"You are a Curtiss P-40 Warhawk," Xander said walking around the perimeter of his plane. "You have a top speed of 360 miles per hour. A bomb load capacity of 500 pounds and six, count them, six .50 caliber guns." He ran his hand along the edge of the right wing. "You're a little afraid of those high-speed bank turns but that's okay." He strolled around the end of the tail. "The dives will be as easy as back home at Lake Elizabeth. That's a promise." He swaggered his way toward the left wing. "And the barrel rolls with be smooth and flawless. That's a promise." He ran his hand along the edge of the left wing. "You're fighting fit and I aim to keep it that way. You take care of me; I take care of you."

He stood there staring at his fighter. It was his ritual to run through the flight plan before they went up into the air. He looked at the nose thinking some teeth painted there would look pretty swank.

"Now when..."

"Talking to your plane again?" Angel asked walking out of the hangar. "You know the guys think you're crazy for doing that."

"Let them think what they want," Xander replied. "It brings me luck."

"Luck huh?"

"Don't you start."

"I won't, I won't."

"So how'd it go last night with Buffy?"

Angel's smile told him everything.

"Oh," was all Xander could say.

"Yeah," Angel replied. "How'd it go with Anya?"

"She's a sweet gal."

"There's a but in there right?"

"But nothing. She's sweet and pretty and...Ah hell. I don't know. Something just isn't there."

"It's either there or it isn't," Angel replied.

"Says the man who possesses the 'there.'"

Angel would have asked if something was wrong but Spike came barreling past them out of the hangar.

"Let's get these ladies in the air boys!" He shouted running past.

Angel looked to Xander who was laughing at Spike's exuberance. Xander looked back to him and smiled. Angel decided to drop any question he had for his friend. It was time to fly.

Ten minutes into the training op. Angel could sense something was wrong, though he was unsure of what exactly it could be. P-40's were the best planes the Military had. Much better than those P51 Mustangs the Fighting Hound Dog Squad buzzed around in.

"What's wrong?" He asked. He knew he made fun of Xander for talking to his plane, but he too found something oddly comforting in it.

Tighten up that formation McAllister! Commander Giles' voice blared into the radio.

On it sir. Angel answered.

Something wrong? Xander asked.

She feels real tight. Angel said. Stick doesn't want to move hardly.

I always knew you gripped it too hard. Spike chirped in.

Can it William! Giles warned. If she feels off Angel bring'er back in and we'll have Ethan take a look.

I can handle her Commander.

You sure?

Yes sir.

Then get back with the squad and tighten that formation!

Yes sir!

Angel grunted against the stick as he maneuvered back alongside Xander. They were flying close enough to where Angel could see Xander's head turn toward him.

Are you sure everything's fine? He asked.

I said it was. Angel barked.

The squadron kept formation as it banked a hard left and down for the valley floor. Practice gun runs was one of Angel's favorite ops. They rose above the surrounding hills, the endless sea of green trees spilling underneath them. Angel's forehead beaded with sweat as he continued to struggle with the controls.

Let's take that run again. Giles commanded. Looked a little sloppy coming out of the valley.

Yes sir. Everyone replied.

They banked again, Angel's plane jerking slightly out of form, and dove for the valley once more. Wesley led the charge through, Oz to his left and Spike to his right. Xander and Angel brought up the rear. They zipped through the valley flawlessly, the bottoms of their planes nearly skimming the treetops. The hills approached quickly and Wesley, Oz, and Spike pulled up and out easily. Xander dropped back when it seemed like Angel wouldn't be following so easily.

What the hell are you doing? Xander shouted. Pull up!

It won't move! Angel shouted back. The sticks locked! She won't pull!

The hills were coming closer with each ticking second. If he couldn't pull out he'd be dead.

She's not budging!

Just pull! Xander was yelling, simultaneously pounding on the glass of his cockpit and keeping his plane in control.

She's not pulling. Angel said quietly. He watched the hills get closer, coming far too quickly now. He knew he wasn't going to make it.

You be the one to tell Buffy. Angel said.

