All this belongs to Joss Whedon and all the other creators
Angel POV:
I slept in the bus. It was day light outside. The previous night had…not been what I was expecting. Buffy had just stared at where her house had been. Tears had rolled down her cheek all the while. Every time a tear left her eye, it broke my heart further and further.
She tried to wipe away her tears, trying to not cause me pain. But they never stopped.
I had to admit, Sunnydale had its ups and downs.
Downs meaning it was a huge breeding ground for all sorts of evil. Ups meaning, that it all had some sentimental value for everyone, good and bad. For me, it gave me the reason to go on living. She had held my hand last night.
I smiled at the feel of her touch. I breathed in the desert air deeply. It covered up the blood of all the humans in the area. I remembered Buffy bringing me back to her camp just before dawn.
Dawn and Willow both hugged me when I came. Giles nodded to me, still holding a grudge against me for killing Jenny. Xander, who I expected to also nod to me, shook my hand instead. That surprised me. He must've gotten over his grudge against for…whatever reason he had a grudge against me.
Faith had punched my shoulder lightly. I smiled at her friendliness. Some guy came up to me and ogled me, staring at me like I was a super model. When I asked Buffy why he did that, she…explained it to me.
Principle Wood…well, he just ignored me. He wasn't very fond of me, or what I was. It didn't bother me though. Buffy had taken me into the bus. She placed a tarp over, even though I had no idea where she had gotten it.
They must have kept it in the bus for Spike. When I heard that my old friend…enemy…whatever was dead, I didn't know what to say. I didn't even know how to react. All I knew was that, I wasn't in mourning. Buffy, on the other hand was depressed by that as well.
I didn't tell her that I couldn't care less about Spike. In a way, I always liked Spike on some level. That's all I had to say about him, that I wanted to say. It was now day, probably ten in the morning. I was sleeping in the back seat, since it was the closest thing they had to a bed.
I stared at the ceiling of the bus, my mind wandering. I was brought out of it by the door of the bus opening and the person (I would've least expected) to step in.
Buffy POV:
It was my turn to train the slayers. They had strong technique. Each of us had shifts teaching them. I had the beautiful responsibility of teaching them power. They had softer punches then I ever had. I could take them down all easily, except for Kennedy.
She had almost as much power as I did. She was my best. I would use her as a model for the others. Once in a while, I would grab one of them to hit a rock. Yes, a rock. I would hold it in front of the, so they could punch it. I would see how far they would be able to punch it across the pit. Vi aced that test. She smiled when it landed about five miles past the opposite edge. Faith watched me, making me feel as if I was being tested on testing.
Faith eventually took over to test them on their technique. That seemed to be less sharp than their power. Jealousy stung me.
I walked over to where Willow was sitting. She was crunched up into a ball. She looked into Sunnydale, a pained look surrounding her face. I approached her, kneeling down. I put my hand on her shoulder. She stayed as still as ice.
She slowly breathed in and out, probably trying to stop her sobs. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared at one particular spot. I looked to where her gaze looked, and I wondered what she missed.
Tara, she thought. I snapped my head up to her. She was still looking out towards where Tara's grave would be. I continued to look at my best friend. Until now, I had never noticed how beautiful she actually was.
Her red hair blew lightly in the wind. It perfectly framed her face which was turning darker because of the sun. Her hands, though covered with dust, were perfectly flexible and smooth. They didn't have a crack on them.
A sob escaped her throat. She closed her eyes and put her head in her hands. I laid my hand on her shoulders and laid her head on my lap. She laid there, sobbing. It hurt me, seeing her like that.
She only cried this hard in front of me when Oz had cheated on her. That was four years ago. Another memory to add to my reasons of missing Sunnydale, another to cry into my lover's arms, and another reason to stare off into oblivion.
I didn't tear up again, just stared, as the daunting truth started to settle in.
Angel POV:
Xander closed the door behind him. The sun went away as he closed it. He went to the second seat in the row of seats and slumped into it. I watched him as he stared blankly out of the tarp-covered window. I was trying to think about why he was there.
I couldn't come to any conclusion. It frustrated me. Why would he come in here, if not to see me? I decided to ask him.
"So…having fun staring at the tarp?" I asked him, trying to act uninterested. He jumped. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was me.
"Oh…Angel, I didn't see you," he said.
"Um, Xander, didn't you know I was here?" I asked, all acting gone. Xander had an ashamed look in his face.
"Um, no, Sorry Angel. I didn't know you were sleeping," he said gingerly.
Xander's voice broke as I saw a tear roll down his face. I raised my eyebrow in curiosity. He noticed that I had noticed. Awkward.
"Um, Xander?" I said.
"Angel, I-I need…to talk…to you about…something. If you could just give me a second?" his voice broke while searching for words.
"Of course, Xander. Whatever you need," I said. I turned into my side so I faced the seat. Xander needed to talk to me. About what? I couldn't figure it out.
Xander POV:
He would know what to do. Anya ran through my head for whatever I stared at reminded me of her. The bright blue sky, the dusty, barren desert, heck even Angel reminded me of her. He was, after all, a demon gone good.
That's why I needed to talk to him. He knew how to handle something like this. Buffy had died twice on him. I would talk to Buffy about this, but she wasn't in the same position. She had killed Angel. She had not only grief, but also guilt.
I breathed in and out, stopping my tears. I closed my eyes escaping into one more fantasy in which Anya had survived. Out of sheer will, I lifted myself up and walked over to the seat next to Angel.