especially women. Human life -- humanity, itself -- was precious, and in these dark days, even more so. And women remained, above all else, the bearers of life. A very important thing.
Patience. That was another imperative character trait. The boy was Buffy, through and through, always hurtling from one moment to the next with little thought for tomorrow, or even the next minute. Angel didn't want him to learn about consequences the way his mother had -- the hard way. Or, more accurately, the near-fatal and psychologically eviscerating, way.
Good. That was a start. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard, after all.
The director of the Stone Masons and the head of the Memorial Committee stood, indicating that they had an issue to raise for community discussion. The funeral director's presence made everyone uncomfortable -- it was usually an indication that someone (or someone's) had died, or were about to die, and funeral arrangements had to be made.
The two men leaving their seats brought Angel immediately back to the present. He was surprised to see them -- very little happened in the community of some 5,000 beings that didn't immediately spread like wildfire throughout, and Angel hadn't heard about anyone dying or becoming seriously ill or injured. It had been so long since the demons withdrew, it was rare for the injured or newly freed to come here to die anymore, either.
He paid strict attention, hoping he would soon have some answer for his confusion.
Alaya, this meeting's moderator, acknowledged the men, and they quickly introduced themselves, uncomfortable under the scowling scrutiny of those gathered in the meeting hall.
"The ground has thawed completely, and the weather has cleared once again. We believe it is time to begin work on the War Memorial."
A pained hush fell over those present. Angel felt a tight squeezing begin in his chest.
"It's time to close the MIA cases." the Defense Leader, an enormous Shalak demon, said, "It has been over two years since the last Prisoner of War returned, and almost as long since the last camp was liberated. I believe we need to put the last of the dead to rest, for the good of their families, and for the entire community."
Silence. Not even a whisper. Angel could hear a hundred slow, mournful heartbeats, and labored breathing.
The moderator, and the Elder's Council, began whispering among themselves. Angel focused intently, trying to use his supernaturally keen hearing to discern their discussion. Of course, the Elders had nothing to hide, really. The whispering was merely a formality, a show of respect, and to spare the Council Members cold discussions about the possible fate of their loved ones -- and the fact that they might soon be declared dead without anyone ever knowing their true fate.
Angel felt years of memories wash over him, as though he were caught in some rising high tide. He remembered the first time he saw Buffy... the first time he took her strong, little hand in his own... He remembered the first time he kissed her, and the first time he told her he loved her, and she said it in return. HE remembered the first time, and the last time, they made love. And he remembered their final, tense meeting, in battle, 15 years ago.
"The elders believe this matter is best put to a common vote." Alaya said, "The families and friends of the missing should determine their ultimate fate. Should the vote say yay, the MIA files will be closed, and the memorial project will commence as soon as possible. If nay, we will continue Special Operations searches as usual. Is everyone prepared for a vote?"
A hum of affirmation filed the room, and the official vote-counters rose and stepped forward to perform their duty.
Angel wished Willow was there beside him. Out of loyalty, and his continued hope that Buffy was still alive, he was inclined to vote nay to closing the MIA files. But his head, and his heart, knew it was time for the community -- and he and his family -- to move on. It was time to give all these mourning hearts some badly needed closure.
"A binding full council vote has been brought to the table." Alaya said formally, "Shall the community of Sunnydale close its list of those missing in action, and begin construction of the war memorial? Please raise you hand if you vote yes."
Angel looked down at the old, worn claddaugh ring on his finger. Once more, his head filled with Buffy's sunshine smile.
After a moment, with tears in his eyes to match those of his neighbors all around him, Angel raised his hand, and said a final goodbye to his one true love.
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He took nearly an hour to walk the short distance from the Council hall to Willow's house. She had made herself scarce since Rhea's carnival the week before... since their stolen kiss. She came late for dinner, when she came at all, and had cancelled tea every day, saying she was too busy.
He knew what had passed between them confused her. He knew she needed time to sort out the complicated relationship they shared.
But tonight, he needed her. Needed to mourn with the only living person who really knew Buffy.
The house was dark when he arrived, and he could see the children's bedroom on the first floor was empty, indicating they had gone to spend the night at the Farm.
'Good.' he thought, as he climbed the stairs, 'I don't think I could handle telling them this, tonight...'
Willow's bedroom door was ajar, and he could see the outline of her sleeping form, curled up in a tight ball under the covers. He felt a little shiver run the length of his spine at the realization of how fiercely he'd come to rely on her as the one sure thing that remained of his old life... the one person, in all the world, who remembered who he once was, and how he had come to be here, now.
He stood in the doorway, watching her deep, even breathing. Her hair splayed out over her pillows, obscuring her pretty face in a silver-streaked, titian waterfall.
Angel realized, with a sudden flash he could almost call an epiphany, that he loved her. Not in the searing, gut-wrenching, soul-deep way he'd loved her best friend, but in a simpler, almost deeper way. Willow was his touchstone... His centre, along with the children. If it had not been for her, he would not be the contented, happy man he was today. Without her, he would never have had the strength to let Buffy go.
He only hoped that Willow would be as prepared as he had been.
