A/N: I seriously apologize for the wonky innuendo at the end. It was late, I was tired, and that's what happened.
Buffy couldn't say that she knew how he felt, because she quite simply didn't. She'd never had a child of her own. The closest she'd come was Dawn, and though she'd loved her sister dearly, she was able to let her go. Probably because she understood what it meant. She knew that Dawn was in Heaven, watching her and waiting. And that she was safe. Even the hurt she felt at her death could be soothed by that knowledge.
Angel didn't have that. Buffy knew of no way to convey the utter sense of peace Connor must now have. The beautiful contentment, and the joy, and the love. She suspected that to truly understand, one must have been there themselves.
His warm tears fell against her bare chest. She stroked his hair and did her best to comfort her in any way she could, but she had no way to tell him what he really needed to know. She'd known that Angel had loved his son. More so because he'd never thought it possible. And now he was gone.
The tears stopped. She could feel his wracking sobs lessen and then stop altogether, aside from the occasional hitching breath. He sat up and wiped at the tear stains on his face. "Thank you," he said earnestly to her.
She smiled softly, confused. What did he have to thank her for? Five hundred years in hell and losing his soul. That was about it.
He stood up and looked out the window. The sky was cornflower blue, and the storm had passed. "There has to be a way to bring him back. To bring them all back."
A fearful churning began in Buffy's stomach. It knotted up her insides and crept up her throat feeling like bile. It tasted of hypocrisy. "Angel, no."
"Why not?" he said angrily. Self-righteously. She couldn't make him understand. It probably wasn't even possible. Neither of them were witches. They couldn't do magick. And there was probably nothing left on this Earth that could bring them back at all.
But her treacherous heart leapt. She could...she could have them back. Maybe. But how could she do that to her friends? How could she do the same thing to them? She'd...after she'd been resurrected, she'd wanted to die again. More than anything. She'd just wanted that peace. Was she really the kind of monster who would inflict that on the ones she loved most?
"Because I couldn't do that to my friends. I couldn't do that to you, or to me. The guilt, Angel. I wouldn't be able to live with myself, knowing what I'd taken from them. It would be selfish. If you'd stop...stop thinking about yourself, you'd realize that." She winced even as she said the last words, knowing that they would hurt him. She hadn't wanted to say it, but really, it was true.
Angel's face ran through a mixture of emotions. Anger. Incredulity. Amazement. Righteous indignation. His face turned a shade redder. Buffy had to stop herself from cringing. She'd seen Angel in all his rage, and it wasn't pretty. Strangely enough, even as Angelus, his full rage hadn't ever been directed at her. And she hated the thought that now, when she was right, he would get angry with her. And...maybe even leave her. She readied herself for a verbal pummeling.
But instead, she found herself enveloped in his warm embrace. Tears were once again streaming down his face, and he clutched her to him like she was the only thing to keep him from drowning in his own tears. "You're right," he gasped into her shoulder. "It just...he was my son, Buffy. My own flesh-and-blood. And he's gone now. They all are...But you're right. If Heaven is even half of what you say it is, then even if I could, I wouldn't bring them back."
"I'm sorry, my Angel."
***
The next day, they got together duffel bags they found in the closet. They stuffed them full of everything they thought they would need for their journey. Food, clothes, first aid supplies, even some games. Buffy was sorry to be leaving the T.V. behind, and Angel would miss the ice cream. The previous residents had had good taste in it.
When they'd scavenged everything useful from that house, they moved to the one next door. They hadn't been able to find any first aid cream, and they wanted to pick up anything they'd missed.
Then, they set out. All their apprehension had been wiped out. They were together. They were strong. They would do what was expected of them, and then they would do more. The sun had set on the old, and was rising in the east on the new.
They attempted to leave their grief behind them. Lock it away in the place where they'd first realized their loss. Whether or not they had been successful remained to be seen.
Their friends were gone. Their family, their co-workers, their support. All of them were dead. But they were alive. In order to stay that way, they needed to accept that and move on.
They hadn't gone more than eight or nine miles when they stopped the next night. They were now in a different part of the city. When night fell, they broke into the best house they could find. Their compunctions about taking other people's things had long ago been left behind.
Despite their efforts, the best place they could find was a rather dilapidated pea-green house with weeds growing in the yard and crooked shutters. They'd found their way into what had been the bad part of town. Of course, there weren't any people left to make it that way, so they were just as safe as they could be. But the atmosphere was still reminiscent of its former days, when gangs roamed the streets and doors were locked at all times. The buildings themselves seemed to remember their occupants, and when they broke the lock on the door, the whole house creaked around them as if objecting to their very presence.
Buffy shuddered and took Angel's hand. Not as reassurance against the dark things of the night, but to remind herself that she was not alone. That he had not left her while she had been distracted.
A shape moved in the shadows. Buffy jumped, and then flashed Angel a nervous smile when he looked down at her. "Nothing. Probably a cat or something."
There was a single, dirty bed in the farthest corner of the house. The sheets were filthy, and the bed itself looked like it was about to fall apart. Instead of sleeping on it, Buffy and Angel opted for using the blankets they'd brought with them. "After all, sleeping on the floor is good for your spine."
