The Angel's Knight #37 - Third Time's the Charm
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110 miles north of Los Angeles, October 16, 2017
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I'm not a child.
I'm coming up to my 32nd birthday in a few weeks and I expected that, just like my last dozen or so birthdays, I'd have to celebrate it alone, amidst a crowd of friends and family who neither see nor remember me, who have forgotten that a girl called Dawn Summers ever existed.
Only it won't happen that way this year. All my friends and family lie dead here, all of them except Faith. Just when they started noticing me again they were taken away. I know why it had to happen; I know it was our only hope of saving the world as we know it. But still ... whose idea of a cruel joke was it to give me back my sister (and thereby my own existence, it seems), only to take her away again but a few days later, but minutes after I finally recognized her? Does someone up there think this is funny?
I cried, Faith cried, and I don't think either of us has any tears left now. We lost everything down here, gave it all up for a world that doesn't give a shit. Life's not fair, I've known that for a long time, but this is pushing things, really, really pushing things. It's as if the world goes out of its way to hand the good guys all the shit they can handle and more, just to stay true to that old cliché about the easy roads leading to Hell.
And now Celeste tells me that it isn't over, that there is something left to do. Something that I have to do. What can I do? I'm an apocalyptic one- shot, that's me! I had my chance to bring about the end of the world when Glory tried to sacrifice me and it caused the death of my sister. Never before or after has this whole Key-thing done anything for me. No funky powers, no visions or celestial knowledge, nothing. So what am I supposed to do now? Maybe pick up a sword and kill Faith and myself for good measure? That would fit into the trend here.
She's smiling at me. What does she have to smile about?
"Remember when Cordelia told you about Glory?" Celeste asks me. "Remember when she told you what she really intended to do and how you fit into it?"
Cordelia? You mean the woman lying dead about thirty feet over there? The one who died in this battle you got us into? I wonder why I don't say any of that out loud. Maybe spending over a decade as a ghost has robbed me of the talent to be direct.
"She said I was a key to power," I remember her words. "Some kind of tool for harnessing energy."
Celeste nods. "Glory's world, the one she ruled like a god, also had a Torch, Dawn. Every world has one, or every world that is part of this cruel game the Powers That Be and the First Evil are playing. In Glory's world she created a Key, you, in order to harness that power. Only she lost it all when her world came up as the prize in the latest round of the game and she was banished here along with you."
Great! So I'm a tool to harness the power of a world that was ... what? Destroyed? Turned into Hell? Remade into a cold and sterile place of perfect order? Just peachy! That will look good on my résumé.
Faith is looking at Celeste with narrowed eyes, anger, sadness, and weariness mixing together into the kind of explosive cocktail that has sent her off the deep end more than once. Does she know something I don't?
"You can fix this," Faith suddenly jumps at Celeste. "I know who you are! You can fix this! You have the power!"
She knows who Celeste is? "Faith? What are you talking about? How can anyone fix ...?"
Faith grabs Celeste and pulls her close until they are nose to nose, giving her a glare that would make plants whither and die. Celeste doesn't even blink.
"I figured it out," she forces out between clenched teeth. "When you used my voice to scare off those two big-wigs! You only did this all for yourself, didn't you? It was all to ensure that you survived, nothing else."
I'm still missing something here, ain't I?
"She is the Torch, Dawnie," Faith says, guessing my thoughts. "She is the prize they all fought for, the big teddy bear at the stand. And she didn't want to go home with either of the fuckers who played, because either way it would have ended up with her royally screwed."
She is the Torch? I look back and forth between her and that giant pillar of flame behind us. I can feel the power churning inside it, no wonder everyone wanted it. But Celeste? How can she...?
"She is right, Dawn," Celeste says calmly. "I knew this world was coming up in the game. I knew I had to do something. If the Powers That Be had won I would have been snuffed like a candle. If the First Evil had won I'd have gone out in one final blaze of power that would have blanketed the world. Either way I'd have been dead."
She gives me a look that, for the first time, makes her appear like the young girl she pretends to be. "I didn't want to die," she whispers.
I almost stagger back as a memory forces itself to the forefront of my mind. A fake memory, I know that, but that doesn't make it any less powerful. It was twenty years ago, give or take, and I had only just found out that my big sister was sneaking out every night to do this cool superhero stuff she did. I followed her to the Sunnydale High school library that night and was right there to hear Giles tell her that she was destined to die fighting the Master.
