Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction based on the television series of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the Series. The lowdown; if you recognize him or her, chancer are that they belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, et all. Including Faith...but since he doesn't seem to want her any more, may I please have her..? Dean and the rest of the characters you don't recognize are, however, an original creation.
Thanks: to any and all who even took a minute to read the title and open this file.
Reviews, Kudos, Flames, propositions to be betareaders (Hey! it's a free world.)
And now, on with the show
Aftermath
At first, there was Life; sunrise, day, beginning. But as with everything, it has to be balanced out; Yin and Yang, Good and Evil. Therefore, at last there was Death; sunset, night, end.
People say a lot of things about Death: Death is the final chapter of life. Death is not the end, only the beginning. Both Babylonians and Assyrians thought a great deal about death; they revered it, attempted to understand it, but in the end, Death eluded them as it eluded the Arabians, Egyptians and Jews; Greeks, Romans and Macedonians; Huns, Germans, English, French and Spaniards, and also Americans.
In my line of work, you have to study them all, philosophies, doctrines, cults and all. I especially liked the Greeks, because for all their lack of hygiene and penchant for hyperbolic drama always revolving around incest or sex or war, or incest, sex, AND war (Which, coincidentally, twenty centuries in the future would come back in the form of soap operas and bite us in the ass), the Greeks were smart. Not smart enough to know they shouldn't have screwed up with the Romans, but that's neither here, nor there.
I read an inscription once in one of those old watches that Foster seems to have thru his house (snotty bastard likes to refer to it as "Estate") and it was in latin, but Foster explained to me that the original idea was from the greek:
Vulnerant omnes, ultima necat; Each one hurt, the last one kills.
They were the only ones who kind of got an agreement with ol' Shroud and sickle; They got a brief glimpse of the reality of Death, underneath the rotten visage and black shroud:
Mors nihil est; Ipsaque omnis moriar; Death is the end of everything, even Death itself.
They were the ones who became the Roman and Macedonian "Culture",
See, they understood the concept of Death because they understood that it was linked with Time, and Eternity; The end of one day doesn't mean the end of the world.
But then again, they thought that the world was the center of the universe, and that it was flat like a board, so what do they know, right..?
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The sword came down with unmatched speed, and Angel immediately withdrew it from his now dead enemy´s head, taking bits and pieces of bone and brain with it, ready to swing again.
By his side, Spike was fighting with everything he had in him, as it had always been. Fists and fangs and feet and swords and God knew what else.
"Looks like you get your wish, Spike."
"Why's that, Peaches..?"
A grunt and the same motion of withdrawing the sword and hacking away at yet another demon was followed along with an exasperated sigh.
"You're going the way you always wanted, fighting 'till the bitter end. You always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory...right..?"
If possible, Spikes attacks got wilder, savager, a roaring and laughter fused on the same breath the he didn't needed to exhale but helped him focus on the carnage.
"Just couldn´t let that blaze bit go by, could ya Angel..?"
"Call me Peaches, pay the price." Angel replied easily, and smiled at him; a "We´re comrades in arms" smile, the one everyone has for situations such as an all out war, and the certainty that thing are looking bad bad, and this may be it.
"Besides, I think this is a good way to go, burning in a blaze of glory..." Another crack and suddenly, from out of nowhere, Angel retrieved a battle axe, wielding it in a vicious circle overhead and splintering another demon's chest before driving it firmly between yet another demon's eyes.
"Yeah, let's show this ponces how its done...Not fade away..." Spike added, taking the axe from the demon´s forehead, spluttering brains and blood and goo all around and hacking away at anything in sight, chests, arms, hands, fingers, head...
"Charlie-boy is already down, and they've driven a wedge between us and Illyria." Spike said matter-of-factly. And then his attacks began to resemble those of a blood-crazed, piss-drunk, English Hooligan.
"Yeah, they're gonna try and separate us both too to be easier to attack from all sides."
