What They Fought For, an angel fanfic

Title: What They Fought For
Author: Miz Thang
Characters/Pairing: Ensemble
Rating: FRT
Word Count: 2573
Warnings: Major character death and some angst involved.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the little story's idea. Everything else belongs to who it belongs to.
Summary: Not Fade Away and the fight thereafter. Only – it's a bit backwards.

The sun has risen. She's bleeding in multiple places – places she'd never known she was weak in – and her injuries are great. She's cold, her skin chilled to the bone from the rain of the night before. But the rain has long stopped, and the demons have all left her to stand victorious.

But she is alone. For the stretch of land that was their battle ground, she sees not hide nor hair of any of her allies, and the sword that she holds tighly falls from her grip and clangs on the cement ground in her realization.

Her lone survival (because what else can it be?) will be a testimony that the vampire has won for his kingdom. She is their suvivor, and she will keep their memory strong.

She fought for vengeance, to avenge Wesley's death, to alleviate her own grief. She fought to survive. She fought to win. She fought because she wanted to be the victor. She fought because Welsey had fought, and she had wanted to keep that alive.

She needs, however, someone to help her survive in this world. She's saved it, but she is in need to learn more about where she must now live ( she realizes she has made herself one of its many protectors, and she accepts this).

Her icy blue eyes lift above her to the sky, and she sees a rainbow. Her breath is almost caught because these were rare when she was in power, and maybe she understands why – as if to agree with this, her form shifts into that of the shell. The last thing Wesley saw.

She watches Angel's son, Connor, vault over the high fence she had appeared from the night before, and decides that she will let him go whichever way he chooses. Their paths are not to interlock anymore, she is sure.

Lucky for him, she thinks, almost amused. She looks back at the sky of orange, yellow and blue with a smile.

Connor can see the sun rising, and the sky is turning this beautiful mix of pink, purple, orange, red, yellow and blue. It's going to be a really sunny, beautiful day tomorrow, and he bets there'll even be rainbows.

He wants to just stop and stare at the wonder of it, but he can't afford to do so. He's in the middle of a war, and though he knows that everyone but himself and Illyria may be gone, he doesn't want to stop fighting. He doesn't want to stop fighting until it's clear who the victor is.

He finds an ax by a dumpster, not recognizing it in the slightest, and slices as many demons with it as possible, before he realizes that it's Gunn's. He freezes, lost in a time more than a year ago, where he'd sank his father to the bottom of the Pacific, and Gunn and Fred has taken care of him like their own kid –

A demon knocks him off his feet and he's surrounded. He fights as hard as he can, taking out demons left and right, until he can barely move his limbs.

But he can't stop fighting; he can't afford to stop fighting. He will see this to the end because he has to. If he dies, however, he'll be okay, he thinks. Because he gets it now.

He finally understands. About Champions, about why they fight. And because he understands this, he keeps fighting, waiting for his end.

But the sun rises, and he watches Illyria look around in awe. He doesn't wait to be approached, he turns and scales the fence, leaping over it. He's going to go back to what Angel gave him now. He figures he owes the vampire that much.

Angel takes the dragon out long after he notices that he can only see Connor and Illyria near him. But, he never gives himself the time to think about what that could possibly mean because there are more important things, like winning the war, surviving until daybreak (maybe he'll go to Italy and tell Buffy how they survived and then drop the bomb on her that Spike's dead – but no, he won't because that's awfully childish and he's supposed to be moving on…).

The dragon manages to take out two buildings in its fall and Angel watches it's descent with the tiniest smile, because he can feel that they're in control of the situation now. They have the power – because that's what all of it's about. If only one of them survive, they still hold the power, they won't be completely eradicated (and now's the time to mention that he's relying on Illyria and Connor for that).

Angel doesn't like the fact that Connor has seen fit to join the war, but realizes that he can't do anything and that he's lost his rights to act like a father a long time ago. He really wishes it was different.

Angel knew from the very beginning not to expect help or reinforcements in the form of Buffy. He knew that it would just be him and his team to the very end, and he prefers it this way, because she's moved on and he's started to get there. They're lives don't meet up anymore – and maybe he prefers it this way.

Angel fights for the world. He fights to keep it moving. Angel doesn't believe in the Sanshu prophecy any longer, but he does believe in the world and he does believe in protecting it.

And he saves and protects the world because of the one person he cares about the most that lives in it – Connor. More importantly than the world, and making all their past fighters' deaths matter, he took on the Senior Partners for Connor and for his son's survival. He fights with the hope that one day, Connor will get older and have children and get married.

Which is exactly why, when a demon catches him off guard, nothing can wipe the smirk of triumph (he can see pink in the horizon) of Angel's face as he crumples to dust.

Spike keeps himself deep in the battle, outside that little interlude with Gunn, because there's nothing else for him to do. He keeps fighting, he keeps kicking punching, hacking and slashing (and he will not think about why Gunn's ax is in his hands and not its rightful owner's because that's just asking for badness), and all the while he has to wonder what he's doing this for, why he's even bothering, and why he didn't go find Buffy instead of signing his own death warrant.

Spike already knows the answer, of course. He didn't go to Buffy because she's moved on (and because it's about time he did so himself). He doesn't go to Buffy because he knows in his mind, and now in his heart, that she will never love him the way he wants her to love him. He didn't go to Buffy because she isn't where he belongs anymore, because he belongs wherever the fight is (fists and fangs, right?). He didn't go to Buffy because she, and Dawn, isn't the only reason for why he fights anymore.

He didn't go to Buffy because he actually learned something by being with Angel these past few months. He didn't, and will never (if he survives this) go to Buffy, because besides her, and Dawn, and her friends, and the world, he's fighting for himself. He won't go to Buffy because being here, fighting now, is the one and only place he can be and truly say that he did that, that he stood and fought for himself.