What? Don't talk like that! Just pull that fucking thing up!

Angel didn't respond. He let his last few thoughts on earth bring him peace.

Seconds later Liam "Angel" McAllister's P-40 fighter plane smashed into the face of Skyline Hill.

"Angel!!!" Xander shouted seeing the flames rise from the hillside milliseconds before his own plane flew up and over. He circled around again seeing the flame and smoke rise from the wreckage. The truth was blazing bright orange below but he couldn't acknowledge it. Angel was gone. He wished the fire would burn hot enough to salt the earth.

***

He watched her from outside the doors of the hospital. He wasn't exactly sure how long he'd been standing there. He had no watch, and his feet refused to move and inch for him. His eyes stung from the glare of the sun reflecting off the windows, but he couldn't tear them away. He could almost see her through the glare. He knew he would have to go in there sooner or later. Not a chance in hell was he not going to fulfill his best friend's last wish. Wiping the remaining tears from his eyes, he took a deep breath and forced his legs to move.

He didn't hear a sound as he advanced forward through the hall. Just mere months ago Angel had guided him through this very hall, his nose bleeding like a faucet. He didn't look at the chairs where they had sat. He couldn't. He saw movement everywhere but his eyes wouldn't make out anything. He couldn't even hear his own feet squeak along the tile.

"Hi Xander," Anya said with a smile, coming out of a room.

His name caused Buffy to look up at him. She saw instantly the distant, desolate look of despair layered across his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but never had to say a word. Just looking at him she knew. Her tears spilled seconds before he made it around the desk and put his arms around her. He looked to Anya; she clearly saw the question in his eyes.

"Go," she said. "I'll cover for her."

He escorted Buffy out of the hospital never letting go of her. They stopped on a bench at the park across the street. No one was around.

"How?" She asked so quietly her barely heard her.

"He went down flying," he said.

She nodded solemnly; finally letting her sobs overtake her. Xander began to cry as well, knowing that he was with the one person in the world whose sense of loss matched his.

***

The entire Hellmouth Squadron stood in their dress uniforms surrounding the casket that kept the remains of their friend. It was made of the finest quality polished mahogany. An American flag lay draped over half of the coffin while flowers took up the other. Commander Giles, Oz, Spike, Wesley, and Jonathan stood at attention, arms up in a salute. Tara, Cordelia, Anya, Amy, and Willow stood next to them, in black dresses with tissues in hand. Angel and Xander's parents stood at one end, their father consoling their mother. Everyone except Buffy and Xander bowed their heads as the priest spoke his prayers. The two couldn't take their eyes the casket. Each of them silently refusing to believe he was actually gone. Their eyes met for a brief moment, red and swollen from crying, a quiet understanding flowing between them. They didn't know what it meant. All they knew was at that moment they could understand each other better than anyone.

A few minutes later the priest finished with his words and the moment was shattered. Xander moved next to Buffy as the officers in the distance began the twenty-one gun salute. He squeezed her shoulder gently as she flinched from the sound of the gunshots. Two other officers removed the flag from the coffin, folded it into a triangle and handed it to their mother. The squad stood at attention once more as the pallbearers began to lower the coffin into the ground. The priest sprinkled holy water as it sank slowly. Buffy removed herself from Xander's hold and pulled something from her bag. She kneeled next to the hole and set it atop the casket. Xander smiled sadly as he saw it. The rose Angel had given her that night at the club. She then picked up a small mound of dirt and sprinkled it across.

"Good-bye," she said softly.

He helped her to her feet and she turned into his arms and began to cry once more.

Everyone began walking off in their own directions when the ceremony ended. Xander shook hands with all his friends and the girls all hugged him lightly. He kissed his mother on the cheek and hugged stepfather in the manly manner. Buffy still stood at the spot where Angel's coffin now rest in the ground. Xander's mother told him to go to her.

He approached her slowly; not sure what to do now that everyone wasn't there. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"If you ever need anything," he said. "Anything at all. Just ask."

She looked up to him, smiling sadly through her tears.

"Thank you."

He nodded before removing his hand and turning away to leave her alone.