Even as he watched his son and the woman he loved make love, his mind was only on one thing. Strangely, that thing was Buffy. The apocalypse was here. It was raining fire. He'd failed to stop the end of the world. And now everyone would pay for it.
He wondered if she was still alive. If the fire had reached Sunnydale yet. She wouldn't know. She'd have no idea. He wondered if she would be scared, though he knew in his heart that she wouldn't. She would take it in stride, she would hold those she loved close as she watched the sky crash down around her.
His mind briefly touched on the thought that she might have stopped it. If he hadn't been so caught up in his little love triangle with Cordy, then he might have thought of that. But with his fate reflected in the eyes of death, true death, it seemed all so trivial. In hindsight, his path should've been clear.
But he had been blinded. Cordelia, with her stunning smile and her sparkling personality had distracted him like a pretty piece of jewelry. But her lure had mostly been in what she could make him forget, not what she could give him. She had had the potential to help him wipe Buffy from his memory.
Now, it seemed like he had been so stupid. As he watched Connor move within her, her hands curling in his hair, it was all so clear. So crystal...He had been so stupid. And now it was too late.
He just wished...He wanted to see her again. Not to touch, or even to speak to, just to see her. Just to know that she was okay. That she was getting along with her boyfriend, if she had one. That she was happy. Even if in a few hours, she would be dead. Actually, that wasn't true. She might already be dead. Fire might be raining down on her head, burning down her house, killing her slowly.
The thought made him flinch and wonder how much time he had left. The city was burning. The end was beginning. Over two hundred years of existence, and now it was to end. And him with only one regret. Still, it wasn't as if he wasn't ready to go. He hadn't expected it, but he was ready. After realizing that he had been fooling himself when he thought he could ever love another, he was ready to die. If he had failed in his duty to save the world, then he deserved to die.
Buffy would die. And this time there would be no one left to bring her bad. Fred would die, and Gunn. He hoped they'd managed to work out their differences. Lorne would die, if he wasn't already dead. And Wes, whom he'd finally forgiven, would die.
"It's not too late." Angel nearly jumped out of his skin when the voice came from behind him. There weren't many people who could do that. Spike could. And, well, so could Buffy.
She cocked her head to the side, and a river of her blonde hair. Her hazel eyes stared up at him, clear and unafraid. Even in the face of death, she had no fear. Which made sense, since she'd already died twice.
He didn't know what to say. Or even where to start. Words were insufficient. So he just studied her, the casual way she had cocked her hip, the way her hair seemed to form a halo around her face. She was even more beautiful than he remembered her. Even against the backdrop of the burning sky.
"Hello, lover." He remembered the words well, but this time they held no menace. Softly spoken, with a hint of sadness. Resignation.
"Buffy? Why are you..."
"Here? End of the world and all, I figured I should at least show up." Blood still poured from his wounds, and suddenly, he realized that he looked like crap. And all the old feelings of being insufficient welled up again. It had been ages since he'd wondered if he was worth it. Well, no, that wasn't true. He wondered that every day. But when he thought about it then, he wondered if he was worth it in the cosmic scheme of things. Not if he was good enough to lick the dirt off this angel's shoes. Which he was pretty sure he wasn't.
It had been so long since he had been with her. Since he had been able to hold her against the things that came in the night, the ones that had nothing to do with demons or the end of the world. Normal, human things. And now that he looked at her again, she was more aged looking than she had been before. There were the beginnings of lines around her eyes, and even the look in them reminded him of someone who'd seen too much.
He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling dizzy. And then he staggered. A hand brought to his neck revealed that he had lost copious amounts of blood. And the rate of blood loss wasn't slowing down anytime soon.
"Buffy..." he trailed off. His thoughts were growing fuzzy, and losing their coherency. He couldn't remember if Buffy was real or just a figment of his imagination. And through it all the fire fell from the sky and burned, burned, burned...
He started towards her in slow steps and limps, trying to hold himself together. He had wanted to see her one last time, but now he realized that it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. He had to touch, to hold. He staggered and fell.
But instead of hitting the rough concrete like he had expected, he was caught by her small hands and strong frame. Slowly, he lifted his head to stare into her eyes. "What happened to you?" she asked, her tone steeped in concern.
He didn't have the heart to answer her. He simply sagged to the ground, and she followed him. His legs crumpled against his body, he laid his head against her breast. He didn't have to think anymore. He didn't have to watch anymore. He could just...be. For the first time in a very long time, he felt both defenseless and safe.
Instinctively, her hands came up to stroke his hair. "I tried, Buffy. I tried so hard. But it wasn't enough..." He collapsed, and unbidden tears rose to his eyes. It was okay to cry here.
"I know, baby. I know." She held him, and together, they watched the world end. The fire grew thicker. Screams were finally heard to waft up through the air to them. Fire rained down beside them, narrowly missing them.
Angel turned his face up to her. He had one more thing to say. "I love you, Buffy. Always." He was crying now, shaking his head as tears ran down his face. "I never stopped. Never. There was never anyone I ever loved before you, nor after. Please believe me," he sobbed.
She pressed kisses to his cheeks and to his eyelids, to his brow. "I know. And I've always loved you, baby. Ever since I saw you. I still do. God, Angel, I love you so much it hurts." Her kisses became more ferocious as fire filled their view. Nothing existed but the flame and them. And the pressed together, almost one, as their world ended, and through the pain as they died. And when Angel's body turned to ash, Buffy held his remains in her hands, until she too, was consumed.
***
The world had ended. The fertile valleys of California, the desert landscapes of the Sahara, the snowy mountains of Tibet, the jungles of South America, all had been torched. Life was not easily found. The world was a wasteland. Few things had survived, almost all of them animal or plant. All was barren, and across the land, no sound was heard but the blowing of the wind across the waves and the earth.
Above, though, the Powers That Be met in a conference. Nothing that had been had surprised them, and nothing that would be. The fate of the world had been cast long before. And they knew what they had to do. The world would start anew, would rise from the ashes, beginning with their champion vampire and his Slayer.