He walked slowly to the bed, and sat down on its edge. He looked down at her, and gave in to the sudden urge to reach out and bush her hair away from her face. When he did, he saw that her full, pink lips wore a little smile.
Seeing that, he hesitated. Perhaps it would be better to leave this until tomorrow... let her keep her happy dreams...
But no sooner had he decided to leave, then her eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled sleepily as she realized he was there.
"Hi." she said softly.
Angel looked deeply into her eyes, trying his hardest to keep control... to keep from breaking down like a lost, terrified child in her warm arms. Willow had been strong for him when he hadn't even had the energy or will to rise in the morning. Now it was his turn...
She noticed his pained expression, and slowly sat up.
"Angel... I'm... I'm sorry. For avoiding you all week. I'm just..." she looked away, "I'm really confused. This is... so much... I don't... understand... the way I feel about you. And when you kissed me..." her voice drifted off, and she looked back into his sweet, familiar face.
He sighed softly. "Willow, you don't have to apologize. I do. I shouldn't have... I mean, we should have talked about things, first. I should have thought..." and he too lapsed again into silence, plunged into the memory of why he was here, and for the first time, realized what the night of the carnival had truly meant. Buffy must be dead... and his heart, though forever marked by knowing her, was moving on.
Willow watched his eyes glaze over and his lips frown, and a new fear came over her.
"You didn't come here to talk about us..." she observed.
He shook his head. "No. Not exactly. There's... something else."
Her eyes flew open wide in terror, "Not the children..."
"No, no." he said quickly, "They're fine."
"Then... what?" she searched his face for a sign.
Angel was unable to meet her eyes. After a moment, another realization dawned on her, "The Council meeting... Angel, what happened?"
Almost overcome by the pain of what he was about to say, Angel squeezed his eyes tightly shut, fighting for strength and control yet again.
"There was... a vote... brought to the table tonight. By the... Memorial Committee." he said weakly.
Willow felt her heart lurch in her chest. "But... they... they were going to wait... They weren't going to build the memorial until all the MIA's and POW's were accounted for..." her voice cracked, desperate.
He nodded. "The vote included a referendum to declare the remaining missing..."
"DEAD?!" She cried, "They're NOT DEAD! They can't DO that! BUFFY'S NOT DEAD! " Her voice shattered at the last, and she collapsed, sobbing into his arms.
He rocked her tenderly, placing little kisses into her hair. "I know... I..." he closed his eyes once again, "It was time... it's been six years..."
"No..." Willow cried weakly into his chest, "Nononononononononono...." She shook her head wildly, clutching at him.
Angel finally lost his reserve, and began sobbing right along with her. "I had to... We have to... we have to let her go, Willow. For the kids... for us... We have to. She's not coming back. She's gone." he was babbling senselessly, now, desperately trying to convince himself as much as her that he had done the right thing. He allowed the pain of knowing he would never see the face of the woman who had saved his life... his heart and his soul... ever again crush him like a tidal wave. He clutched Willow to him, hoping that her warm body could keep him from washing away...
It seemed hours that they held one another, and cried. The river of tears slowly became a stream, and then a trickle... the pain had exhausted them both into near numbness. Angel sat with his eyes closed, just listening to her heart beat.
After a moment, she sat up, still in his strong embrace, and looked into his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Angel." she said, "I know how much you loved her."
His heart broke. Willow was the kindest, most selfless soul he had ever known, bar none. Even in the face of her own grief, she was thinking of him, and his pain.
He slowly reached up and brushed a tear away from her soft cheek, and looked deeply into her sad brown eyes. Of all the people in all the world he had known, there was no one else he would have been able to share this pain with... no one else who would understand. There was no one left alive who knew him better. Maybe there was no one who had before, at all... who never judged who he was or who he had been... no one else who asked nothing of him but that he exist, and truly be himself.
Willow blinked as he slowly moved toward her, and gasped involuntarily when his cool lips touched her own warm ones. She hesitated for a split second, and then returned the kiss.
The feeling of her warmth, her living, glorious warmth, so close to him sent a shudder through his body... the kiss became harder... deeper... Angel could hear her heart pounding.
Willow tangled her hands in his careless hair and plunged headlong into the desire that shrieked through her. It had been so long since she'd been with anyone... so many lonely years... the only ease had been Angel's company...
There was no one else left, now. No one left in all the world they had loved, but one another. There was no more hope... only this... this desperate longing, this incredible sadness... and the love that had grown between them.
Willow tore off his light jacket and tee shirt, and pushed him back onto the bed. He didn't resist. In fact, her assertiveness only made him want her more. He devoured her ruthlessly, desperately reaching for her, needing her to fill the void left suddenly within him.
Angel flipped her over and shredded her nightshirt, assaulting her fair, freckled skin with his hands and his mouth... Her lips were so sweet. her skin, like salted silk as he licked her. He didn't think he had ever needed anything as frantically as he need her, right at this moment.
"I love you, Willow..." he whispered into her ear, "I need you so much..."
She sighed, and pulled him closer, "I love you, too, Angel." she said.
The artificial night sang softly around them, and the starlight lit their tear-stained faces as they made love.
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