The look on her face nearly killed me right then and there. I had never seen her so scared. Buffy was supposed to be strong and brave. She wasn't supposed to be scared.
"I don't want to die," she whispered. I didn't want her to die, either.
"But it's okay that we all die for you, right?" Faith snarls at her, wrenching me back to the present. "Think everyone else can bite the big one because you're just fine? Well think again, kid! You've got all this power stored up there, enough power to turn an entire world into Hell. Use it for something good for a change! Bring my friends back!"
Can she do that? What am I saying, of course she can. This Torch thing is supposed to be what gave life to all the demons and vampires, made all the myths and stuff real. It can give life, can't it? It can bring them all back.
"I can't do that," Celeste says, shattering all my hopes in a heartbeat.
"Bullshit!" Faith tightens her grip on the girl.
"Don't you think if I could have done something like that I would have done it sooner?" Celeste asks her. "It took all I had, all the strings I could pull, just to give myself this mortal form. It took an impossible event to make an impossible child, a loophole I could slip through. I am the Torch, but my power is for everyone else to wield, never myself.
"I shouldn't even be here. I shouldn't be self-aware." She turns to look at me. "It's only through your sister that I am, Dawn. When she died the first time, when she fell into my flames as Master Nest unleashed me, her spirit was so strong and fierce that it resonated within me. It awoke something, something that was never meant to wake. The Powers and the First couldn't see me because the very thought of a Torch becoming something more than a simple chalice of power is so ludicrous it would never occur to them."
I feel fresh tears rolling down my cheeks. I didn't know I had any left.
"So it's over?" I ask her, begging for her to tell me I'm wrong. "They're all gone?"
Then, suddenly, she smiles again. "Not quite yet, Dawn. Not quite yet. Again, remember what Cordelia said about what you are?"
I'm confused for a moment, but then it hits me. I'm the Key, a tool created to harness the power of the Torch. Sure, the power of the Torch from another world, but still ...
"You mean I can ... can I? But how? I ... I don't even have the slightest clue where to start. How can I do it? Can I bring them back? How? You have to tell me how!"
Faith finally lets go of her, a tiny ember of hope in her eyes. Can I do this? Do I have the power ... well no, I don't have the power, but I can access the power. Can I? I don't know. How does one go about bringing roughly six hundred dead people back to life? Is it even possible? A terrible thing suddenly occurs to me.
"They won't be ...," I begin, uncertain how to voice my thoughts. "They won't be like this, this thing, right? That thing that thought it was Buffy until Diana, I mean Buffy, told it that it wasn't and it reverted to type? They won't be like that, won't they?"
Celeste shakes her head. "No, Dawn. Creatures like the Buffy double, or Giles and Darla for that matter, are created under very specific circumstances. We are going to do something different, you and I."
"But how ...?"
She shushes me and a moment later her hands are resting on my shoulders. A warm feeling spreads through me, as if I'm lying next to a fireplace in a comfy living room. A shiver of delight travels up my spine and a gasp escapes my lips as I feel it:
Power! So much power! I felt the barest glimpse of it on the day this Doc creature used me to open up Glory's portal (or what we thought was a portal then), but now it's different. I'm standing right here and the thing I was created for is right here as well. I can feel it burning, the heat of a thousand suns dancing in the tips of its flames. So much power, so many possibilities.
I see the strands that reach into the flames, so many thoughts and dreams. A billion and more people reaching out without knowing, touching the Torch to draw inspiration from it even as the Torch gives life to their dreams in turn. I see a world alive with the power of magic, the sparkle in a child's eye as it listens to a story about knights and dragons. I feel myself covered in fur as I run through the forest with a pack of werewolves and taste blood in my mouth as a vampire drinks from a dying victim. The wind rushes beneath my wings as a dragon takes flight in Romania and I shudder with delight as an apprentice sorcerer in England manages to make a feather fly with but a flick of his wand.
It's all here, all that power, right at my fingertips. I was made for this, made to reach into these flames and wield them as I see fit. No, not as I see fit. I was made as a tool, someone else's will was supposed to guide me. I was never meant to do it by myself, that's why I never felt anything. A gun can't pull it's own trigger. It needs someone else to do it. A smile is on my lips. Just like Celeste, just like the Torch, I was never meant to be like this. Aware, alive, given my own will. But I am. And there is but one thing I want to do with this power. Only one thing I really want.
