Author's Note: It feels surreal, but this is the second to last chapter. The Epilogue has been written and will be posted tomorrow night (after a little bit of polishing up) I can't believe it's all but over...
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, everyone who has read this story over the past year and a half, and who have left reviews. Your kind words and support have carried me through many a difficult time, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. I hope these final chapters please you and that they tie up all the many many storylines that have been going on in this piece.
Never again will I write such a huge piece with so many characters. It was exhausting. But, I have to admit, I also loved every minute (painful writers block and all) This spiraled into so much more than I ever planned or dreamed. 36 chapters (plus an epilogue). Somewhere in the region of 79,000 words (that's 4 times the length of my Master's thesis! eek!) So thanks for sticking with me.
Chapter Thirty-Six : A Family Once More
When Angel, Cordelia and Connor opened their eyes in the grand room of the Vail mansion, they heard a huge commotion outside on the lawn. But it didn't sound like a battle. It sounded like…
Celebration.
Running outside, they saw their friends – their troops – yelling and crying in happiness and relief, hugging each other or just simply staring at the battlefield in disbelief.
They had won.
In the centre of the crowd stood the Scooby gang. Buffy smiled as she saw them approaching, putting her hands on her hips and affecting an exasperated pose.
"You missed the battle."
Angel laughed. "We kind of had one of our own to deal with."
"And yeah, speaking of which," Cordelia said. "What the hell happened, Willow? You don't warn a girl before you imbue her with serious superpowers?"
The Witch seemed just as confused, if somewhat thrilled, with the results of her spell, and had no explanation for what had happened. Giles, however, had a theory.
"The scroll Wesley sent me, the one that we used to resurrect you, Cordelia, repeatedly made reference to you as "The Vessel". So when Willow used that term in enjoining spell, I think the power sought out both of you – due to your mystical connection – rather than Buffy and Faith."
The Watcher cast a sideways glance at Buffy to see how she felt about what had happened as was relieved to see that she was smiling.
"Hey, I'll take any kind of break the Powers want to throw at me," she told him. "It was getting exhausting having to save the world all the damn time."
"Well sure," Xander quipped. "It never stays saved for long."
"So, are they dead?" Connor wanted to know. "The Senior Partners – did you kill them?"
Cordelia and Willow exchanged looks, but it was Angel that answered.
"They're eternal, Connor. They can't be killed."
"We banished them back to their own dimension," Willow added. "Their rising had been put off for another millennia or so. Best we could do. We won."
A look of pain crossed the Witch's face. Yes, they had won – but at what cost?
The day that followed was spent attempting to clear up some of the damage caused by the battle, in and around the Hyperion. The entire area looked like a war zone – which, in truth, it was.
With sorrowful hearts, teams of slayers gathered up their dead, laying them out in the ballroom, wrapped in shrouds. The corpses of the demon army – those which hadn't considerately turned to dust or dissolved upon death – were loaded up into vans, to be buried in a mass grave in the rubble of the Wolfram and Hart offices.
Inside the hotel, they did their best to sweep up the glass and the debris. It would take time, but repairs would be made, a semblance of normality returned to. The property damage was significant but not catastrophic.
The same could not be said for the human cost of the war.
They measured that cost after sunset that night, as they buried their dead. The garden of the Hyperion backed onto a beautiful community garden and it was there that the graves were dug.
As they lowered Kennedy's body into the ground, Willow finally allowed herself to accept her loss, and began to weep openly. Flanked by Buffy and Xander, her body wracked with sobs, she clung to them as they gave her all the support they could.
The long list of names was read off – Kennedy, Andrew, followed by Slayers, Demons and Streetfighters alike – all of their fallen comrades remembered and honored.
As the last body was lowered into the ground, Giles stepped forward to say a few words.
"That which has come from the Earth has returned to the Earth," he said, reading from a large black volume which Willow had lent him. Traditionally, the Wiccan Requiem ceremony was performed by a High Priestess. But Willow had made it clear that she was in no state to perform the ritual and had left it in Giles's more than capable hands.
"That which belonged to the Spirit has returned to the Ancient Ones. The wheel turns."
He looked among the faces gathered around them. Yes, they had lost much. So many young lives snuffed out in the face of evil. But there was much that had survived. They had won the battle, despite the cost. They had snatched the Earth back from the jaws of evil. And now, gathered around him, was the future. Young slayers who would guard and protect this world of theirs, against all the darkness that would inevitably attempt to rise up in the years to come. Life was truly a circle. Death came – often too soon – but life, in all its glorious shapes and colors, went on.
