Escape
Chapter Two: Momento Mori

She found him sitting in the dark in his office, slumped in a chair, fist curled under his chin, photo clutched in one hand. She pulled her jacket tighter around her with one hand and smoothed the pyjama pants that had been lent to her by Fred.

"You know," she said softly. "I think Fred loaned her entire pyjama wardrobe away."

He looked up at Buffy and attempted a smile that dissolved almost as soon as it crossed his face. She took another step into the office.

"Do you want me to go?" she asked. "It's just… I couldn't sleep, I remember you didn't really sleep at this time of night either," there was no response and she slid into the chair and leaned forward over the desk. "Angel? Angel, are you ok?"

"She died," he said hoarsely.

"What?" she asked, frowning.

She saw him reach toward her and click on the lamp. Light flooded over the desk and highlighted his face. He didn't meet her eyes, just gazed down at the photo before pushing it toward her. She glanced at him before picking up the photo and looking at it.

"I was pleased to see you," he went on as she stared at the picture. "And I wanted to talk, but… right now, things aren't great."

"Cordelia…" she breathed, fingers clenching on the photo of Cordy, Angel and Wesley. "She…"

"There was a… thing. She went into a coma. After I got back from Sunnydale, Wes called me and I was there… I didn't want to say anything in front of the guys. Especially Xander, he looked kinda…"

"I know," Buffy nodded, still staring at the picture. She looked up. "I'm so sorry. I know you were close."

He avoided her eyes. He couldn't go there. Not with Buffy, he couldn't even say her name. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't get it. He would always love Buffy, looking at her now, he remembered what those early Sunnydale years had been like. And he hadn't thought anyone else would ever - could ever - take her place. And Cordy hadn't taken her place, far from it. But somewhere along the line, Cordy had created her own place, had snuck into his heart and gave it jumpstart. And now…

"What happened?" he asked her, pushing away from a sire subject. "In Sunnydale," he attempted another smile. "Dawn mentioned something about a crater."

"Yeah," she answered, placing the photo on the desk deliberately. "That's all that's left now. We wiped an entire town off the map and changed the world."

"Changed the world?"

"Oh, yeah. That scythe I had? Well, turns out that it had all this mystical Slayer power and Willow did a spell. Is that the right word? It's kinda small," he smiled a genuine smile then, as she rambled along a Buffy tangent. "Anyway, this spell, changed the whole Slayer thing forever. Now, every Potential Slayer is a Slayer."

"Well, that would explain why all those girls were facing me down earlier."

"They'd just killed a whole bunch of Uber-Vamps. They were pretty much ready for anything."

"So Faith's staying at the hospital with some of the girls?"

"Yeah. She's fine though. She wanted to stick around to make sure Robin was ok. That's Principal Wood, he hired me as counsellor at the new Sunnydale High, which, for the record, didn't last even half as long as the first one did after I started. His mom was a Slayer in the 70s. I think he and Faith have a thing. An actual thing."

"Good for her," Angel said. "It's good that something… good has come out of the this. Buffy? What's wrong?"

"That's only one good thing, Angel," she whispered. "We lost so many of the girls. And friends. Xander's… girlfriend, Anya, she was killed. And the worst of it was that they'd already been through so much. I guess you noticed the eye-patch, right?" he nodded and she nodded too, with a grim smile. "My fault."

"Buffy, don't be -"

"No, Angel. It really was my fault. I didn't move fast enough. There was this freaky preacher guy working for the First. And I was so scared that I couldn't move. And when I did, too late. And when he was in the hospital, I couldn't even face him. And now, I still can't look at him without thinking that all of this is my fault."

"Buffy, you can't be everything to everyone," Angel told her. "Just because you're the Slayer, doesn't mean you don't get scared. I bet Xander doesn't blame you."

"Y'know, I keep telling myself that," she said with a bitter laugh. "But sometimes I think he looks at me like if he'd never met me… Hell, listen to me. I can't even take the blame for something without turning it into a pity party. God, maybe Spike was right when he said I never let anyone close."

"Spike?" Angel repeated, feeling a stab in his stomach that he had felt when Buffy told him about her and Spike. "Uh, where is he? I haven't seen him. Did he go somewhere else?"

"No…" she tailed off, sniffing. "He, uh, he died."

"What?" Angel said, leaning forward. "He…?"

"The amulet didn't do anything and then it started hurting him. Next thing you know, there's this weird light and the whole place is coming down. We all left and he couldn't. It was the amulet that destroyed Sunnydale. And Spike… went down with the ship. He died a Hero, Angel. Whatever you felt about him, whatever anyone felt about him, he could have run away. But he didn't, he stayed to finish it. He died a hero. A champion."

Angel gulped hard.

He was already wondering what the hell he was doing. Watching Cordy fade away, watching the others break down, God that had been hard. But he hadn't done a thing. He stood for an hour after the others had left him and gripped her hand, staring at her.

Because he just couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that Cordy was… gone. Not beautiful, bright, warm Cordelia.

He didn't want to believe it.

If that had been hard, hearing Buffy call Spike a Champion was more than he could bear. Which was probably selfish, because he had had feelings for Cordy. But it was the way Buffy said it, the look on her face as she said it.

The last time he had heard that tone of voice and seen that expression, was when she had eyes only for him.

"So, that's Buffy, huh?" Fred asked, leaning against the linen closet door.

"Yes," Wes answered. "That would be Miss Summers."

"What do you think happened in Sunnydale? I mean, it must have been major, right? For them all to come here."

"Most apocalypses are, Fred," he replied with a smile. "Though I daresay this was rather larger than usual. I suppose we'll find out the details tomorrow. Buffy's probably telling him right now."

"Do you…" she tailed off, nibbling her lip and shooting a glance at the row of doors.

"They'll be asleep," he assured her gently, desperately hoping she would continue, a pathetic need for her to confide in him welling inside his chest. "What were you going to say?"

"Do you…" she turned her gaze away from the doors and met his eyes. "Do you think people died?"

He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. He remembered Xander, the shuffling way he walked, the complete hopelessness that seemed to weigh on him. Loss etched into every line a young man of his age shouldn't have.

"Yes," he said softly. "Yes, I do think some people died. But I'm sure they died heroes."

"You think that's a consolation?" she asked, head tilting to one side.

"No," he shook his head. "Dying a hero makes absolutely no difference. You might say it does, but it doesn't change the fact that they're gone. So, no, Fred. It's no consolation at all."

"I thought you'd say that," she whispered, fingers inching toward his. "And I'm kinda glad, because if you said it would be easier, I'd have to wish that Cordy died a hero. And it's way too late for that. But it would still hurt like this, wouldn't it? And you know what? It kinda scares me."

She took a deep gulp, letting out a breath that made her whole body shudder. He hesitated, before lacing his fingers through hers and pulling her a little closer as she fought tears.

"I know exactly what you mean," he murmured.