Epilogue

They had helped him home that night. Angel had been too weak from the spell to make it on his own and Willow had been pretty juiced up from the after effects of the spells to sleep. So, she had helped him home and helped settle him in bed.

Looking around the apartment, her eyes had been drawn to the creepy tunnel hatch door. Slowly she walked toward the steel and kneeled down, taking a glance back at Angel. She saw him move to lay on his side and lifted it up. Slowly she moved step by step down the rungs to the damp, musky tunnel. Reaching the end, she walked slowly until she found a corner and turned it.

There on the wall hung the remains of Marc Loid.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The putrid smell of decay filled her nostrils. Bile rose in her throat and she felt the overwhelming urge to heave it out of her body. But her throat burrowed it back into her system and she took a few deep breathes to keep it in check.

It was over.

After torturous months of fear and hiding, this had been the end result.

Even knowing that the horrid sight in front of her wasn't an act of movie magic nor an illusion, she still didn't feel the closure she had hoped for. But maybe that was the point. Did everyone have trouble with closure when it came to stalkers and murder? Did anyone ever get over that kind of fear?

The words echoed in her head as if someone where there to tell her.

Yes. But in time. Nothing happens over night.

She sighed one last time before gingerly reaching above herself and pulling at the chains wrapped around the body's wrists and neck.

This was the slayers job. She'd seen her do it on more than one occasion. And here she was, taking over her duty. But not by right, but by choice.

The body slung over and rested on her shoulder, almost overwhelming her with its weight. The bile from before once again rose and she had the instinctive response to swallow it once again.

This had been the murderer. He had killed tons of witches, not to mention Jonathon and Tara. He had tried to kill her. And here she was, carrying him to a sewage grate where she could hall him from and bury his remains.

The since of victory wasn't being felt by her.

But that's what she did. She carted his body up to the surface and dragged him to the park area. Under one of the large oak trees she used her powers to dig a shallow hole and dropped the body into it. The intention wasn't for rest. He didn't deserve it. No, the purpose was to leave the body out of sight. Dogs or police would find it soon enough, but she wanted it free from sight. Free from her sight; from people's sight.

Leaving the body lightly covered, Willow moved to the sewer cover, sliding it over as she entered down into the entrance. She took the tunnels back to the apartment and entered through the hatch-grate.

The place was exactly how she'd left it; nothing had been moved and Angel hadn't woken yet. She looked herslef over and felt disgusted. Her clothing was covered in ash and blood and her hands were caked in dirt and blood. She slowly dragged herself into the bathroom and shut the door, starting the shower. The steam rose as she started to remove her clothes, being careful of the aches and pains from the previous day. Throwing the clothes to the ground, she was overcome with a snort.

"So much for new clothes," she muttered, kicking the last of it to the side. "Stains like that just stay with you."

Easing herself over the tub, she sighed into the steam as the harsh water hit her body. Her hands quickly made work at scrubbing herb body of the dirt and grime associated with the stains. She found herself having a hard time getting all the blood off until she realized the problem.

It wasn't dry blood.

Somewhere in the process of ridding herself of the grime, she'd scratched herself. She moved her arm under the sprays and resisted the urge to pull her arm back. The sting was unbearable. But at the same time, she couldn't help but want it to never stop. The pain would be temporary. She knew that. But without the pain, she felt hallow. It made herself feel real.

Before she realized it, tears were coming down her cheeks. She sobbed as she rubbed the salt pearls from her face.

Such strength and courage, it wasn't her forte. Buffy was the slayer. She was nothing more that the slayerette. The wannabe. The one that wished for the power but never achieved it.

But in the situation, the Slayer was absent and she was forced to take haste. And that had scared her. But if someone had been hurt. She hadn't looked at the plan from every angle. She could have gotten Cordelia or Wesley either hurt or killed.

She ran her hands over her shoulders.

She could have been hurt or killed.

Her fingers searched for the marks that were no longer visible.

She could have been killed because of carelessness.

She grasped at the shower tile and tilted her head back. The water was amazing. Her sobs were subsiding and it was as if all of it was going right down the drain with the water. She turned the facet off and pushed away the curtain to grab at a towel. She began to dry herself off and wrapped the towel around her, keeping it around her tightly as she made her way for the bedroom. She glanced at Angel only once before shutting her door and beginning to change. Something small, she grabbed a night shirt and curled up under the soft covers. Her eyes closed only once before she fell swiftly into sleep, everything yet to do put off until tomorrow.

She had woken to giggling and was startled by it. Not only had she been in a deep sleep, but she'd known she was still in LA. It was then odd to her for her to hear giggling.

Softly her bare feet padded across the wooden floor, opening her door just the slightest bit.

She hadn't been crazy. She could still hear the soft giggle that was distinctively female. Slowly she exited the room, softly gliding across the floor and into the living area. She could see the two figures in the kitchen at the table. She was surprised by the wisp of short blonde hair she noticed as she hugged the corner. Her eyes met with Angel's and he had a genuine smile on his face. He raised a finger at the girl and stood to make his way over to Willow. The blonde turned in curiosity and she saw that the blonde hair was none other than Buffy's.

"Hey." He pushed her back a little into the hallway. "You're awake."

"Yeah."

"You slept the last two days away." She looked at him like he was crazy. "Yeah, Wesley said it may have been the after effects of the spell, like a serious burn out." She shook her head in confusion.

"That's crazy." She looked up at him. "You've talked to Cordelia and Wesley?"

