TITLE: Angels

SERIES: None.

AUTHOR: Jessikast
EMAIL: jessgordon@hotmail.com

FEEDBACK: Yes, please.

ARCHIVE/DISTRIBUTION: Fanfiction.net.  M.E.W.A.  If you want it, let me know.

SUMMARY: After her death, Tara gets a job offering.  Just in time, too, because Dawn's power as the Key isn't as stable as they thought…

SPOILERS: Up to the end of season six of Buffy.  Takes place about 3-4 months after the final episodes.
CONTENT/WARNINGS: Willow/Tara (in later parts.)  Possibly some slash pairings in later parts.

RATING: PG, for now.
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon, and the cute little zombie et. al, are the owners. I simply write this for fun, as non-profit work. I mean, I'm a university student.  Do you think I have money?
NOTE: This began life as a song fic.  (Angels, by Robbie Williams, if you're interested.  Lyrics can be found here: http://www.songlyrics.co.nz/lyrics/r/robbiewilliams/angels.htm .)  The idea sort of grew, and now it only has a nodding acquaintance with the song.  Good thing, too – I think I may have had to hurt myself if I wrote a song fic.

Heaven, Tara discovered, was a very pretty place.  It was peaceful, and it made you feel happy, and people you loved were there.  If this is the same place that Buffy went to, I can see why she didn't want to go back, Tara thought.  But after a few days (weeks?) floating around being happy, Tara got bored.  It wasn't that she didn't love being with her mother again.  It wasn't that she didn't like the scenery.  It was that she had been happier, on earth.  With Willow.  For all that heaven had an all pervasive, dreamy happiness, it didn't compare to the sharp elation of her reunion with Willow.  It didn't compare to the quiet joy of lying in bed with Willow, just looking into each other's eyes, and knowing that she was loved.  It didn't compare to comfortable happiness of evenings at Buffy's house, with Buffy and Dawn cheerfully squabbling, Giles looking on in amused reproof, Xander cracking silly jokes, and scarfing the lions share of the junk food, Anya alternatively looking confused, or smiling in delight as she understood a joke, and she and Willow curled together in a corner of the sofa, sometimes in their own little world, and looking up to find on of the others with an 'awww, that's so sweet!' expression on their face.  Heaven just couldn't compete with Willow. 

And in heaven, Tara felt useless.  It was so easy to grow detached there, just waft around feeling happy, and waiting for your loved ones to show up.  But Tara couldn't shake the feeling that down on earth the Scooby gang was fighting something, was facing the apocalypse (again), and they'd need some magic.  And Willow would need to do a spell, and become addicted again, or she'd stay clean and the Scooby Gang would die.  So it was when Gabriel offered her elevation, she took it.

Tara curiously watched the angel approach.  Angels in heaven were everything they were supposed to be, every cliché fulfilled.  Tall beings who shone with a radiant inner light.  Pure white…well, not always robes, but versions of clothes from the period they died.  Faces that looked kind, and perfect and stern.  And the wings…huge white wings, that when you looked closely, flashed with colour – simmering pastels, metallic deep hues and glittering silver, gold and bronze.  Tara had seen angels from a distance during her time in heaven.  They strode purposefully around, often visiting earth, sometimes disturbing the tranquil air with strong beats of their winds as they flew overhead.  Tara blinked in surprise as the angel turned slightly to walk directly towards her.  This particular angel was very old – his clothes couldn't be described as anything other than robes, his blonde hair was long enough to brush his shoulders, and his face had the calm, slightly superior expression that the most senior rank of angels held.  He still looks kind, though.  I wonder if an angel can look anything but kind?  He sat down on the ground next to Tara, somehow managing to avoid sitting on his silver tinged wings. 

"Hello Tara," he said in a soft, deep, too-perfect voice.  "I am the archangel Gabriel."

"Oh!  Sh..should I bow, or s..something?" Tara asked, slightly panicked.  Even though she wasn't a Christian, she had been brought up by a religious family, and she knew that Gabriel was Very Important.  Have I done something wrong?  Should I not be worrying about my friends on earth?

"No, Tara, you do not need to bow to me," Gabriel replied, slightly amused.  "Nor need you fear that we are displeased.  In fact, the opposite is the case.  We have observed that you are a kind person, and you have the welfare of others foremost in your heart.  We believe that you are a candidate to become an angel."

Tara sat in shocked silence for a moment as that sank it.  Then, "An a..an..angel?  Me?  Oh, no, y..you must have m..made a, a mistake."

