Buffy froze. There was no way that this vicious looking demon was a messenger for the Powers. Just no way.

"I know what you're thinking," he said in his deep, gravelly, and not just a little bit disconcerting voice. "I'm a demon sent straight from hell to kill you by pretending to be your friend." He smiled, which was distinctively creepy on such a face. "The only thing I can say to you is--I'm not. Whistler was busy doing damage control, so they sent me instead."

Buffy's mouth opened. Once, twice. But she couldn't seem to think of something to say. Finally, Angel filled in for her. "I think I know of you. Cordelia said something about a demon named Skip guiding her."

Buffy looked at him. Then she looked back at Skip. She deflated. "All right. I'll believe you. For now." She studied the ground at his feet for a moment. "So what's this about showing us our paths?"

Skip smiled. Now he was in his element. "Ah, yes." He began to walk. They followed him, stepping over charred corpses and ruined bodies. "Awful, isn't it?" He said, gesturing at the graveyard that stretched away around them.

Buffy's lips thinned. There was no need to answer. Her green eyes scanned the horizon. It was drizzling now, and the sun peeked from behind its shroud of clouds. "And yet, this isn't the end. The world didn't actually end. The people in it died. But the world still goes on."

Suddenly, they were away from the wreckage. Walking on a beach where the foamy sea coughed up bits of still living kelp. A crab scuttled along the shore, and somewhere a seagull lent its harsh cry to the sound of waves. "So does life. Look around you. This world is anything but dead. That's where you two come in." Buffy looked cynically at Angel, who shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Believe it or not, there are still humans left alive." Buffy didn't dare to hope. Instead, she reached out and grasped Angel's hand to her tightly.

Skip looked at her with what could have been a sorrowful look. "Not your friends, kiddo. I'm sorry. But there are others. Others that need your guidance." Angel risked a glance sideways, half afraid that he would find a hoard of people begging for their leadership. To his relief there was nothing but open sand.

Buffy's head was down, and she was staring at the ground. So they were dead then. She bit her lip until it bled to keep from screaming. Her friends...Xander, loyal, determined, brave Xander. Willow. Giles. He was her father...Anya. Spike...God, Spike had just begun to heal. He could've done so much good...

She refused to cry. She'd already done that. She'd had her time to mourn, and now her time wasn't even her own anymore. It still belonged to the world. She'd been brought back by the Powers this time. To help create the new world. And for once, she was grateful for her purpose, her duty, her calling. Her reason for being. One that she could never doubt.

Watery, determined green eyes looked up. "Tell us what we have to do."

***

After they had finished talking, they found themselves back in the house they had claimed as theirs. Skip had told them that they needed time to adjust. Angel was human, and, well, they hadn't even seen each other in at least a year. Hadn't worked together for longer than that.

This town was, as they had initially suspected, deserted. Everyone in it had been killed. There were still a few small demons that lurked around, picking flesh from the dead when night fell, but nothing that would be dangerous to either of them.

Once they felt they were ready, they were to leave. Head northeast until they reached a small valley. The survivors of the surrounding areas had managed to find their way there and were now lost and confused. Most of them hadn't even believed in demons, or that it was even possible for the world to end. Everything had fallen in on their heads and someone would have to pick up the pieces.

When they had banded that group together, they were to wait for the Oracles to return in L.A. Though the originals had been killed, the Powers had appointed new ones. They had their work cut out for them

***

Buffy had been elated to see that the television still worked. She didn't understand how or why, but she spent her time watching cartoons while Angel ran through as much food as he could find. "You're gonna make yourself sick!" she called, between mouthfuls of ice cream.

Angel reappeared from the kitchen, pizza in one hand and sandwich in the other. "Don't really care. I can taste again!" he said with his mouth full.


Buffy rolled her eyes. But the corners of her mouth twitched to see Angel so happy. She couldn't remember him ever being so enthusiastic. So...happy. Dorky. It was good to see him finally come out of his broody little shell.

She patted the couch next to her. "Sit. But leave the pizza." It had anchovies on it. And pineapple. And mushrooms. The very thought was making her sick.

Angel took a moment to shove the rest of the piece into his mouth before sitting down next to her. She smiled and leaned against him, her head on his shoulder.