"Never thought I'd go with you fighting by my side, Angel."
"Neither did I, Spike. But I can't go, not yet; I made a promise."
"Listen Peaches..." Spike began, getting immediately angry and showing it by ripping the spine out of a demon through his face and using it as a whip of sorts. "If you so much as go near Buffy, I'm gonna kill you, cut your..."
"I was talking about the Dragon..." Angel cut him curtly.
"Oh." It amazed Angel how Spike was able to look contrite in the middle of dislodging some demon's arm and hitting him with it as if it were a club. "Carry on then..."
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Although all of the great religions state that God created Men, as it turns out, psychologists hold for a fact that it was vice-versa; The concept of Life and Death was so entwined in itself, so inexorably melted like an alloy, that a sort of solace had to be found.
Enter religion and heaven; for what god is for a man to live his whole life abiding by the concepts of righteousness and morality and good and respect thy neighbor if at the end he doesn't see a long-lasting reward..? Catholics, and Protestants both sold their particular vision of paradise, as Greeks did with the Elysian fields. Muslims also have their own version of Heaven, as well as Shinto and Buddhists. Generally speaking..? Everything's white and golden, brimming with peace and quiet, although just for the fact of the girls alone, I'd go with the Muslim's version.
Now, that's a bitching version of Eden.
Me..? my vision of heaven consists of endless shots of Jack, Tequila and Beer, a never ending pack of Marlboro 27 or Lucky Strikes as well as a Zippo that always work. And never worrying about that unpleasant alcohol poisoning or lung cancer.
Or beer gut.
I remembered once some asked me how I wanted to check out. Considering my situation it was a really funny question. Too bad that the guy who asked that wanted to prove a point by killing me. He talked big, but when it came down to it, a simple snap of his neck and he was out, no endurance whatsoever. Still, that question got me thinking, and I decided right then and there, after I had down a couple of shots from my good friend Mr Daniel´s, and dealt with the remaining 3 punks that were the aforementioned loser´s "posse" (I mean they were only 4 guys, and besides, who uses that word, "posse", really...) that I wanted to be found dead with a bottle of Jack on one hand (Later I changed it to whatever the hell was at hand, too many close calls with Mr. Reaper does tend to put foolish things such as parting wishes in perspective) a lit cigarette on my mouth and a pack of smokes on the other.
Nice way to live by, and a hell of a way to go if you ask me.
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The closest thing to compare this to was an ocean, a force of nature, disastrous; a potent sign with unparalleled strength.
Legions, upon legions, upon legions of demons of all shapes and sizes, some clad in rudimentary battle armor, some just walking around in their scaly or furry nakedness was all the eye could see. Some walking like homo erectus. Others limping, as if the very concept of walking was something newly introduced to them. And still others slinking on all fours.
And then the rain began to fall.
From what could only be described as a mountain of corpses three figures began to claw their way out. Hair and clothes all damp with blood and entrails, guts and something more.
The one with pale blue eyes, Illyria was the first one to finally claw out her way from beneath.
"If you thought that an old one can die that easily..." She said as she took of bits and pieces of demon from her outfit, as if it were lint. "Then you are either more stupid than what you normally look like, or you mistake me for a demon of lower capacity which will make you even more stupid that I gave you credit for..."
The remaining hundreds of thousands of demons snarled as an answer, and lifted their different weapon clad arms as one, ready to let go another wave of endless battles. From behind Illyria, both Angel and Spike made their way from underneath a pile of corpses, staggering, bloody and battered, but still standing.
"Yeah..." Spike began leaning on an enormous battle ax to steady himself. "You ponces think you can go toe to toe with the biggest, baddest, evil that ever eviled..?"
Angel simply stood as straight as he could manage, panting for breath not because he needed to, just as a reflex due to the sheer volume of energy they had all invested in the past hours hacking and slashing left and right.