"Yeah, and I don't know how I can thank you." She smiled down at her and for some reason she couldn't feel one of her own. She forced one forth instead. "I mean, Wesley explained to me that you used the ambrosia to keep my soul permanently anchored." Again that smile. "I just don't know where to begin."

"Really Angel, it's no big–"

"Sure it is! I mean Willow, I can be happy! And there's only one person I could possibly want to spend it with." She glowed a little. It surprised her but made her feel better. She had, after all, fallen absolutely in love with him over the past couple months.

"Really."

"Yeah. And now Buffy and I can finally be truly happy." Her smile fell for only a second before she recovered and replaced the false one back to her lips.

"Wow. That's great." She swallowed again. It seemed that bile hadn't fully gone yet.

"Wills, you okay?" He touched her cheek which had begun to pale.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She took a breath and smiled again. "I think I'm just nauseous from the after effects."

"Well, if there's anything I can get for you..."

A new heart maybe.

Her mind left that right where it was and instead she shook her head.

"I'll be okay." She moved to go back into the bedroom and he stopped her.

"Don't go back yet, I want you to see Buffy." He pulled her with him into the kitchen. She smiled at Buffy when she met eyes with her. But something seemed different. Looking at her, it didn't seem like either of them felt comfortable.

"Hey Wills." The look in her eyes. Did she know?

"Hey." There was an uncomfortable silence.

"So Buffy and I were just talking about you." Angel seemed like he was eager to make some kind of noise. Something Willow wasn't used to.

"Really? How so?"

"Well, you can go home now. Since it's safe now." Buffy paused before continuing. "I mean, Wesley said that you had, or Angelus had... you know, and so we figured you'd be anxious to get back there. Back to college." She nodded. Why did this feel so uncomfortable?

"Yeah, I guess I could. I hadn't really thought about it all that much."

"I'll bet with all the curses and things you've been up to this week." She just didn't seem to feel that connection. That bond she had felt with Buffy even the first day they met.

"What about you?"

"I think I'm going to transfer. UCLA. I mean, it's not LA's got a shortage of evil and I could always commute to Sunnydale every now and then. Plus mom's there. And so are you guys." She smiled at her an awkward smile.

"Sounds like you guys have everything planned out."

"Yeah." The uncomfortable silence settled once again and Willow sighed.

"Well I think I'm going to get packing. I want to get back to things as quickly as possible." She gave a weak smile and headed back to her room. The only difference was, she wasn't going to be doing quite as much packing as crying.

Tossing the last of her bags into the trunk, she heaved it closed and turned back to the group. There they were. The three people she'd gotten so attached to. She moved to Cordelia and hugged her.

"Remember you've always got a place in Sunnydale." Cordelia seemed to snort at that and they separated, looking at each other.

"Isn't that my line?" Willow shrugged at her.

"Then what's my line?"

"I'll keep in touch." Willow gave a faint smile.

"I'll do that." Her attention then drew to Wesley who was waiting standing patiently, swinging on his heels. She smiled at him and moved in for a hug. The two held each other tightly for a moment before he spoke.

"You're still the most powerful wicca I've ever known." She laughed lightly and rolled her eyes.

"And you're pretty much the coolest rouge demon hunter I've ever known." He smiled at her and wiped at his eyes.

"Allergies." Cordelia bumped into his waist and snorted at him. He gave her a look which she rose her eyes to. "Oh yes, right." He put his hand into his pocket and pulled a stone from it. It was the crystal fathom. "Cordelia and I agreed you were probably the best hands to have this." He handed it to her.

"Thanks." She placed it in her palm and it flashed a small glow. She pushed it into her pocket and turned her attention back to the last man in front of her. His face was etched by the moonlight, like it usually was, but the twinkle in his eyes was different and she knew she had herself to thank for that.

"Don't hurt yourself." He smiled at her wicked smile.

"What do you mean?"

"Well with all the sex you're going to having. Don't' break a hip or something. I hear you're pretty old." He smiled at her.

"Yeah but this old guy is pretty spry." She laughed.

"I've noticed." The wits were being wasted and both knew it. Neither wanted her to leave but both knew she had to. Buffy was the one he loved. Always had. He had no reason not to be with her. And the sooner the two had realized that, the easier it had been for Willow to pack her things and ready herself to go back.

So here she was, packed and ready, giving herself her last chance to pull out.

The two hugged and held on a second longer than either thought they should. Neither realizing that they both were feeling the same. Both smiles fake, they exchanged nods as they pulled away and he followed her to her door. She climbed in and he closed the door after her. The window was already down.

"Be careful."

"Didn't you hear Wesley. I'm a damn powerful wicca. I got nothing to worry about."

"You'll call when you get there?" She smiled at him.

"You've really got to stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Worrying. You're not forcing yourself to be unhappy anymore. So stop trying to harbor your soul. It's grounded." He smiled down at her.

"Yeah, who asked for that?" She smiled back.

"You never had to ask." Silence became awkward once again and she moved to start up the engine. "Well, here I go." He stepped away from the window and she prayed to every deity she'd every learned about. Make her stay. Make her not leave.

But instead he moved back to were Cordelia and Wesley stood, watching her. She turned on her lights and began her way out. Halfway down the street she looked into her mirror. There stood Cordelia and Wesley. She'd know he wouldn't be there. No reflection. But that site mirrored her inner thoughts.

He was gone.

For good.

From her.