Angel woke with his arms still wrapped around Buffy, and the first thing he could think was that this was familiar. Terrifyingly familiar. Heart-achingly familiar. In fact, any moment now, he should be screaming in pain as his soul deserted him for the third...or was it fourth?...time.

He tensed slightly, praying to the gods that it wouldn't happen again. Not again. How could he have been stupid enough to...No. Wait. He didn't remember what had happened. He didn't know where he was. None of this was familiar in the slightest except...Oh.

He took a shaky breath, hoping that he had finally recovered all his memories. He remembered waking on the beach, breaking into the house, and falling asleep with Buffy in his arms. And he remembered what had come before, the ending of the world and his utter failure. Ouch. Maybe that was a memory he could have done without. Cordelia and Connor, and...

So...they hadn't. His soul was safe. But something else felt...off. He felt a little bit too energized. Like his whole body was in motion. But he wasn't moving at all. Maddening pumping and a sound in his ears that was familiar and yet utterly foreign to him. He was warm, flushed. Blood was rushing around his circulatory system at an alarming speed. This shouldn't be happening. He couldn't understand the steady thumping in his ears, when he was used to only cold silence.

Angel threw the covers off and sat up, suddenly unbearably hot. He looked uncomprehendingly down at his chest, skin flushed with blood. His whole body was tinged with a warm aura. Slowly, he brought one hand to his chest. And nearly fell off the bed.

The steady, sedate thump of his heart sped up in excitement.

His breathing became harsh as he remembered that he actually had to breathe now. Human. He was human. For the third time. His gaze turned towards Buffy and he remembered a different time. A time when he'd been human and things had been looking up. A day when he'd been able to have his perfect happiness again and again.

He looked away. Buffy didn't remember that day. And that was the way it should be. He only hoped that this wouldn't turn out to be a repeat. He didn't think he could...give her up again. He was only so strong. And she looked so innocent and beautiful in her sleep. Perfect. If he was given the chance with her again, he wouldn't be able to give it up, not for anything on Heaven or Earth.

He got up and went downstairs. He didn't understand...anything, really. But he would have to wait and see what would happen now. The world had ended, and by all means, they shouldn't be here. The fact that they were made his mind boggle and he knew that there was a reason for this. Now all they had to do was wait for it to be revealed.

***

Buffy woke with a vague sense of purpose. Like there was something incredibly important that she was supposed to do right away, but she couldn't remember.

She thought for a moment, and then smiled as her memory came back to her. Hmm. Dying three times had to be some kind of record.

***

When she went downstairs, she found Angel sitting in the kitchen, sipping from a mug of steaming coffee. The look on his face was introspective and pleasured. He looked very happy. His eyes were closed, and at first, he didn't seem to notice her. He took another sip from his cup.

"I thought vampires couldn't taste anything but blood." She questioned, alerting him to her presence.

He left his eyes closed. "Oh, they can't." He smelled the coffee with a blissful expression on his face. "But humans can. Hmm. I'd almost forgotten what coffee tasted like."

"You mean---" Buffy tried to contain the joy that rose in her throat. She felt like squealing. Angel...human? It was too good to be true. Too wonderful to actually happen to her.

He opened his eyes. A truly angelic smile crossed his face. "Yeah. I'm human again."

"Oh my god," she breathed, before running over and throwing her arms around his neck. The coffee splashed dangerously in its mug and Angel put it down quickly. He turned to hug her back. "This is...this is so amazing. I can't--You're human!"

She kissed him on the forehead with a barely constrained pleasure. He smiled up at her, feeling her joy like the rays of the sun itself. Come to think of it...He hadn't felt the sun since his venture into Pylea. And that was so long ago...

But a glance out the window showed that it was still raining heavily. The clouds covered the sun.

Buffy followed his gaze, and suddenly sobered. She released him from her grasp and sat down at a chair across from him. "They're all dead, aren't they." She phrased it as a statement of truth, daring him to contradict her. Or pleading with him to.

Angel stared into his coffee. "Yes. At least I think so. Maybe they escaped, or the Powers brought them back..." He looked up into her now hooded hazel eyes. "No. They're dead."

She nodded and bit her lip to stop from crying. It was beginning to tremble uncontrollably, and tears formed at the edges of her eyes. "Now I guess I know why they wanted me back so badly," she choked, her voice harsh. "Oh god. It...it hurts so bad!"

Angel hugged her. He fought back his own sadness. Fred had just begun to live again. And Connor....Cordelia. The thought of her hurt. His betrayal. She'd loved him, and he hadn't been able to love her back the way she deserved. Moot point now, he thought morbidly. Wesley. He hadn't gotten the chance to tell him that he was forgiven. Gunn. Lorne. Willow. Giles. Hell, even Xander. All the people he'd known were dead. All of them. And only he and his forbidden love were allowed to continue in their stead.