I don't know how I do what I do. I could no more explain it than a human being could explain how it makes its heart beat. It's just something you do, something so ingrained into what you are that it can't be put into words. God, how did I ever stop doing it? How come I never felt all this power just under my feet in all these years? Right now I don't really care. I breathe deeply and the power flows out from the Torch, the flames embracing me, and I release it into the giant chamber around me.
The world changes because I want it to. Magic, quantum theory, who gives a damn how it really works? I want, therefore it happens. I open my eyes and I see the lights. Souls, hundreds of souls. They are still here, none of them have departed. The brightest is the one Faith still cradles in her left hand, almost forgotten now. Angel's soul, torn out by his own hand, it's so bright. Another soul is right there, circling around it like a moon to a world, and I don't even have to guess to know who that is.
The power flows outward from me like a thousand small fingers, caressing the flesh of cooling bodies, brushing across wounds that have killed. But I don't want them to be lethal, so they aren't. Flesh mends back together, blood regenerates at speeds that would make a Slayer green with envy. Avoiding the bodies of the demons isn't even a strain. They feel different, cold, unreal. Constructs of the Torch, I remind myself. Real only because we believed in them. I don't believe in them right now. I only believe that my friends and family should be alive again and so they are.
Just one demon rises from its own ashes, dust reforming into a human shape even as a golden light flies from Faith's hand and merges back into its chest. But no, that isn't quite right, and it takes but a single thought to adjust it. To make it right once and for all.
A gasp from hundreds of throats, air pumping back into lungs that are no longer still, blood pounding through veins that already started to wither. Hearts beating, synapses firing, eyes opening to take in the miracle that is happening right here. The elation that floods through me is almost too much to bear. I have done this. I am doing this. All this power and it's all mine. There is nothing I can't do. Nothing I can't accomplish. It's almost like I'm ...
My thoughts are going off in a direction I don't like when Buffy rises from the dead (for the third time, too) and looks directly at me. It's all it takes. She is my sister, my mother, my anchor in this world. I look at her and I know that I have everything I need, everything I want. No, not quite. There is one more thing I want. One tiny little thing I need to change about myself.
A moment later it's over and I feel myself falling to the floor, Celeste's hands gone from my shoulders. The flames are no longer embracing me. I don't feel them anymore. Everything seems smaller, more confined, and with a start I remember what my last wish was, the last thing I wanted.
It's a very Pinocchio thing to do, I know, but just because it's corny doesn't make it any less real. To be a normal girl. Or woman, rather. Not a Key, not a ghost, just a normal human being. It's a highly underrated pleasure.
"Dawn?" someone whispers and I feel a hand touching my cheek. A warm hand.
"Buffy?"
I open my eyes and she's there, smiling down at me while tears are in her eyes. Right here, right now, nothing else matters. Buffy sacrificed her life for me and now she's back. I brought her back. Maybe there is some fairness in this world after all. Just a little.
I don't know how long we stay like that. All over the chamber people are back on their feet, looking around in wonder, hugging their friends and loved ones for all they're worth. I see a thousand questions on their faces, but none of them matter right now. I reach up and hug my sister and the rest of the world can just go take a number and wait right now. I'm busy with more important things.
When Buffy and I finally let go of each other Angel is there and all it takes is a single look before the two of them are off in their own world. Part of me wants to groan, but it doesn't quite work with my lips stretched into a broad grin. Buffy and Angel look at each other and Angel is the first to break the silence.
"I thought I'd lost you," he whispers.
A moment later they're in each other's arms and the largest part of me melts into a mushy puddle, even as another part wants to tell them to get a room. I can barely see for the tears in my eyes.
People come over; everybody's hugging everybody else. Tara sweeps me up in the most open display of joy I've ever seen from her. Even Willow's there, no longer sharing identical expressions with Catherine Madison. I didn't want them linked up in that creepy way anymore, so they aren't.
When Angel and Buffy finally come up for air there is a strange look on her face.
"You're heart's beating," I hear Buffy whisper, her hand resting on his chest.
Yep, that one worked, too. Happy rebirthday, big sister! I think this one time we're gonna get our happily ever after. Especially you and Angel. I can't think of two people who deserve it more.
