Author's Note: I'm making one little change in Angel canon here, as he and his group never took over Wolfram & Hart. The law firm was never restored after the Beast totaled it and Lilah never returned from the dead.

Also, it has been brought to my attention (many thanks to Stoa) that I have apparently made a mistake with Dark Angel canon in saying that Max and her siblings were brought to term in incubators. Apparently they did have real-life mothers, but were separated from them the moment they came to term. I must have missed that episode. Anyway, since this is an AU anyway I take the liberty of changing that piece of canon. Max and her siblings were brought to term in incubators, no mothers involved.

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Part 2: Anniversary

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It had become something of a tradition for them, one that they shared with quite a few other people. There probably wasn't a single living person in America today who hadn't lost someone on that terrible day ten years ago. All over the States people came together to mourn their friends and loved ones, to think of all the people who had lost their lives during the Pulse.

It was no different for this group of weary warriors and so they came together from whatever corners of the world they were currently busy in, gathering to remember those they had lost and pray for the strength to carry on in their name.

Faith stood in front of the full-length mirror and studied herself, trying to see the girl she had once been in the tired woman facing her. Thirty-six wasn't exactly retirement age, at least not for a normal person. It had been a long time since she had been anything even remotely normal. And in her line of work she definitely counted as old.

Her sharp hearing had no trouble making out the people arriving downstairs. Had it really been ten years already? Ten years with a gathering such as this every September? She knew she had to go downstairs soon and greet the others. She had never intended it, but she was something of a leader to this group, no matter that she considered herself completely unsuited for the role. Angel and Wes did the best they could, but sometimes only a Slayer would do to lead a group of Slayers into battle. A Slayer such as her.

She glanced over to the desk in the corner of her room, a piece of paper and a pen lying there. It was another tradition of sorts. She didn't know why she had started it, but every year on the anniversary of the Pulse she wrote a letter. A letter that would never be sent anywhere, seeing as those to whom it was addressed were far out of reach of the American mail service, what there was of it these days.

Sighing, she went over and grabbed the pen.

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Hi guys!

It's been another year already, can you believe it? They say time flies when you have fun, in which case I really can't understand why things seem to be moving so fast. It's been some time since we've had some fun down here, let me tell you that. Well, this isn't supposed to be a moping exercise, so I'll quit that right now.

To bring you up to date on things, Robin and me are still going strong, thank God for small favors. I honestly don't know whether I could have lasted as long as I have without him. He keeps me from taking myself too seriously and, as he sometimes calls it, helps me reign in my inner bitch. What did I ever do to deserve a guy like that? Don't answer that, I don't want to spoil a good thing!

As for the others, well, Angel is Angel. Being immortal and all you can't really expect him to change all that much within the span of a year, or even ten years. He can still brood with the best of them, but sometimes you can see one of those small half-smiles on his face and it's like Christmas. It's strange that he doesn't age, still looks exactly like he did the day I first met him. A girl could grow self-conscious around him. But I'm glad to have him around and don't worry, I'll keep my promise and look out for him just as he looks out for the others and me. We're family. We have each other's backs.

Wes hasn't changed much, either. When he isn't busy digging through ancient texts and spell-books in the hopes of solving our still-persistent big problem he comes along on patrol. The guy's past fifty now, but he can still kick ass with the best of them. For a human that is. I can see him starting to slow down, though. Twenty years of battling the undead has taken its toll on him and soon he'll have to bow out of the active part of slaying. I just hope he can handle it when the time comes. I hope he doesn't wait too long.

We're seeing less and less of Gunn these days. LA is one of those cities that weathered the Pulse and its aftermath better than others, but there are still a lot of homeless kids out on the streets and more than enough predators, and not just of the undead kind. We're still working together on cases here in LA, but he doesn't get involved in the national or international stuff anymore. His kids need him, he says, so he stays. I can understand him.

Speaking of the kids, well, we lost another one since my last letter. Diana died, overwhelmed by a group of vampires in Boston. I should have been with her, seeing as it was in my old stomping grounds, but there was this big demon in Texas and that was the greater threat. We destroyed the demon, but lost Diana. It doesn't really get any easier, no matter how often it happens.