"That which belongs to fellowship and love – that which belongs to the circle, remains with us. Nothing is final."
He looked across the crowd to Buffy, Willow, Xander and Dawn and smiled supportively at them. Their love and friendship had taken them all this far, and would take them further still.
"No farewell is the last farewell. The wheel turns. And we who remain behind know that one day we will once again share the bread and wine with those who have gone before."
Angel wrapped his arm more tightly around Cordelia. They were silently lost in thought, remembering the members of their family who had gone before. Doyle. Wesley. Fred. Gunn. They felt their presence now as they said their goodbyes to others who had died fighting the good fight. Had died champions.
After the service had ended, the large group dispersed – some grouping together to talk over old times, others choosing to spend time alone in quite reflection, or simply looking for space.
Cordy searched in vain for any sign of Illyria. It was strange, but after everything, Cordy felt the need to look on Fred's face – however changed by the presence of the demon. She missed her.
Illyria's presence had been sporadic since the end of the battle and now she was no where to be found. When she asked Spike, the vampire simply nodded and she knew. Illyria would not be coming back.
Angel approached Lorne's door with some trepidation. The issues between them had been put on hold by the battle and now he knew that they needed to resolve them.
Lorne answered the soft rap on his door wearing his trademark satin robe, holding an equally trademarked sea breeze in one hand. He gave the vampire a half-hearted smile.
"Angel-cakes. I'm having a nightcap before bed. Want to join me?"
He proffered the glass as he moved away from the door to let Angel enter.
"No thanks, Lorne," he replied, shutting the door behind him, his nervousness increasing. "Look… I know we need to talk."
The demon sat down in the comfortable chair nestled in an alcove by the bed and shrugged.
"Yeah, we do," he admitted. "So lets… not."
Angel sank down on the corner of the bed, utterly nonplussed.
"What?"
The demon sighed and took another sip of his drink. "They say the first casualty in any war is innocence. And boy did I lose mine. And I'm not saying that I forgive you for putting me in that position because, believe me, that will be a long time coming. But I made the choice. I agreed. And I'll have to live with that. And so will you."
Angel nodded. "I know. And I'm sorry for asking you…"
Lorne held up his hand. "We all have to make tough choices in wartime. Mostly ones that no civilized person would ever dream of making. We'll be okay… someday."
They sat in silence for a moment as they absorbed this. Things were not okay between them. But they would be, and that was something.
"What are your plans now?" Angel wanted to know.
"I'm not sure yet," the demon replied. "I thought I might get out of LA for a while. Do a little bit of traveling. See the world."
"You'll come back, though. Right?"
Lorne finished his drink. "The City of Angels has my heart, Angel-kins. I'll not stray from her for too long."
Spike remained at Buffy's side throughout – never sure when the time would come that he'd be called back by the Powers, so making the most of his remaining time with her. She, meanwhile, had slowly come to terms with the knowledge that he would be leaving.
"I need you to know something," she told him when they were alone later that night. They sat together on the bench in the garden – he's arm slung protectively across her shoulder, her head buried in his chest.
"What's that, pet?"
"When I said 'I love you', before you died in Sunnydale?" she began, sitting up so that she could look him straight in the eye. "I meant it."
"Buffy…"
She placed her fingers on his lips to silence him.
"I meant it. I don't know how or when, but I fell in love with you. I loved you that night – and I love you now. You have done more, come further, grown more than anyone – anyone I've ever met. You fought and almost died to regain your soul. You died to save the world – more than once. You are an incredible man. And I love you."
For the first time in his unlife, Spike was completely lost for words. So instead he kissed her, with more passion and tenderness than he thought it were possible for him to show. When the kiss ended, he knew it was time.
"I'll always be with you, you know that?" he told her.
Tears in her eyes, she nodded, no longer able to speak.
"I love you too," he told her with a smile.
And then he was gone.
Over the next few days, people slowly began to leave the hotel. Rondell and his remaining crew members were first to go. As he left, Rieff approached the human.
"I wanted to thank you," the demon said. "For saving my life."
Rondell was taken aback for a moment. Then he nodded.
"Not something I ever thought I'd do," the young man admitted. "But I'm not sorry I did it."
With only a brief hesitation, he clasped the demon by the hand before rejoining his crew and heading out into the bright Los Angeles sunshine.
As the numbers in the hotel decreased, Angel knew it was only a matter of time before Connor also took his leave. The young man had been quiet since he woke up from his enchanted coma – Angel would often find him deep in thought and spending much of his time alone.
