London, England, Spring 1999

Quentin Travers, the head of the Watchers Council-the organization which governs the Vampire Slayers, was silent as he watched his colleagues begin taking their seats, waiting for the meeting to start. It had not even been a full year since the Watchers Council had needed to gather together for a meeting with such particular news to be imparted. Quentin didn't like to think of how many meetings of this nature he'd sat through in all of his years on the Council. The number was quite staggeringly high, and over the years he'd developed a wall separating his emotions from the work he did.

His thoughts turned to the Vampire Slayer this meeting was centered around: Buffy Summers. Quentin had eventually been impressed by the girl after she'd been Called. Miss Summers had answered her Calling at the age of fifteen-years-old, and had survived her first year quite well. Even death in her second year had not managed to keep her from fulfilling her duty. Miss Summers had been the first Slayer to ever be revived after death. This had earned her a unique place in their long, long history.

Despite her resuscitation, Miss Summers had been dead long enough that the mantle of being the Chosen One had been passed on to a Potential named Kendra Young from Jamaica. The Council had then made the decision not to inform Miss Summers' Watcher, Rupert Giles, that a new Slayer had been Called. Rupert had well documented how temperamental the girl was. She was an American, after all, and they didn't want to give her another reason to fight against her duty. She was still a Slayer, still the Chosen One. The world had been that much safer with the addition of a second Slayer. It was ironic that the Slayer who was next in line after Miss Young would turn out to be even more obstinate and less willing to follow orders than Miss Summers.

In fact, in Quentin's opinion, Buffy Summers was one of the best Slayer's since Sineya-the First Slayer. He'd had such high hopes for the girl, despite her tenacious tendencies to flout the rules and do things her own way. He couldn't argue that even with her less-than-obedient attitude, she still yielded results that were more than satisfactory, which was all that mattered in their business, he supposed. Miss Young, a very studious and nearly hyper-obedient Slayer, under the guidance of her strict Watcher, Sam Zabuto, would've been quite the contender to match Miss Summers' record. It was such a shame they never had the opportunity to find out.

The more Quentin thought of Miss Summers, the more of her more impressive feats came to mind. With barely two days' notice, she had foiled the Harvest, the ritual that would've seen the Master, a vampire formerly named Heinrich Joseph Nest, to rise from his mystical prison beneath Sunnydale and open the Hellmouth months sooner than he did. She had survived The Three, the deadly warriors the Master had sent after her as well as assassins from the Order of Taraka William the Bloody, otherwise known as Spike, had contracted to kill the Slayer. Not to mention her myriad other triumphs in their fight against evil. It was truly amazing all that she had accomplished in her tenure as the Slayer.

When everyone was finally seated, Quentin pulled himself from his reverie. It was time to start the meeting, and putting off unpleasant news would not make the situation any better. There was too much to be done to entertain delays due to sentimentality. Not that he entertained the counterproductive emotion often anyway.

Quentin took a deep breath as he looked around the faces of his colleagues.

In the reserved and detached tone of a true Brit, Quentin informed the Council of the reason for their gathering.

"Buffy Summers is dead."

Sunnydale, California, December 1998

A peaceful calm that Buffy Summers had not felt in years settled over her as she walked along Main Street hand-in-hand with Angel. They were marveling at the cotton ball-like snowflakes falling down around them. It was a truly miraculous sight to behold. Up until that morning, even after all she'd seen and experienced since becoming the Slayer, Buffy wasn't sure that she'd believed in honest-to-God miracles. She went to high school on a Hellmouth, there were Hell dimensions, she had been to one, and so had Angel. Logic dictated that if Hell existed, then surely Heaven did, too. There was that whole thing about "cosmic balance" in the universe. It was a topic which would usually make Buffy roll her eyes when brought up because to her it just sounded like a crock-a lie people would tell themselves and others to make them feel better.

But not today. It wasn't a philosophical conversation Buffy was interested in having at this precise moment, but she knew at some point it would be something to discuss, if only to better understand the why of it. It couldn't be a coincidence that the same day Angel was hell bent on committing suicide by sunrise was the day snow so thick it would block the sun would fall in Southern California. In fact, Buffy refused to believe it. Clearly, there was an entity (Buffy would send it a fruit basket as a thank you if she ever found out who or what it was) that wanted Angel alive just as much as she did. She also refused to believe the First Evil and its claim that it had brought Angel back to kill her and release Angelus again. The Big Bad's always liked to talk a big game, rarely living up to their boastful claims, in her experience.

Buffy decided to shut her brain off and just enjoy the pleasure of holding hands with Angel again. She let the happiness stemming from such a simple action wash over her. It was nice to just be after the turmoil of the past few days. Buffy had faced Vampire Kings, witches, a humanity-burning demon, insane vampires, and a plethora of other nasty, evil beings, and yet she had never been more scared than when she thought Angel was really going to succeed in committing suicide; that he really would let himself be turned into ash by the sun. There was nothing on this Earth, or any other dimension, that could scare her more than the prospect of losing Angel. Again.