"I-I feel so hypocritical." Buffy sobbed. "I want them back so b-badly. Even though I k-know they're happy now. In Heaven." A fresh flood of tears broke loose and she let herself cry, though she wasn't sure whether it was for herself, who'd been cheated for a third time out of her peace, or for her friends, who had it now, at the cost of never seeing them again. "It's...it's not so bad. Heaven is a good place. They're all so h-happy up there."

She bit her lip as a terrifying thought stole into her head. Terrifying, and yet at the same time, so horribly intriguing that she couldn't let it go. "It...it wouldn't be so bad to go there, would it? We escaped by chance and chance alone. And...what sort of life can we live here? Alone, with no human contact. We could...we could go. Go there. And leave this place finally." She looked up at his face with hope. He would tell her that it was all right. He would. And as long as he said that it was okay, that they could...go, it would be fine. Right?

But his face was strangely hard and cold. "If we died, Buffy, I highly doubt that we'd end up in the same places. But feel free to write me a postcard from Heaven." He was so bitter, she thought. So angry. And really, she couldn't blame him. If she knew that she would never, ever find peace, even after death, she would be, too.

"I'm sorry, Angel," she said, finally pulling herself back together. "I didn't mean--"

He cut her off. "And we didn't escape by accident. We were put here on purpose. By the Powers That Be. There's a reason for this, and it's only a matter of time before it's revealed." His lips thinned. "For now, I think we should check on the state of this town. See if anyone at all survived."

A light of hope appeared in Buffy's eyes. "If there are survivors here, then...then they might have made it, right?"

"I wouldn't...I wouldn't count on it, Buffy." God, it hurt to see the light in her eyes go out like that. And to know that he was the one who had stomped on that one faint ember of hope. But it was better this way. At least now she wouldn't be so devastated when they found out that her friends hadn't survived.

"You're right. Of course." She looked down at the rumpled sundress she still wore. "I guess I should go change into something warmer." She gazed out the window. "I wonder if it will rain for forty days and forty nights. A little late for the apocalypse, but still. It's symbolic. Water dousing the fires that destroyed us all..." She gave him a little half smile, and then went on her way, leaving him with too many issues to work out and too little time to do it in.

***

Forty-five minutes later, they were still trudging the abandoned streets, wet and chilled to the bone. And still empty-handed. Buffy tried not to think of the implications. No one had survived, then. It truly had been the end of the world.

It seemed that they'd stumbled onto a medium-sized beach side town. Housing developments as far as the eye could see, mini-marts, and shopping malls. They'd stopped at one, after Angel had insisted they stock up on food. Despite everything, he was still enchanted by the idea of being human again. This time maybe permanently.

Her blonde hair was hanging limp and wet around her face, and her clothes were utterly ruined. But Buffy couldn't help but want to continue the search. Though she was tired and cold, she felt like if she could find one person, just one, then maybe...maybe there were others. It was her job to protect the human race. If there were none left, then she had no purpose. At all. No reason for being. She'd been the Slayer for so long, she didn't think she could remember how to live for herself and herself alone. Let alone be able to do it.

But then they saw the first of the corpses. A charred, ruined creature spread out on the concrete street, reaching forward. The skin had been burned away and the muscles looked like raw beef. Buffy suppressed a shudder. And then the urge to vomit violently in the street when she saw a rat making off with what looked like an eyeball. At least there are still animals, she thought darkly.

Further along, they found more of the same. Some were burned and unrecognizable. Others were untouched by the fire but had been destroyed by the tremendous wounds that had taken their lives. It became more and more concentrated as they went on, and Angel tried time and again to convince Buffy to go back.

But she would not be swayed. Some morbid curiosity stirred in her, and she began to recognize a sort of pattern in the bodies. They were arranged according to something. And though it probably didn't matter now, she wanted to know what.

Finally, they reached the center of the devastation. A clear patch in the street around which the bodies were piled thickly. Buffy stood stock-still and looked out around her. Thousands had died here. An entire town. Just...dead.

"Buffy," Angel was pulling on her sleeve. His attention was focused at a point beyond her shoulder.

She turned and squeaked in dismay. A shadow had fallen over her face. A hideous demon, six feet tall, stood in front of her. He was black, with body armor and a nose ring. His eyes were red, and he had horns. She wondered dimly how she was supposed to fight this thing before it spoke.

"I'm Skip. I'm here to show you your path."