Love After Death
By Buffy Sparrow
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Angel or Buffy. I merely like to play with them a little bit.
Summary: What would you do with your second chance? Would you tell him what he means to you? Or find out how it feels to lose him again?
A/N: Italics are flashbacks or, more accurately, thinking back on a certain point in time relative to the story. They will not always be separated by asterisk, depending on the flashback's purpose in a scene and some earlier chapters will contain more than one. Flashbacks set in Season 7.
"I'm not leaving him down there," I screamed, struggling against the grasp of Faith.
"We don't have a choice, Jinx. Now come on," she yells back, forcing me into action.
The bus was full of cries and screams, flowing from the mouths of the injured like their blood flowed onto the floor. I seemed to be the only one too in shock to vocalize my anguish, too lost in my own thoughts to even notice when movements ceased and everyone stepped out to stare at the crater. One lone tear fell down my pale cheek and landed on my newest, most precious possession. His lighter.
I awoke screaming, just like every night when the memories haunted me. With shaking hands, I brush my mane of naturally black hair away from my face and notice a wetness on my cheeks. Tears. My green eyes scan the room, gazing upon each individual bed to ensure I hadn't disturbed anyone despite the fact that the girls had gotten so used to my night terrors that they hardly even noticed anymore. Not girls, I have to remind myself; slayers. Ever since Sunnydale, new slayers have been called from all over the world thanks to the witch's spell and the new 'Watchers Council' is filled he brim with them. They are supposed to be training, taking in the demonology that would keep them alive and everyone was doing extremely well. Except me. With the exception of my night time screams, I show no emotions, no willingness to learn any of what they have to offer. The orders from Giles said that Andrew, of all people, has found a place where I can 'be of use'. Meaning they are tired of my shit and are pawning me off on someone else, which is just fine with me.
Knowing there is no longer any hope of sleeping anymore tonight, I climb out of bed and wander down the hall to the library. I've come to find a kind of peace in the musty, book filled room where I can read to my hearts content. Read the different journals from past watchers, read history books and theses written by people who actually knew of the demons that cause so many disasters... Read about him. I already know of his past before Sunnydale, know all of the gruesome details that go along with it, and feel no fear or disgust. That wasn't the man I knew, the man I fell in love with even while he only had eyes for Buffy, the original slayer. Those were the times I didn't understand. How exactly was it possible for a vampire to sacrifice so much for his one natural enemy?
Hidden on one of the book shelves, behind dusty volumes that no one touched, is where I hope to find my answer. In the writings Giles so neatly kept right up until that final battle and has now so conveniently 'lost'. Thus far I have found only brief mentions of the man I still mourn, but it's enough to keep me satisfied and his memory alive. I found I could laugh at his determination to kill the woman he would later grow to love while sitting in the quiet darkness, pity his situation after being captured by the Initiative and feel amazed by the trials and sufferings gone through to regain his soul. And it was all for nothing. He died for a woman who didn't deserve his devotion, leaving my heart to shatter while she felt only relief at being able to live a 'normal' life.
As the sun rises, I leave the sanctuary of the library to double check that everything is ready for my flight. I wasn't looking forward to the trip across the ocean, being only my second time on a plane, but Giles promised a comfortable ride in a private plane instead of a commercial one. Whoever I'm being handed off to must be loaded if they can afford to fly me in on their very own jet, or just very interested in having their own personal slayer. I don't really care which, just as long as I'm away from all of these reminders of what I've lost. L.A. shouldn't be too bad.
A/N: More's on the way, but feedback will get it here faster.