"Like Father like Son," Cordelia had commented. "He's got the brood-gene."
Angel had tried to give him space, but didn't like to leave him alone too much either, for fear of his son going off the rails as he had the previous year. But he didn't seem quite so angry anymore. Just… sad.
Two days after the funerals, Angel found him alone in the basement, lost in thought.
"Hey."
Connor looked up, not surprised to see his father standing there.
"Hey," he replied, granting Angel a small smile.
"How are you doing, son?"
Connor measured his words, choosing each one carefully, it seemed. "I've been thinking that I should maybe… head out soon. My… my parents are expecting me to join them in Montana."
"Oh…" was all Angel could manage. After a moment, he collected himself. "Well, that's good. They're your family and its… good. That you want to be with them."
"Dad."
Angel looked at him, surprised.
"You're still my father," Connor told him. "That's never going to change. And I'm not leaving LA for good. I just need to go… clear my head. For a while. That – with the Senior Partners? That was intense."
Angel nodded. "Yeah."
"I thought I was over it all. I thought everything that happened last year before the spell… I thought all the pain had been erased. But it's still there. The Partners were able to tap into it and use it against me. I still have a lot I need to let go of."
Angel measured the difference between the young man that sat before him now, and the one he was confronted with the previous year. Both had been through so much pain. Too much, for his young years. And yet, the Connor he was faced with now, though clearly troubled, was so much stronger than the Connor of a year ago. A year ago, Connor had given up. Now, he was ready to move on.
"I'm proud of you, son," Angel told him. "The way you… I…"
Suddenly, anything else he could say felt inadequate. So he stuck to the simple truth of the matter.
"I'm proud of you."
Soon there was no one left at the Hyperion except Angel, Cordelia and the Scoobie core. The majority of the slayers had returned to Europe of other parts of America to spend time with their families. Now a blended family of sorts spent time together in the rare peace and quiet they found themselves in.
Dawn stretched and yawned but was determined not to sleep yet so that she would miss nothing. Willow sat behind her, quietly braiding the teenager's hair and lost in her own thoughts of Kennedy and Tara.
Xander and Buffy sat closely together, her head on his shoulder, as he comforted her loss without saying a word, while Giles sat reading, occasionally looking up from his book to add something to the conversation. Faith sat on the desk, oiling her crossbow, feigning disinterest, but secretly relishing their old war stories.
Angel sat at Cordy's feet, one hand resting on her knee, as if to ensure that she was still there. She had regained something of her old self, joining in the discussion over the old times with animation.
"Oh god! What about when all the vamps came after us at the high school when the Hellmouth nearly opened – for the first time," she amended, knowing all too well how many times it had almost opened after that.
"You mean when you drove your car through the school, right up to the library door?" Giles asked, still amazed that she had done such a thing.
"Desperate times," she replied. "You would have done the same with half a dozen vampires on your tail. And I was still trying to get used to the whole concept of 'vampires and demons are real' back then."
"What about when the Zombie Quarterback wanted to cut off your head and attach it to his Bride of Frankenstein?" Willow added.
Cordy quirked an eyebrow at the Witch. "What about when you found out you were dating a werewolf."
"Well at least I didn't exclusively date demons," Willow retorted. "Like Xander."
"Hey!"
"She's got a point, Xand," Buffy reminded him.
Xander still looked aghast. "Yeah. But cheap shot."
Willow stuck her tongue out at him.
"Let's face it, gang. Is there any of us who hasn't dated a demon?" Buffy remarked.
A collective shrug went around the room. With the exception of Giles, who slowly raised his hand.
"I haven't."
Xander snorted. "Told you all those British Librarian types were boring."
Giles shot the younger man a stern look, before turning to Angel, who had been quietly enjoying the banter.
"So, Angel. Have you given any thought as to what you'll do now?" the Watcher asked. "Will you start up the detective agency again?"
Angel and Cordy shared a look. It was something they had talked over at length and had both agreed upon.
"I don't think it would feel right," he replied. "Starting up Angel Investigations again. Not with Wes, Gunn and Fred gone."
"We're not sure what we'll do yet," Cordy replied. "Right now, I think lots and lots of sleep is my number one priority."
She looked at Angel and he nodded, talking her hand and helping her to her feet.
"Night you guys."
A chorus of goodnights followed them as they made their way, hand-in-hand, to the stairs.
It was strange, Cordy thought, how comfortable they all were together now. After all that had happened, they had come through the other side. As friends. As lovers.
As family.
As far as victories went – in war, or otherwise – that had to be the greatest victory of all.