He looked somewhat startled. It had been awhile since someone had been so openly affectionate with him. Buffy was the only one. Jerkily, he brought one arm around to rest on her shoulders. She smiled up at him and he relaxed.

He found it oddly appropriate that she was snuggling closer to him. When he was a vampire, he'd always relied on her for warmth. His own personal sun. But now, he finally had a chance to pay her back at least somewhat.

He pulled her more tightly against him. He could feel each breath enter his lungs and was conscious of the way she shifted to listen to his heart. He was human now. He had a chance with her.

Buffy was still watching the television avidly, eating ice cream from the carton. Angel found that he was more interested in her than the TV.

She must have noticed the weight of his gaze, because she looked up at him, meeting his stare. Wordlessly, she put the ice cream aside. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and then she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him. Sweet and slow and perfect, the way it had always been meant to be.

Their eyes met afterwards. "Buffy, we can't--" Angel began.

"Why not?" Though she sounded like a pouting child, the question was valid. Angel's automatic response to her advance was...just that. He'd gotten so used to saying no, he hadn't even thought of why for so long that he'd forgotten. He opened his mouth to answer. But he came up with nothing.

His silence was taken as encouragement. Buffy rested her forehead against his. "Angel, there's no reason we can't do this. Not unless you don't want to. You heard what Skip said. We've got a new duty now. One that will allow us to be together."

But only if you want to, Angel. I don't...I know we've spent a long time apart. I know about Cordelia. And you know about Spike. But if you've moved on...Please, just tell me." She'd pulled her head back, suddenly not sure where their boundaries lay.

Angel looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her back to him. "I never moved on. I love you, Buffy. Forever." He whispered into her ear, his lips so close they brushed against her skin as he spoke. She shivered.

A small smile crossed her face. She swung herself around and straddled Angel's lap. "Glad we got that cleared up, then." She moved in for a kiss.

They didn't leave the couch for a very, very long time.

***

Buffy was wearing Angel's leather duster. And nothing else. She was cuddled against his nude form with only the duster to shield her.

He kissed the top of her head. "There's no one outside to see you, you know."

"I know. It just feels weird to be naked when there's that door open there." She gestured to where the shattered remains of the door hung limply in the hinges.

He kissed the top of her head again. One of his hands was laced with hers at their side. "How are we supposed to know when to leave?" He asked.

He felt her lithe shoulders shrug against him. "I don't know. And really, I don't even want to think about it. Too much at one time." She smiled at the last and turned around to kiss him again.

He shuddered as her body dragged sensually against his. She was so warm and alive. He felt privileged to finally be able to offer her more of the same. His own heartbeat had long ago stopped distracting him, but he stopped for a moment to listen to it anyway.

Sensing his thoughts, Buffy laid her head against his chest. Just listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat.

"I love you, Angel."

Suddenly, a thought struck Angel. He could...Now that he was human, he and Buffy could live out normal in its truest sense. He could have children...

And then, he remembered. Like a bucket of cold ice water dumped on his head. Connor in his little bassinet. Connor swaddled in blankets. Connor sucking his thumb. Connor clutching Angel's finger so hard that he had to be the son of a vampire. Connor...

Buffy stopped when she realized that Angel wasn't kissing her back. She pulled back to stare into his eyes. Confused hazel met horrified brown.

Brusquely, he pushed her away and leapt up off the couch. Without looking back, he went up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms, slamming the door behind him.

He didn't look up when Buffy knocked on the door. She was insistent; the knocking became louder and more agitated. He didn't even hear it through the noise of his own thoughts.

Outside, Buffy through courtesy to the wind and slammed the door open, ready to be very, very angry. Only to find her lover curled up in a fetal position on the bed.

Her rage quieted itself, and she sat down on the bed next to him. Gingerly, she put one hand on his back. This time, it was his turn to lean heavily against her.

"Why did you leave like that?" she asked quietly, half-afraid of the answer. A sudden thought came to her, and she stiffened when she remembered waking alone after losing her virginity.

"I'm sorry," came the muffled answer.

"You're forgiven," she said, rubbing her hand in soothing circles on his back. "But why?"

He turned his face up to her. "My son is dead, Buffy. Connor is dead."