TO BE CONCLUDED
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110 miles north of Los Angeles, October 16, 2017
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I'm not a child.
I'm coming up to my 32nd birthday in a few weeks and I expected that, just like my last dozen or so birthdays, I'd have to celebrate it alone, amidst a crowd of friends and family who neither see nor remember me, who have forgotten that a girl called Dawn Summers ever existed.
Only it won't happen that way this year. All my friends and family lie dead here, all of them except Faith. Just when they started noticing me again they were taken away. I know why it had to happen; I know it was our only hope of saving the world as we know it. But still ... whose idea of a cruel joke was it to give me back my sister (and thereby my own existence, it seems), only to take her away again but a few days later, but minutes after I finally recognized her? Does someone up there think this is funny?
I cried, Faith cried, and I don't think either of us has any tears left now. We lost everything down here, gave it all up for a world that doesn't give a shit. Life's not fair, I've known that for a long time, but this is pushing things, really, really pushing things. It's as if the world goes out of its way to hand the good guys all the shit they can handle and more, just to stay true to that old cliché about the easy roads leading to Hell.
And now Celeste tells me that it isn't over, that there is something left to do. Something that I have to do. What can I do? I'm an apocalyptic one- shot, that's me! I had my chance to bring about the end of the world when Glory tried to sacrifice me and it caused the death of my sister. Never before or after has this whole Key-thing done anything for me. No funky powers, no visions or celestial knowledge, nothing. So what am I supposed to do now? Maybe pick up a sword and kill Faith and myself for good measure? That would fit into the trend here.
She's smiling at me. What does she have to smile about?
"Remember when Cordelia told you about Glory?" Celeste asks me. "Remember when she told you what she really intended to do and how you fit into it?"
Cordelia? You mean the woman lying dead about thirty feet over there? The one who died in this battle you got us into? I wonder why I don't say any of that out loud. Maybe spending over a decade as a ghost has robbed me of the talent to be direct.
"She said I was a key to power," I remember her words. "Some kind of tool for harnessing energy."
Celeste nods. "Glory's world, the one she ruled like a god, also had a Torch, Dawn. Every world has one, or every world that is part of this cruel game the Powers That Be and the First Evil are playing. In Glory's world she created a Key, you, in order to harness that power. Only she lost it all when her world came up as the prize in the latest round of the game and she was banished here along with you."
Great! So I'm a tool to harness the power of a world that was ... what? Destroyed? Turned into Hell? Remade into a cold and sterile place of perfect order? Just peachy! That will look good on my résumé.
Faith is looking at Celeste with narrowed eyes, anger, sadness, and weariness mixing together into the kind of explosive cocktail that has sent her off the deep end more than once. Does she know something I don't?
"You can fix this," Faith suddenly jumps at Celeste. "I know who you are! You can fix this! You have the power!"
She knows who Celeste is? "Faith? What are you talking about? How can anyone fix ...?"
Faith grabs Celeste and pulls her close until they are nose to nose, giving her a glare that would make plants whither and die. Celeste doesn't even blink.
"I figured it out," she forces out between clenched teeth. "When you used my voice to scare off those two big-wigs! You only did this all for yourself, didn't you? It was all to ensure that you survived, nothing else."
I'm still missing something here, ain't I?
"She is the Torch, Dawnie," Faith says, guessing my thoughts. "She is the prize they all fought for, the big teddy bear at the stand. And she didn't want to go home with either of the fuckers who played, because either way it would have ended up with her royally screwed."
She is the Torch? I look back and forth between her and that giant pillar of flame behind us. I can feel the power churning inside it, no wonder everyone wanted it. But Celeste? How can she...?
"She is right, Dawn," Celeste says calmly. "I knew this world was coming up in the game. I knew I had to do something. If the Powers That Be had won I would have been snuffed like a candle. If the First Evil had won I'd have gone out in one final blaze of power that would have blanketed the world. Either way I'd have been dead."
She gives me a look that, for the first time, makes her appear like the young girl she pretends to be. "I didn't want to die," she whispers.
I almost stagger back as a memory forces itself to the forefront of my mind. A fake memory, I know that, but that doesn't make it any less powerful. It was twenty years ago, give or take, and I had only just found out that my big sister was sneaking out every night to do this cool superhero stuff she did. I followed her to the Sunnydale High school library that night and was right there to hear Giles tell her that she was destined to die fighting the Master.