Illyria turned to look at both vampires, a slight smirk forming on her lips. "I must say vampires, you put a lot of these pure breed to shame. It has been an honor sharing this battle field with you..."
Spike let out a snort of a laughter. "Don't go all soft on me now, luv. After we end this, I'm buying the next round of drinks..."
Angel himself allowed a small laugh to escape from within him. "If I had my doubts of this being an apocalypse there's my sign, Spike offering to buy drinks..."
And for a brief moment all three, the old demon from days past, the Victorian vampire who was a poet, and who for the love of a girl, a slayer none the less, went into a quest to get his soul, and the original Vampire with a soul, Champion and warrior of the helpless, forgot that their lives were at stake.
And then they saw the huge Dragon swooping downwards towards them, and the rest of the legions coming at them, and everything, every sound, every purpose, every thought began to fade away.
Only the roar of the battle remained.
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In order to cheat Death, humans would go to the biggest extremes. They will celebrate it as another chapter in life, or they'll tell you that he or she had transcended into a different plane of reality.
If you ask me, its like this: two ships are at the docks, one is sailing away, the passengers are all praying for good fortune and Godspeed. The other ship has reached it's destination. Who do you think is more at peace..?
I guess the answer is one of those glass half full crap. It all goes down to what someone values more; the journey or the destination.
But the truth of the matter is I'm not too keen on death; I'm high on life...but if I have to go, I would never have it any other way than battling for my life against a legion of Monsters.
It's amazing how the nearness of death can open up your feelings, make everything shine with a new light. The lights are brighter, the sounds sharper, you can feel your blood as it pumps thru your whole body, your brain...
Come to think of it, it feels a lot like a hangover.
But I guess that as with any hangover the rush goes down and people go back to their normal everyday life, you wake up, do stuff, work to make a living, drive around to go places, take a bath and fall to sleep.
But every once in a while something tugs at you; something that feels small and unimportant, but that its there none the less; like a rip in your shirt, or a neck bone itching to be cracked. And just like that it starts to get bigger and bigger, and then it swallows you whole.
Like the shark from "Jaws".
And then you find yourself in the dreaded two way wedge. You only have two choices;, you don´t like them and that when it hits you; there are no good or bad decision in that precise moment of space and time; it all comes down to one thing, something I once read, something I'm telling you...
Evens. Fifty-fifty. Two to one. People like to think destiny doesn't exist when things go their way. But once the going starts to get rough, the blame it all on fate.
The sad thing is we can scheme and prepare all we want, but once the chips are down, when it comes down to it, we're all at the mercy of chance, destiny and fate.
And to accept that, you just gotta have a little faith.
-------------------
The brunette stood up watching the tombs, feeling the air caress her long brown hair. Besides her inside the shadow of a car another brunette and a blond waited patiently. One by one, the rest of the guests began to arrived. The small red head. The one eyed man and the tall young woman with the glowing brown locks. Last but not least, the older fatherly-type, still with the same glasses, and still cleaning them when he was found at loss of words.
As soon as the sun went down, both males got out of the car and went towards the gathering.
"Hey..." Angel said tiredly to Faith who turned around and yelped of joy, giving him a hug, as well as Spike.
"Hey you...how are you holding up..?"
Spike laughed bitterly at that. "Seems like every time we get close, the whole world is about to end."
Angel turned to look at Spike but said nothing. Instead another male joined the conversation. "I knew you two had a thing for each other, all the unresolved sexual tension..."
Angel and Spike let out a sigh and turned to greet the newcomer.
"Xander..."
"Whelp..."
"Deadboy, Junior..." He said with a smile on his lips. "I came here just because we were going to do a wake for all that had left us."
"Yes, quite alright, Xander. It is also fitting that all of those fallen in battle have a decent memorial..."
"Giles..." Angel said simply, nodding at him. Spike turned around alarmed.
"Is he here..?"
"Who's he..?" Giles asked feigning innocence.