The rest of the gang is in good shape. Fred has published another paper, big surprise, and it's getting to the point where the cash from her patents is keeping us free of financial problems all by itself, no further work from any of us needed. She says it's the least she can do, seeing as she hasn't got the whole Slayer power going to help us out. She's made great strides with the whole self-confidence thing, but sometimes I still get the impression she'd like nothing better than to go and hide in a cave somewhere.

Lorne has redecorated Caritas again, can you believe it? The business is doing great and the amount of gossip going through that place is incredible, has helped us out more times than I can count. Angel has gotten a lot better at the whole singing thing, too. A few nights ago he managed Mandy without anyone bolting from the room or bleeding from the ears. Definite improvement.

I miss you guys so much. I wish you were here, because half the time I haven't got the slightest idea what I'm doing. I could really use your help. I often wonder how it was that, for so many centuries, a single Slayer managed to keep the world in one piece all by herself. Either the job has gotten harder or the Slayers have gotten weaker. I hope it's the former, but seeing that all us Slayers are well past thirty now I guess it's a bit of the latter, too.

Don't get any strange ideas about coming back, though, you hear me? No matter how much we miss you guys, you deserve your rest. I have no doubt that each and every single one of you has earned their place in heaven and that's where you're gonna stay, otherwise I'm gonna kick your asses so bad you'll run crying back up to the angels.

Stay happy, guys! Stay safe!

Love,

Faith!

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Putting the letter into the same drawer were the previous eight letters rested, Faith got up and made her way downstairs to the others. The lobby of the Hyperion was decorated with candles and soft music was coming from hidden speakers. About two dozen people were present, all of them looking up and offering a smile when they saw her arrive.

Faith's eyes made a quick sweep of the room, coming to rest on the photographs put on display on the table in the corner. The pictures of their absent friends. For a long moment she remained standing there on the steps, simply studying the photos. A bit like Angel, she mused, unchanged by time. She'd never see what any of them would look like in their thirties, they were eternally young. Well, except Giles, but he'd always looked pretty spry for his age.

Someone put a hand on her shoulder and she came out of her thoughts to lock eyes with her husband.

"Come on," Robin told her, lightly squeezing her hand. "The others are waiting."

He didn't ask her whether she was okay, which she was eternally thankful for. They knew each other inside out after all this time and, like she had written in her letter, Faith was eternally thankful for his presence. Many people had made an impact on her life. Her first Watcher had shown her that she was worth something. Buffy had shown her how to be a Slayer. Richard Wilkins, whose last name she still carried, had shown her a father's love, no matter how rotten a bastard he might have been in all other ways. Angel had shown her how to redeem herself. But Robin had shown her how to live, how to put the whole Slayer stuff aside for a while and simply be a woman in love with a guy. 

She squeezed his hand in turn and together they walked down the remaining stairs, greeting the others. Not for the first time she marveled at this odd collection of people who had become her friends and family. If not for the fact that all of them - some by chance, some by destiny - had become involved in the battle against evil, she doubted she'd be friends with any of them.

Angel, an Irish womanizer turned sadistic vampire turned brooding hero. Robin, son of a Slayer and retired high school principal. Gunn, a former street kid and gang leader. Wesley, who held little to no resemblance to the wimpy Watcher he had once been. Fred, a science nerd who survived five years in a hell dimension. Lorn, a demon bartender and karaoke singer. Amanda, Rona, Violet, Georgia, Alison, and Maliya, once a group of frightened girls looking to be protected from evil, now all Slayers and kicking evil's ass daily.

There were a few other people there Faith wasn't that close with. Amanda's husband Mike. Violet's best friend Henrietta. A few others. Yet in a way they were all family. And they were all here to mourn those members of their extended family who should have been here today, but weren't.

Angel, as the host, was the first to raise his glass and propose a toast.

"To absent friends," he simply said. "To all the people we'll never forget."

Wesley raised his glass. "Rupert," he said.

Amanda followed next. "Dawn."

"Kennedy," Rona toasted.

"Willow," Fred came next.

