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Blood. He could smell the blood, both demon and human alike. It mixed with the downpour of rain, which seemed never ending. Perhaps it was meant to wash it all away; all the pain, all the injustice, all the suffering. The Blessed rain could accomplish the task that he could not. It could set things right. He had tried, spent these many years trying....trying to save the world from both outside forces and from itself, but he had not succeeded. There was no success without the ones who had supported him, had fought next to him through every battle. Four members of his group had perished, and he was to blame. He was always to blame. Now, in the plethora of oblivion he could smell the blood. In all likelihood, he would lose three more members of his shattered group. He could only hope that he would be one of the casualties of war. It was his turn, and it was a long time coming.
He had dreamed of humanity, yet he had signed it away in an instant. He couldn't fathom what had changed, but one thing was for certain, he did not want life. It was the last thing he wanted. Somehow in a matter of months the one thing he wished for most became the one thing he dreaded more than anything. Life was simply not an option for Angel, champion of the powers, helper of the hopeless, any longer. The feel of the wooden post entering his chest felt like poetry to his numb, non-beating heart. Finally it was over, finally he would go into darkness, never to be resurrected. At least, that's what he thought…
His eyes were sore. It must have been all the white. Wherever he was, whatever place this was, it was white as far as the eye could see. His first thought was that he had been taken to the white room to face the conduit to the senior partners, but then someone approached, someone very familiar.
"I woulda thought this place would be all black, what with you bein' a vampire and everything, and with the brood factor, o'course." spoke out a voice that, aside from an old tape, he hadn't heard in years.
Angel rose to his feet from his crouched position on the floor.
"Doyle?" he asked in shock.
"Well, yea, you know any other good-looking half demons with a sexy Irish accent?" He replied with a grin.
"I don't understand. Where am I?" Angel asked, looking around the sea of white.
"You're at the crossroads, my friend. You chose the bland color arrangement, but it was the powers that chose me as your guide. They got a habit o' doing that."
"My guide? My guide for what? I thought I was dead." The vampire responded in confusion.
"Death is an option, one of two options, that is." Doyle replied cryptically.
"There are options?"
The half-demon's eyes rolled "Course there are options. It's your choice. That's what life is; choices. We all make 'em, and they shape our destinies. It's not the powers that be that form our paths, it's us, and each choice we make affects the destiny of others. It's really complicated stuff."
Angel sighed "So I'm supposed to choose between two paths?"
Doyle nodded "That's exactly what your supposed to do. You're a champion Angel. The powers are willing to give you what you want, what you truly want, so don't go denying yourself of what you want because of that self-flagellation you're so fond of."
It was Angel's turn to roll his eyes "Fine. What are my options?"
"Life or death." He replied simply.
The vampire furrowed his brow, "Life or death? That's it?"
"That's it?!" Doyle asked incredulously. "It doesn't get more profound than life or death, man."
"Yeah, it's really complicated..." Angel's voice was monotone and apathetic as he chose, "Death."
His guide gave him a look of frustration and bewilderment, "You're choosin' death?"
Angel's face was like a statue, his look, dark "You told me to choose a path, and I chose it. Can we get on with it?"
Doyle sighed "If that's really what you want…"
"It's what I want." He answered resolutely.
There seemed to be nothing he craved more than death. It was a release. The idea of life seemed so empty. That path was not his. He was sure of it. This was the right decision. The only decision.
"Okay, man." was all Doyle said as he touched Angel's head.
There was a flash, and the next thing Angel knew, he was soaked to the bone.
"Bloody hell, mate, snap out of it, we've got ourselves a bit of a fight going on here." The voice of his long time comrade and rival broke him from his trance.
He was back in the alley, covered in rain. The battle against the Black Thorn demons persisted, and he had returned, but why? He chose death. Why would the powers return him to the world? Perhaps this was Hell, as Wolfram and Hart indicated to him years before. His punishment for his many sins would be to simply exist in this place for all of eternity, continuously failing his loved ones.
All of a sudden there were pictures in his mind, images as clear as anything he'd seen.
"Spike, you're…it can't be." Gunn muttered in awe.
"His heart beats. I can hear it. I feel his life. He is no longer Vampire. He is human." Illyria stated.
The next image appeared. It was Buffy...Buffy and Spike kissing in the sunlight, white dress flowing down her slender body.
The next image: Buffy young and beautiful, sitting next to an elderly Spike in a dreary, cold hospital room, his life slipping away.
The image after that: Buffy unchanged, crying at the grave of Spike, placing a rose upon his grave.
The headstone read:
Who wants to live forever,
when love must die
The final image appeared before his eyes: it was once again Buffy, wandering the streets by herself. She was lost, broken, and very much alone.
Finally, Angel returned to the downpour before him, his mind racing in perplexity. None of this made any sense.
"You intend for us to do all the work, you git?" Spike barked at Angel as he stabbed a demon through the heart.
"What's the matter with him?" Gunn shouted across the alley as he managed to decapitate two demons.
"I think he's finally gone barmy."
Angel rushed to Spike. "Stake me."
"What the hell are you on about?" The Blonde asked in confusion as he continued to shield, not only himself, but Angel, from demon attack.
"Spike, will you just stake me?!" Angel persisted.
"On any other day, I'd take you up on that offer, mate, but as it is, I fancy not dying, so I need you to at least pick off some of these guys."
"But that's just it, you will die if you don't stake me!"
"You are mental."
Angel sighed "Doyle! Doyle!" He exclaimed to the heavens.
Spike eyed him like he had lost every marble in his head as Angel looked to the skies and shouted.
"Damn it, Doyle, I need to talk to you!"