"Try and remember that tomorrow morning. Or tonight at midnight when you still haven't gone to sleep." Angel gave her a wry grin. She scoffed.
At midnight, she was still awake. Not so much because of discomfort, though that was bad enough, but nervousness. She was jumpy. That and the fact that her brain refused to shut down. Thoughts kept chasing themselves through her brain, and she couldn't seem to quiet them. Thoughts about the future. Thoughts about the past. Her mind conjured up a horrible image of her friends burning and dying. She pushed it away, preferring to live in ignorance. She didn't need to know exactly what had happened, and she didn't want to.
She shifted on her side, trying not to wake Angel. He had gone out like a light the moment they laid down. She supposed it was only natural. They had been walking all day. At one point, they'd tried to break into a car and drive, but the alarm had gone off, and they'd abandoned that idea.
Though she didn't want to wake him, she couldn't help but reach out to touch his forehead, and brushed her hand along his cheek. He was so beautiful in the moonlight. But even more so in the sunlight. He just seemed to soak it up, like it was pure joy, as cliche as that was.
"Buffy?" he asked sleepily. Oh crap.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up." She hadn't moved her hand from its position on his face.
"'S alright. What's wrong? Nightmares?" His chocolate eyes turned to her in concern.
She shook her head. "No. I was just...I was just making sure you were still there." She looked away and blushed. It had been a long time since she'd felt like blushing. Somehow, Angel made her feel like a silly little school girl again. And at the same time, he made her feel so immensely powerful and strong.
He turned his head to kiss her knuckles. A shiver ran through her. "I know. I keep...I keep thinking that this is some kind of weird dream. Like a nightmare and a fantasy rolled all into one. On the one hand, I'm human again. And we're together. But on the other hand, everyone we knew and loved is dead. And once again, we have to save the world." He pressed her hand to his cheek. "If it helps any, I am still here, and I don't plan on going anywhere."
She smiled. Weakly, albeit, but still a smile. "Thank you for that." She nuzzled against his neck, and he curled around her instinctively. His newfound body heat cocooned her, and the whirlwind of thoughts in her head settled down. "Love you," she murmured sleepily. She drifted off in the cradle of his arms.
He kissed her on the top of her head. "Love you, too."
***
The next day, they were on the move again. The quickest way to the refuge was cross-country from there, and hijacking a car at this point would be useless.
The day's walk was long and hard, but at dusk, they had come to the outskirts of the city. The foothills rolled away and up into mountains. From one of them, Buffy stood and looked out over the town, and beyond that, the ocean. The sun was setting blood red in the west, staining the sea as it went.
Angel came to stand beside her. She sighed overdramatically. "Goodbye, civilization. How I will miss you. Warm bed at night. Easy access to food. Roof over my head. Let's just face it: I'm not an outdoorsy kind of girl." She leaned against him.
A smile crossed his face and danced in his eyes. "What am I going to do with you, Buffy?"
"I don't know. Something really, really good. Right?" She batted her eyes at him, and her hand moved up his thigh.
"One can only hope." He said, his voice higher pitched than normal. She kissed him. When they parted, the sun had gone done, leaving only spills of red and orange in the darkening sky.
"We should probably get some sleep. We've got a long ways to go." She gestured towards the panoramic view of mountains rising against a starry backdrop.
Angel swallowed his lust. She led him back to where they'd rolled their blankets out on the hill. To his surprise, where there had been two, there was now only one, with both sets of blankets. Buffy stripped down to her underwear and lay down on the blankets. "Aren't you coming to bed, Angel?"
He smirked. Maybe he shouldn't have been so quick to assume that bed meant sleep...
***
The next few days passed in the same way. Angel got up at sunrise nearly every day, just to see it and know that he wouldn't burst into flames the moment the rays touched his skin. Buffy preferred to sleep for at least a couple more hours, being of the more sane variety of person.
And every day, they walked. Further and further into the mountains---and away from civilization. The wilderness was surprisingly refreshing. Mostly because it didn't give off the eerie feeling of the world put on pause. The animals went about their business as always, and the only strange thing was that they occasionally came to a place where all the foliage had been burned away in a large circle. They avoided those places.
Buffy was beginning to wonder how long this would take. They'd been traveling for a week, and as far as she could tell, there were still no sign of people.
But they were making progress. They'd spotted a very prominent pass in the mountains, and were heading towards it. Since they hadn't been given very specific directions, they assumed that the valley would be easy to find. The trees were thinning out, as was the air. They were gaining altitude now, and the pass was close at hand.
Angel thought that they'd make it through within the next few days. Which was very good, in Buffy's mind. She'd never been dirtier in her entire life. There was dirt in her hair, in her nails, ingrained in her skin. She hadn't had much of a chance to bathe, except in the occasional stream. Her hair was suffering, though she kept it as well groomed as she could. And she swore that Angel always managed to find the one spot with the most rocks for them to sleep on.
Not that the refuge would be much better. But it was progress. And once they had gotten the people there organized, they could head to L.A., where Buffy was sure she could find hot and cold running water, and a bed sans rocks.