Gabriel shook his head.  "Do not doubt yourself Tara.  We are not mistaken.  This is an honour indeed, but to become an angel is not an easy task.  We would not ask it of you if we did not think you worthy."  He paused.  "Do you have any knowledge of the process of becoming an angel?"  At Tara's confused look, he continued.  "We archangels are in charge of angels, who are human souls who we have judged worthy of elevation.  I am the archangel with the task of supervision of the earthly angels.  A chosen soul is sent back to earth with a task put upon them – generally it is to take the role of a guardian angel to an individual for a short period of time.  During this time on earth, the angel has several restrictions placed on them.  Only the person whom they are guarding can see them.  Others can, but only in exceptional circumstances, if they are 'psychic' or one of the demon species with the ability of sight.  Manipulating matter is extremely difficult – only with intense concentration can an angel pick up or move things, or make themselves felt to a person.  Conversely, the angel has those abilities natural to us.  Superior strength, an empathic sense, which can become telepathic in unusual situations.  Immortality – no human weapon can wound them…" Tara started a little at this, and raised a hand to the spot on her chest where she still sometimes felt a phantom pain.  Gabriel nodded in understanding, and continued his speech.  "The ability to heal most wounds and illnesses, except those immediately fatal, or those that have been decreed necessary.  Often the angel will carry an attribute of some sort, as a mental aid to focussing their abilities – harps and the music they create are a common choice.  And finally, if you choose, physical perfection," he said, using his hand to indicate his face as an example.

Tara sat in silence, thinking about what he had said.  "What happens once the task is fulfilled?"

"Salvation?  The angel earns their wings.  Until then, the wings are marked on your back.  You know the task is completed when your wings reveal themselves."  It didn't escape Tara's notice that he had moved from using the impersonal 'the angel' to 'you'.

"Are…are there any re..restrictions on who the a..angel can see on earth?"

Gabriel's expression softened.  "You wish to see again family and friends."

Tara nodded, then grimaced.  "N..not family.  But… fr..friends.  Ca..can you t..tell me now?  Are they alright?" she asked hopefully. 

Gabriel shook his head.  "This we can discuss if you agree to elevation.  It is…different in your case."

Tara looked sharply at him, but didn't question him further.  Her curiosity had been sharpened, and she didn't want to lose a chance to return to earth Willow by angering Gabriel.  She frowned as a thought occurred to her.  "Why n..not Buffy?"

"The Slayer?"

"Sh..she's better th..than me.  Her d..destiny is to protect pe..people.  When she w..was here, why d..didn't you…elevate…her?"

Gabriel actually looked faintly embarrassed.  "We were arguing over her."

"Excuse me?"

"Not all exceptional souls become candidates for elevation, such as you are.  I have control of the guardian angels.  Michael is the head of the warring angels, the ones who battle evil.  Other archangels claim spirits for elevation for other purposes – art, judgement, knowledge, and so on.  Michael and I both wanted Buffy.  The only thing we agreed on was that she deserved rest before being asked to work again, for we knew she could not refuse a plea for help from humanity.  We agreed on a year and a day from the time of her death.  You can imagine it was something of a shock to us when she was resurrected."  Gabriel chuckled, ruefully.  The chuckle was, of course, perfect. 

Gabriel stood up, and shook his wings slightly to make sure the feathers were lying perfectly in place.  "I will leave you now, to consider what I have told you.  It is no small thing to accept elevation, and there is no shame in remaining here, in heaven.  Please, when you have reached your decision, call my name.  I will hear you, and send someone for you."  He turned, and walked away, fading as he did so. 

Tara settled in to think, one knee bought up for her hands and chin to rest on.  So…They want me to be an angel.  To help people.  I liked it when I was part of the Scooby Gang – but how much of that was me liking helping save the world, and how much was me liking it when Willow was proud of me, when I could help her friends?  Tara frowned.  Does it matter?  What else will I be doing until… Judgement Day?  The next apocalypse?  If I can do anything to make the world a better place – a world that Buffy and everyone risk their lives every day to save – I should do it.  I risked my life to save it.  Just because I'm dead now, doesn't mean I should stop.  One day my friends will have kids… Tara paused as pain lanced through her at the thought of Willow being with someone else, little red-headed kids running around…as long as she's happy…if I can make the world for their kids safer, I'll do it.  And if I can just see Willow one more time, tell her I love her…. I'll do it.  Mind made up, Tara straightened, and called out.  "Gabriel?  I've decided!"