Later, after reassuring Joyce and the Scooby Gang plus Faith that everything was okay now (as okay as anything ever is in Sunnydale) Buffy made her way to the mansion. After their walk through town, Angel had gone home while Buffy went off to be the responsible daughter and friend by checking in with the others. Faith shrugged, said "Cool" followed by her staple "Five-by-five" then took off for God knows where-not that Buffy cared all that much at the moment. She was too preoccupied with thoughts of Angel, of Angel and her, and what the future might look like. After all the pain they'd been through, they could finally be them.

Take that, Spike! she thought with smug, and perhaps a little malicious, glee.

Of the others, Willow had lived up to her best friend role and was the most supportive. She had offered to call Xander so Buffy wouldn't have to deal with the vitriol he would spew in his jealousy and not-so-passive-aggressive comments. Giles had given her a look when she'd gone to him that said he wished she would make a different choice, but knew it was a lost cause and had begrudgingly accepted the situation for what it was. To her eternal appreciation, he had said that they would continue to look into Angel's reappearance in their dimension. If they could learn more about it, then maybe they would be prepared for the First Evil ('First Evil.' Hah! Delusions of grandeur, much?) to ever come back to torment Angel again. If it did, they would be ready.

No one messes with her boyfriend!*

Boyfriend. Just thinking the word filled Buffy with a giddiness she hadn't been prone to exhibit, or feel, really, in the last year. Not since her 17th birthday, to be exact. Buffy pushed those thoughts to the back recesses of her mind. She didn't want to think of those dark, dark months. Now was a time to celebrate and bask in the happiness, and she meant to do just that!

Angel built up the fire to ward off the chill the snow had brought to Sunnydale. He had parted ways with Buffy a little while ago in town so she could tell everyone they didn't have to worry he was going to "lose it" anymore. Not that Giles or Xander would be all that worried in the first place. At least Giles had an extremely good reason to hate him. Xander's hatred was nothing more than his belief he was Buffy's spurned lover. What the idiot didn't understand was that he'd never been a contender for Buffy's heart. That didn't stop him from being an immature boy and world-class ass, though.

Buried very, very deep in Angel's mind was the feeling of regret that Angelus had not killed Xander instead of, or in addition to, Jenny Calendar. Even Angelus had thought Xander was the worst possible friend ever, and that he didn't deserve to even call himself Buffy's friend. Which is why his soulless counterpart had decided he would kill Xander around Valentine's Day last year. Not only would it fulfill his tradition of cruelly taunting his victims, but it would also, in Angelus' words of course, 'Remove the heartless jackass from Buffy's life.' Angelus might be an evil bastard, but he wasn't wrong on that score. Angel couldn't exactly disagree with that particular sentiment, either. (Not that he would ever admit to it.) Telling the boy to grow up would only create more problems for Buffy, so it was best to keep his mouth shut when it came to his feelings about Xander.

With that in mind, he hoped that Buffy's mom and friends would accept the news that they were together again with grace, even if they didn't agree and weren't happy with it. Angel didn't care what any of them thought or felt about him and him and Buffy, but he knew their approval meant a lot to Buffy. And her life was already complicated enough, he didn't want to add another stressor. But staying away from each other was no longer an option. Angel would surely break without her at his side if the First Evil ever came back for another go at him. He would stake himself before he allowed Angelus to be freed again, giving the monster the opportunity to either kill Buffy like in the vision-dream from the First Evil or leave her alive to terrorize her and the others like last year. Angelus had always delighted in creating new levels of cruelty for his victims, and Buffy and the Scooby Gang had been the most exhilarating game of his undead life.

Angel sighed heavily. After the turmoil of the last few days, his strength-emotionally and physically-was depleted, and he sagged against the wall next to the fireplace. Buffy had said she would only be gone an hour or two, so he decided to rest until she got back. It would be nice to actually get some sleep and feel rested after waking. He made his way to the bed, his eyes getting heavier with each step. Angel was barely coherent by the time he collapsed face first onto the soft mattress. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow. His mind was blissfully silent, finally allowing him a peaceful rest.

When Angel woke, he wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but he actually felt rested and his previously chaotic mind was finally quiet. He would've attributed this to the 'Christmas miracle,' but he was fairly sure that it had more to do with the warm body snuggled up against him. Buffy was curled into his side and sleeping deeply. Angel wondered when she'd arrived because he couldn't recall turning over, or Buffy crawling into bed with him. They both had obviously needed the sleep and took great comfort in each other's presence to have slept so soundly.