"Don't play dumb Rupes...is your good for nothing nitwit junior watcher hanging around..?"
"Oh...Andrew...No I thought this was a very solemn occasion and that only the ones who had been at the very beginning and at the very bitter end should come."
"Hey guys..." Willow said as a hello, waving at everyone. She stopped and looked around, sighing. "So guess this is us all, huh..?"
"Yeah..." Dawn said. "Buffy was...occupied, said she couldn't make it, and to tell everyone hi, so...Hi..." She finished lamely, trying to not look at both vampires.
Giles looked at them both, too, and then at the tombstones. Fred and Gunn he remembered from what Faith, Willow and Andrew had told him. He smiled at that memory, and had to accept that both fitted them perfectly. Gunn's was simple and direct. Fred was more elaborate and delicate.
"I never knew Fred's name to be Winifred..." He mumbled.
That's when he saw them.
Three simple tombstones, separated but still close each one with only one name and a date.
Doyle.
Cordelia.
Wesley.
It was at that moment that it hit Giles. Buffy and himself had managed to stand up to the first evil and leave alive because of Spike and his willingness to sacrifice himself. Whereas Angel and the rest had decided to fight evil from within, and then the fought to the death the lackeys and demons the others had thrown at them.
Carefully he withdrew the cloth from inside his jacket and began to clean his glasses.
"Let's begin shall we..?"
At that moment everyone grabbed hands and bowed their heads low, accompanying Giles and the words that he was reciting, words that he had known by heart.
"Each one of us will name each one of the fallen, and we pray the for the rest of their souls, the end of their journey, and the eternal shining of their stars..."
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I watched them from afar. Next to me was Whistler, also just looking in silence. I had a past with almost half of the convention there, and slipping past them wasn't easy even when I was downwind.
Whistler had introduced me to Faith, and we were currently partners in crime but she insisted on coming here alone, saying it wads her past, not mine. So I did the sensible thing.
I came behind her back.
Doyle, Cordy, Wes, Gunn, Fred. They left in the exact same order they arrived, talk about ironic
Doyle, was an old drinking buddy, and once came with the cheerleader to impress her. We were on a pub and after a couple of pints, began to swap stories and techniques, tricks of the trade.
I had encountered the original fang gang once, when tall dark and with a forehead, as Spike often refereed to him, he was going on his dark, gritty phase and canned them all.
Fred was OK, I saw her once, or twice, and she was the type to follow around when there was nothing better to do. Girl also had a backbone, but for the most part was your average bookish type.
That was on Angel's side. Sunnydale was a completely different mess.
Foster had told me about Rupert Giles, and once, when Giles came looking for one of those old forgotten books which were always best forgotten had stayed for tea.
Typical Englishmen, turned out they were close once.
Willow reminded me of Fred, or maybe it was Fred who reminded me of Willow. I still can't decide which way. And then there was the other witch, Tara. Both were a force to be recognized, but when Tara died, a piece of Willow died then.
Xander remembered Anya. He is probably the only normal guy that can say that every girl he's either been in love, slept, or just plain been with is part demon. Take your pick;
Anya; well, that one is just too damn easy...
Faith and Buffy; Slayers, demonic origin of powers.
Cordelia; half demon to accept the foresight burden.
Willow; Once you're hell bent on destroying the world in the name of a hell goddess and become a living furnace of demonic energy, you've got some demon in your system.
And Dawn, she remembered her Mom.
I watched from afar just wondering how a group of people could go everyday and give their all and then come back and remember their fallen ones.
And part of me wondered if I would be remembered like that when my time came.
Faith would probably cry in the privacy of her own bedroom, clutching a pillow close to her and doing those heart wrenching sobs that kill me whenever I hear her late at night cry for all the screw-ups she has made.
But I know that eventually she would move on. I don't blame her, that's her way of being and that what got me hooked on her from the start.