"Xander," Faith said, looking at the pictures on the table again.

"Buffy," Angel finished, their glasses now clinking together.

Six people, Faith mused. Six people out of thousands who had died that day. Somehow it wasn't fair that no one remembered them as more than part of a statistic. Just another few unlucky souls who had had the misfortune of being on board a plane when the Pulse hit. They had saved the world so many times, but neither themselves nor anyone else could save them when technology failed and sent them to their doom.

It was almost funny, Faith snickered humorlessly. So many demons had tried to wipe them out and in the end it was humanity's own dark arts, technology, which had killed them. A tear came to her eyes. It wasn't fair. But then, who had ever said that life was fair?

She looked around the circle of her friends and family, especially the six other Slayers present. Seven of them altogether, all that was left of the Slayer lineage, and all of them looking worn out and tired. There wasn't a single face below thirty to be found in the room (except Angel's, that was) and most of them looked (and felt) older than they actually were.

The years since the Pulse had been hard on them all. Vampires and demons had had a field day in the chaos and mayhem following the nation-wide failure of all technology. Amidst the widespread panic and breakdown of civil order no one noticed if people vanished by the hundreds, by the thousands. Entire villages, whole counties were wiped out in a matter of days. The vampire population had quadrupled within a year and a large part of the world's existing demonic population had been drawn here to this beautiful feast of fear and suffering.

The Slayers and the team of Angel Investigations had done all they could to stem the tide of supernatural darkness, even though they had still been shaken by their own losses. How many Slayers had they been back then? Faith wasn't sure, but it must have been around sixty or so. Many of them died within that first year, giving their lives to keep the forces of darkness from taking even more advantage of the upheaval than they already had. So many friends lost.

And none to replace them with.

They had already known by that time, of course. Six years prior to the Pulse they had battled the First Evil and won the greatest victory of their lives, closing the Hellmouth forever. A victory that had only been made possible by the activation of all potential Slayers all over the world. Willow had done the deed, had reached deep into he power of the Slayers and given it to all those who had the potential to wield it. Over a hundred Slayers awoke that day and quite a few of them were on hand to help in the battle.

What they only found out about a year or so later was the price they had to pay for that victory. Yes, she remembered, it had been almost exactly a year later, in fact. The day when a random vampire got lucky and killed one of the Slayers.

And no replacement was called.

Their spell had destroyed the lineage. Unintentionally they had done almost exactly what the First Evil had intended to do. Destroy all the potentials, so there could be no new Slayer. Well, they had done away with all the potentials, too, by calling them. New potentials should have been born later on, ones that could inherit the power when one of the present Slayers died. Only they weren't.


Ever since that day in 2003 no new potentials had been born.

And now? Sixteen years later? Seven Slayers were left. Maybe a few more scattered around the world, those they hadn't found or who hadn't been interested in joining the fight against evil. That was it.

Wesley theorized that they had destroyed some kind of balance. That nature was looking to put it right again by preventing new potentials from being born until all but one Slayer were dead and then, only then, would a new potential stand ready to inherit the power of the Slayer. He wasn't certain of that, though. None of them could be certain.

Which meant there was a really good chance that, the moment the last of the current Slayers died, be it in battle or eventually of old age, there would be no more Slayers. The world would be left defenseless.

Ever since that revelation they had researched, tried to find a way out of this predicament. Willow, when she had still been alive, had traveled all over the world, hoping to find a magical way of putting right what she had unintentionally wrought. Giles and Wesley, along with the few other surviving Watchers, had gone through every piece of lore and prophecy ever written down. All for naught.

Once more Faith looked at the tired faces of her fellow Slayers. They were all that was left. The last line of defense this world had. And year after year that line grew smaller. There would always be Angel, of course, an immortal guardian who would do his best to protect the innocents, but in a world such as this he alone simply wasn't enough.

As Faith mingled with the others, as they exchanged stories of their absent friends and remembered all the people they had lost, she did what she always did at these anniversaries. She prayed. Prayed for inspiration. Prayed for strength.

Prayed for a miracle to somehow put things right again.

TO BE CONTINUED