The look on her face nearly killed me right then and there. I had never seen her so scared. Buffy was supposed to be strong and brave. She wasn't supposed to be scared.
"I don't want to die," she whispered. I didn't want her to die, either.
"But it's okay that we all die for you, right?" Faith snarls at her, wrenching me back to the present. "Think everyone else can bite the big one because you're just fine? Well think again, kid! You've got all this power stored up there, enough power to turn an entire world into Hell. Use it for something good for a change! Bring my friends back!"
Can she do that? What am I saying, of course she can. This Torch thing is supposed to be what gave life to all the demons and vampires, made all the myths and stuff real. It can give life, can't it? It can bring them all back.
"I can't do that," Celeste says, shattering all my hopes in a heartbeat.
"Bullshit!" Faith tightens her grip on the girl.
"Don't you think if I could have done something like that I would have done it sooner?" Celeste asks her. "It took all I had, all the strings I could pull, just to give myself this mortal form. It took an impossible event to make an impossible child, a loophole I could slip through. I am the Torch, but my power is for everyone else to wield, never myself.
"I shouldn't even be here. I shouldn't be self-aware." She turns to look at me. "It's only through your sister that I am, Dawn. When she died the first time, when she fell into my flames as Master Nest unleashed me, her spirit was so strong and fierce that it resonated within me. It awoke something, something that was never meant to wake. The Powers and the First couldn't see me because the very thought of a Torch becoming something more than a simple chalice of power is so ludicrous it would never occur to them."
I feel fresh tears rolling down my cheeks. I didn't know I had any left.
"So it's over?" I ask her, begging for her to tell me I'm wrong. "They're all gone?"
Then, suddenly, she smiles again. "Not quite yet, Dawn. Not quite yet. Again, remember what Cordelia said about what you are?"
I'm confused for a moment, but then it hits me. I'm the Key, a tool created to harness the power of the Torch. Sure, the power of the Torch from another world, but still ...
"You mean I can ... can I? But how? I ... I don't even have the slightest clue where to start. How can I do it? Can I bring them back? How? You have to tell me how!"
Faith finally lets go of her, a tiny ember of hope in her eyes. Can I do this? Do I have the power ... well no, I don't have the power, but I can access the power. Can I? I don't know. How does one go about bringing roughly six hundred dead people back to life? Is it even possible? A terrible thing suddenly occurs to me.
"They won't be ...," I begin, uncertain how to voice my thoughts. "They won't be like this, this thing, right? That thing that thought it was Buffy until Diana, I mean Buffy, told it that it wasn't and it reverted to type? They won't be like that, won't they?"
Celeste shakes her head. "No, Dawn. Creatures like the Buffy double, or Giles and Darla for that matter, are created under very specific circumstances. We are going to do something different, you and I."
"But how ...?"
She shushes me and a moment later her hands are resting on my shoulders. A warm feeling spreads through me, as if I'm lying next to a fireplace in a comfy living room. A shiver of delight travels up my spine and a gasp escapes my lips as I feel it:
Power! So much power! I felt the barest glimpse of it on the day this Doc creature used me to open up Glory's portal (or what we thought was a portal then), but now it's different. I'm standing right here and the thing I was created for is right here as well. I can feel it burning, the heat of a thousand suns dancing in the tips of its flames. So much power, so many possibilities.
I see the strands that reach into the flames, so many thoughts and dreams. A billion and more people reaching out without knowing, touching the Torch to draw inspiration from it even as the Torch gives life to their dreams in turn. I see a world alive with the power of magic, the sparkle in a child's eye as it listens to a story about knights and dragons. I feel myself covered in fur as I run through the forest with a pack of werewolves and taste blood in my mouth as a vampire drinks from a dying victim. The wind rushes beneath my wings as a dragon takes flight in Romania and I shudder with delight as an apprentice sorcerer in England manages to make a feather fly with but a flick of his wand.
It's all here, all that power, right at my fingertips. I was made for this, made to reach into these flames and wield them as I see fit. No, not as I see fit. I was made as a tool, someone else's will was supposed to guide me. I was never meant to do it by myself, that's why I never felt anything. A gun can't pull it's own trigger. It needs someone else to do it. A smile is on my lips. Just like Celeste, just like the Torch, I was never meant to be like this. Aware, alive, given my own will. But I am. And there is but one thing I want to do with this power. Only one thing I really want.