Foster would probable close the book he has been writing on me and my heritage, and maybe do an epilogue about me, Faith and Blair.
And Katt, she would probably be the only one to cry for me openly, just as she had openly cried for Blair while Foster and me decided to drink each other into complete and utter idiotic forgetfulness stupor
Man, now I really needed a drink, and a smoke.
And so, reaching such a gigantic impasse, I got up, not really paying attention to Whistler's shocked expression, turned around and left, looking for the proverbially booze to drown my sorrows.
Only problem was, with the current state of affairs, I wasn't sure there was enough alcohol in the world to help me forget.
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I never saw her come in, I was so engrossed on the whiskey in my glass that I didn't even felt her when she sat next to me. In front of me was a bowl full of pretzels and assorted bar munchies, to my right an ashtray full of butts and ashes, almost 80 of it accountable to yours truly.
We stayed like that for some time, enjoying the closeness and the silence. It never occurred to me that the reason we hated each other at the beginning and then began to grow used to each other and then finally fell for each other was mainly for the same reason we had been loners before.
We had searched high and low for solace and absolution, hoping to find it by ourselves, and in the end, it was given by our exact same opposite.
"I know why you did it. " Faith began, not looking at me, but taking mu cigarette from the ashtray and giving it a long, meaningful drag. She then took the opportunity to grab my glass and down the rest of my drink. It was at this moment the bartender came and asked silently if either I or her wanted a refill.
"Bring two of them..." Faith said, answering my question.
"Remember when you told me to back off..? you repeated the same words I had said to you when we had first met. You told me that your past was yours and that your failures were meant to be your own private hell. The you took off and when I went after you you told me that you needed to do this alone."
The waiter placed both glasses in front of us and then left. I grabbed mine and took a sip, pulling another smoke from the pack I had, lighting it up.
"I followed you then, at that time I didn't knew why, but I guess it was because I was starting to fall for you. You went to the train station at night, and placed a red rose on the exact spot where she had fallen..."
I didn't said anything and continued to stare ahead of me. One thing I knew about Faith, she never told anyone anything, you could probably try to pry it out of her with pliers, but in the end she would tell you when she felt like it, and once she started, she would finish once she had said her peace.
"That was when I saw you for what you were. And then last Christmas, you showed me how much I meant to you. Remember..?"
I smiled at that.
"If I remember correctly your exact words were that for a bad ass anti-hero, I sure seemed to have a soft spot for chicks."
Faith smiled at that. "Yeah, and then you tried to brush it off by saying that it had happened to Bogart, so I guess it's all right if it happens to me..." She finished trying to imitate my voice, but failing miserably.
Faith smiled weakly at that. "And then I told you thanks...for the present, it meant a lot to me..." She took another drag from her cigarette and then proceeded.
"Of course you had to be an ass and said something about don't mentioning it, how I might have been correct all along about you being a cold hearted bastard and all that..."
She then circled my right arm with her left one, grabbing my hand and entwining her finger with mine, resting her head on my shoulder. I could her voice strained, trying not to let a chocked sob escape.
"And I finished by saying that yeah, you were, but now you were officially a soft hearted lunkhead, if it made you feel better...and then you said that it was a start...Now you're gonna carry that weight with you..."
So I did the only thing I could, I paid the tab and went with her to her place, holding her the entire night as she cried herself to sleep remembering each one of the people she knew, of the people she had killed, of the ones that had died.
And then I heard Blair voice once more repeating what she had told me the day the she died.
You're gonna carry that weight.
In my case, no one is more annoying than someone who's just like the person you used to love. Trust me, it just blows.
So yeah I was a bastard, and a slime ball, a messed up loser and demon hunting scum bag.
I was always the henchman, the sidekick, the ultimate wingman, everything but the leading man.
But in the end I got the girl.
So yeah, I'll gladly carry all that weight around if it means that she will at least sleep peacefully.
God I love watching her sleep.