He grins, knocking a demon off his feet. Now that he knows this, understands this, he reckons –

But, then again, you never know when a moment is going to be your last. And he comes to this very true, very real, realization at the same moment that some nameless demon slams a stake into his chest and he crumbles to dust. Maybe premanently this time. Hopefully.

Gunn sees when Connor flies off the roof of a building, coming to land beside Angel all while telling the vampire that he should've known better than to expect that Connor would just return to school and forget all about the war Angel was going into. And Angel had agreed with the boy, reluctantly. And why not? This was his son, the only lasting impression he'd really ever have on the world, and not to mention the one good thing he was ever really proud of, and he could die tonight…like Wes –

And, like that, the horde was upon them.

Gunn tries to clear his mind and not think about anything besides making it one demon to the next. All he knows is that he has to keep going, he has to keep fighting.

He's fighting for redemption, Gunn. He's fighting, hoping that somewhere, anywhere in the universe, Fred exists and sees what he's doing, and can forgive him for what he did, for killing her. He knows he didn't shove Illyria inside of her, but letting the tomb inside the building is close enough for him.

"Looks like you've got two minutes, Charlie." Spike says in passsing, as per Illyria's prediction on how long Gunn will last.

Gunn almost laughs, but his side hurts and he doesn't really think that he has that much energy anymore. "I think I've got plenty more time, Blondie, but thanks for the reminder."

The bleached blond sends him a slight grin and a nod before disappearing into the crowd of demons once more, out of Gunn's sight.

Five minutes later, Gunn decides that he should take a break – but this doesn't at all mean that he's ready to time out; he has more work to do. He holds his side as he stumbles to the tiny space of protection behind a dumpster. A look at his side tells him that he's still bleeding heavily, worst than before, and that it's much more likely that, though he survived the past fifteen minutes, he won't survive the next two.

His breathing is shallow, and he sinks into a sitting position, his back against the wall. He keeps his arm close to his injured side, and closes his eyes to listen to the sounds of the battle continuing. His ax has been abandoned two feet away from him, but he doesn't care. He's not in any danger, not right now.

He takes deep breaths, but each one hurts a bit more, until he can't stand the attempt. He tells himself that the war will be over soon, and they'll be on top, and that all he'll have to do is sit here with his eyes closed, and rest and wait – and then, once he's well rested, he'll be ready to get back in the game and show them…show them what they're…they're messing with…

His eyes never open.

Wesley doesn't know what's coming next. He doesn't know what Angel's waiting for, or what Angel wants them to meet in the alley behind the Hyperion hotel for. He doesn't have a single clue about the army waiting to tear them to pieces and leave no survivors.

But then again, Wesley doesn't know if that even matters, because he's not even going to survive his independent mission. Maybe Angel should have really let Spike do it. Wesley would take a baby-stealing cult over Vail and dying with a gaping hole in his abdomen any day, if only to keep fighting to preserve her memory, the way he remembers her.

He's tumbling to the ground after Vail decides he wants his dagger back, but before he can meet the harsh marble, Illyria is there, reassuring him that he'll be with Fred when he dies, that she isn't completely gone, that they'll be together and that everything will be okay.

He shivers in Ilyria's arms, trying to make himself believe what she tells him, trying to believe her as she holds him, wearing Fred's face and lying to him, and he hopes that he did enough in his fight – for Fred. She was his reason, his only reason.

Just before he stills and his eyes slide closed, he notices Fred's – Illyria's – tears and he knows, because it can only be concern, worry, care, that she will avenge him and fight for his memory as he did Fred's.

He thinks he can believe her lie now.

It's almost reassuring.

You can call Lorne whatever you want. Whatever you'd like. You can call him a coward, a quitter, anything else that strikes your fancy, but the fact of the matter is that Lorne knew well ahead what was going to happen, therefore, after catching the basic gist, there was no need to be physically present for the downfall.

Lorne had known, all those few short weeks ago that seemed like a lifetime when Fred sang those few bars of You Are My Sunshine. He'd know she'd be overtaken by Illyria despite all their tries; he just didn't want it to be true at the time. But, after, he had to admit that they were in for a serious hurt and he made preparations. He'd known what Angel was going to do before Angel knew what Angel was going to do, and decided on how he was going to continue it all on after Angel angered the Senior Partners and there was nothing left of his friends but rotting corpses and dust. Nothing left, but Illyria.

He'd known that this would only result in the deaths of Wesley and of Gunn. He'd known of Angel, and Spike, and he'd known what would become of Connor.

He'd known what he'd be asked to do, and he'd known he wouldn't be able to deal with surviving this result (though he was no better now, leaving Los Angeles before everyone he knew would die, knowing they'd die and not doing anything to stop it).

What Lorne had really seen and understood was the triumphant stance of Illyria as the sun rose above her head and rayed down on her, all evidence of this fight erasing themselves. And he knew Illyria would come in search of him, for help in this world. He knew that about as much as he knew he'd help her – a new champion for the Powers That Be, she was.

And this was why Lorne had made this decision to give up, had dropped his gun and walked away. The curtains had closed on Angel, but not on the rest of the world. And Lorne understood this. He was a fighter of the future, not the present. And that meant he stuck alongside the next hero that came along, and well, he already knew who that would be, didn't he?

Illyiria is a lone figure, gingerly stepping out into the empty streets of Los Angeles, wearing the form of a person she killed and ready to begin her new journey – that of a hero, a Champion.

She decides that now she will go of in search of the green demon, Lorne. She will find him wherever he has retreated to, and she will learn from him. She will learn from him, and she will fight, and she will protect these humans that Angel, Gunn, Spike, Wesley, cared for. And she will keep what they fought for alive.