Buffy's light floral scent filled his nostrils, and Angel breathed it in. It was one of his most favorite scents in the world. She was always so worried that being the Slayer didn't allow her to be a girly girl, but he disagreed. Buffy was one of the most feminine females he'd ever known. And honestly, she didn't even need to try. The girls of his human life basically made a career of primping and preening. Layers of powder and perfume to mask the smell of body odor that was the product of not bathing daily. It would be another century before daily bathing became a common practice, and that was only available for the rich and upper-middle classes. Most people didn't have time or could afford to take a hot bath every morning, so trying to mask the smell was the best that could be done until wash day, if a person even bothered in the first place.

And don't get him started on the cosmetics! Christ, they were a fright! Lead-based creams painted onto the face making it ghostly white. Pomade different shades of red applied to the lips in the "rosebud" shape. Rouge dabbed onto the cheeks in either round or triangle shapes. And then wigs piling hair as high as three feet and also powdered white. And can't forget the damn "beauty marks," pieces of velvet or fur temporarily glued to the face. It was all so ridiculous! Angel was glad that Buffy had not copied those historical fashion trends when she'd chosen her Halloween costume last year.

If things had not literally been falling apart, he would've had time to truly appreciate the magnificent sight she'd made and been stunned speechless to see her in that dress. But they had, and he'd been truthful later that night. A gown or sweatpants, it didn't matter; Angel would always think her beautiful. And maybe Buffy didn't personify the traits of "femininity" by society's standards, but she did to him. Unfortunately, one of the things Angel, to his great mental disturbance, very much had in common with Angelus was that he thought Buffy was sexy as hell when fighting. Maybe it was wrong, but, damn, did he like to watch her whale on a demon or vampire! The intoxicating scent of the endorphins flooding her system, the increased heart rate pumping all that hot, delicious blood…

The mental fantasy that was just getting started inside his head was cut off when the beautiful creature in his arms began to stir. Angel looked down to see eyes the same shade as sage blinking sleepily at him.

"Hi," she said, her voice rough from sleep.

Angel smiled at her. He always thought Buffy was adorable when she was first waking up. "Hey," he said in reply.

"Do you know what time it is?" she asked, stretching her body out alongside his, working out some of the kinks.

He shook his head. "No clue. I haven't been awake long, and I didn't want to disturb you."

He should probably think about investing in some items to make the mansion a little more homier, like clocks. Maybe some rugs and statues and vases to give the place a little culture, like his old apartment. Buffy would probably like a mirror or two as well, he thought as he focused his attention back to the young woman he loved more than anything.

"Well, I feel a lot better, and you look way better, so I'm guessing it's been a while." Buffy sat up and Angel copied her movement, stretching his limbs out as well.

She was right. She looked as well rested as he now felt.

Buffy looked at him warily. "You know this isn't going to be easy going forward, don't you?"

"When has life ever been easy for us, Buffy?"

She grimaced, but it smoothed out when Angel brushed some hair away from her face with a tender touch. "I know, and Mom, Giles, and Willow have accepted that we're going to be together again. Xander is another matter entirely, though, and while I don't give a damn that he disapproves, he's still my friend."

Angel desperately wanted to point out several instances where that was not an entirely accurate statement about Xander, but felt it wasn't the right time to argue against it. It probably never will be. He sighed. If only the universe would be kind enough to remove Alexander Harris from their lives permanently. What a day to rejoice that would be!

Wanting to reassure Buffy, though, Angel said, "We'll just take it one day at a time. Hopefully, with enough time, Xander will come around." Doubtful, but Angel wanted to try to be optimistic for Buffy's sake.

Buffy narrowed her expressive, green eyes at him. "You don't really believe that, do you?" She smirked at him.

He shook his head, chuckling softly. He never could fool Buffy for long. "Let me put it this way: I want to believe that."

Buffy's amusement morphed into sad understanding. "That's probably the best we can ask for right now." Angel nodded his agreement. She quickly rallied her spirit in true Buffy fashion and smiled brightly. "But we have each other, and we'll face whatever comes our way together," she said, extending her hand.

Angel didn't hesitate for a single moment, immediately taking her hand and entwining their fingers. "We will." His smile was as wide as Buffy's. He then raised her hand to press a kiss to the back like he'd been raised to do, before leaning forward and sealing their pledge with a sweet and long overdue kiss.

Foolishly, Angel and Buffy both believed that the universe would finally grant them some semblance, however small, of happiness in this hard, cruel world for everything that they had endured.

If only the universe were that kind.

Line almost directly from Season 2, Episode 10 "What's My Line?: Part 2"

And thank you, Datia (/u/4122464/), for requesting this fic. I hope I don't disappoint with the story I'll build around the specific plot points you gave me and general direction for the story. :)