I don't know how I do what I do. I could no more explain it than a human being could explain how it makes its heart beat. It's just something you do, something so ingrained into what you are that it can't be put into words. God, how did I ever stop doing it? How come I never felt all this power just under my feet in all these years? Right now I don't really care. I breathe deeply and the power flows out from the Torch, the flames embracing me, and I release it into the giant chamber around me.
The world changes because I want it to. Magic, quantum theory, who gives a damn how it really works? I want, therefore it happens. I open my eyes and I see the lights. Souls, hundreds of souls. They are still here, none of them have departed. The brightest is the one Faith still cradles in her left hand, almost forgotten now. Angel's soul, torn out by his own hand, it's so bright. Another soul is right there, circling around it like a moon to a world, and I don't even have to guess to know who that is.
The power flows outward from me like a thousand small fingers, caressing the flesh of cooling bodies, brushing across wounds that have killed. But I don't want them to be lethal, so they aren't. Flesh mends back together, blood regenerates at speeds that would make a Slayer green with envy. Avoiding the bodies of the demons isn't even a strain. They feel different, cold, unreal. Constructs of the Torch, I remind myself. Real only because we believed in them. I don't believe in them right now. I only believe that my friends and family should be alive again and so they are.
Just one demon rises from its own ashes, dust reforming into a human shape even as a golden light flies from Faith's hand and merges back into its chest. But no, that isn't quite right, and it takes but a single thought to adjust it. To make it right once and for all.
A gasp from hundreds of throats, air pumping back into lungs that are no longer still, blood pounding through veins that already started to wither. Hearts beating, synapses firing, eyes opening to take in the miracle that is happening right here. The elation that floods through me is almost too much to bear. I have done this. I am doing this. All this power and it's all mine. There is nothing I can't do. Nothing I can't accomplish. It's almost like I'm ...
My thoughts are going off in a direction I don't like when Buffy rises from the dead (for the third time, too) and looks directly at me. It's all it takes. She is my sister, my mother, my anchor in this world. I look at her and I know that I have everything I need, everything I want. No, not quite. There is one more thing I want. One tiny little thing I need to change about myself.
A moment later it's over and I feel myself falling to the floor, Celeste's hands gone from my shoulders. The flames are no longer embracing me. I don't feel them anymore. Everything seems smaller, more confined, and with a start I remember what my last wish was, the last thing I wanted.
It's a very Pinocchio thing to do, I know, but just because it's corny doesn't make it any less real. To be a normal girl. Or woman, rather. Not a Key, not a ghost, just a normal human being. It's a highly underrated pleasure.
"Dawn?" someone whispers and I feel a hand touching my cheek. A warm hand.
"Buffy?"
I open my eyes and she's there, smiling down at me while tears are in her eyes. Right here, right now, nothing else matters. Buffy sacrificed her life for me and now she's back. I brought her back. Maybe there is some fairness in this world after all. Just a little.
I don't know how long we stay like that. All over the chamber people are back on their feet, looking around in wonder, hugging their friends and loved ones for all they're worth. I see a thousand questions on their faces, but none of them matter right now. I reach up and hug my sister and the rest of the world can just go take a number and wait right now. I'm busy with more important things.
When Buffy and I finally let go of each other Angel is there and all it takes is a single look before the two of them are off in their own world. Part of me wants to groan, but it doesn't quite work with my lips stretched into a broad grin. Buffy and Angel look at each other and Angel is the first to break the silence.
"I thought I'd lost you," he whispers.
A moment later they're in each other's arms and the largest part of me melts into a mushy puddle, even as another part wants to tell them to get a room. I can barely see for the tears in my eyes.
People come over; everybody's hugging everybody else. Tara sweeps me up in the most open display of joy I've ever seen from her. Even Willow's there, no longer sharing identical expressions with Catherine Madison. I didn't want them linked up in that creepy way anymore, so they aren't.
When Angel and Buffy finally come up for air there is a strange look on her face.
"You're heart's beating," I hear Buffy whisper, her hand resting on his chest.
Yep, that one worked, too. Happy rebirthday, big sister! I think this one time we're gonna get our happily ever after. Especially you and Angel. I can't think of two people who deserve it more.
TO BE CONCLUDED