At last there was a flash, as he was returned to the endless white, to be greeted once again, by his old friend.
"You know, I'm technically not supposed to be doin' this, but I figure you can be a bit dense sometimes, so it's only fair to give you a second shot. Besides, it was the powers that sent you that vision."
Angel rose quickly to his feet "That vision of Spike becoming human and dying, and Buffy…I don't get it. Why did Spike get old but not Buffy?"
"It's a slayer thing. No one ever knew because slayer's have such short lives, due to outside forces. But a slayer is immortal. Much like the vampires they slay, a slayer will never die of natural causes, nor will their bodies age beyond that of their twenty-fifth year. Course, no slayer has ever made it that far until Buffy. With the spell makin' all the potential slayers into actual slayers, there was less of a burden on her. She could live."
The vampire thought deeply for a moment "Well, why did Spike Shanshu then?"
"Well, someone had to fulfill the prophecy, didn't they? You didn't choose life, so it couldn't be you, so it was Spike."
"Exactly, I didn't choose life. I chose death, so why was I even back there in the first place?" Angel asked, frustrated.
Doyle nodded "Aye, you chose death, but nobody said it was your own death we were talkin' about." He chuckled "Isn't just like Spike to have song lyrics on his tombstone?"
Angel exhaled an unnecessary breath "So I chose Spike's death? At least he got to live. That should be a good thing."
Doyle's eyebrows rose "Oh really, now? Then why didn't you choose life? Oh and what about Buffy?"
"What about Buffy?"
"Well, you saw it better than I did, all the pain she felt, all the suffering she went through. Is that what you want for her?"
That seemed to anger him. Angel approached Doyle in quiet fury.
"Of course I don't want that for her. That's why I left her in the first place. I wanted her to have a less painful, normal life. I can't help it that she fell for…Spike." It still seemed to irritate him that Buffy clearly loved Spike.
"Right…Look man, when are you gonna get it into your head that Buffy was never meant to have a normal life? It's not her destiny. Oh and if you think about it, Spike wouldn't exist if it wasn't for you, so no matter how you look at it, your actions were a factor in Buffy and Spike finding each other. And that was meant to be, Angel. It was meant to be because the right choices were made."
He scoffed, "Darla turning me into an evil soulless monster, who tortured a weak girl before turning her into an evil soulless monster, then her turning an idiotic poet into an evil soulless monster, who then became a not so evil soulful monster, were right decisions?"
"Yes, they were. Even our mistakes lead us to where we are meant to be. For example, you choosing death was a mistake, but it lead you to realize the right decision. So here we are. Now you can choose life, and remember, it's not just your life that you'd be choosing. It would be Buffy's and Spike's, and possibly others…"
"I suppose it will be worth it to do this for Buffy...and for Spike...but life isn't something I want anymore, Doyle." Angel's words were sorrowful.
"I wonder why that is." Doyle smiled.
"I just don't see the point of the Shanshu anymore."
Doyle nodded "There's no point in living without love, eh?"
Angel smiled sadly, dark tresses, chocolate eyes, and a dazzling smile flashing before him, "Something like that."
"Well, what if I told you that it's not only Spike that will live because of this choice, but also love and Hope?"
A bittersweet expression crossed Angel's face, "I'd say that my love and hope are already dead."
"Show's how much you know. You know, I gotta say, I was always jealous of what you had, but I know I made the right choice. She was your love. She is your love."
With that, Doyle raised his hand to Angel's head again "You just make sure you take care of her."
There was another flash, and he was on his back, a light drizzle on his face. His body ached in a way it hadn't ached in over two centuries. It needed something. At last, he realized what it was. Angel inhaled a deep ragged breath sharply. He was hyperventilating, his body not accustomed to breathing. He could feel pounding in his ribs, and his chest ached. He could feel the rain slowing, and the cheers of his friends, but he could not move.
Suddenly, a hand was extended to Angel from above. The hand belonged to a figure cloaked with an almost heavenly light. She was the most stunning sight that he had ever beheld. She was his love. She was his Cordelia.
His hand reached out, entwining with hers as she helped him to his feet. They were face to face. She smiled at him, that smile he had missed so much. His hand ran through her hair as she cupped his face. No words were spoken. No words were needed. No one had ever understood him the way Cordy had. Her palm traveled from his face to his chest, where she felt his heart racing, bringing a tear to her eye. She told him once that she would be there with him when he made it to the end of the tunnel. He had given up all hope of that dream being realized, yet here she was.
Angel placed his forehead against Cordelia's, and the sun came out of the clouds. They had been fighting all night through the storm. The storm had finally passed, as the glow of the early morning sun covered him and his love in a blanket of peace and contentment. Never had she looked so lovely as she did now, in his arms in the dawn of the day, their hearts beating as one, both of their hearts. He finally understood.
"You're my love. My love is alive." Angel spoke worshipfully.
Tears continued to fall from Cordelia's face, but her classic, wide smile never disappeared, "It seems my love is alive too, really alive."
He grinned and inhaled a much needed breath. They leaned into each other, pressing their lips together in a tender kiss that became a passionate one. It was just how it should be. How it was meant to be.
"Uh…I hate to interrupt, but can someone maybe get me a blanket?" Spike called out, his back pressed to the wall of the alley in the smallest bit of shade there was.
5 years later...
"You know, I realize that the Shanshu didn't erase all of your anti-social weirdness, but it wouldn't kill you to call our friends every now and then." Cordelia reprimanded her husband.
Angel smiled "Well, I know how much you love to talk, so I leave it to you. How is everyone we have ever met?"
"Haha very funny. I only called the people I thought were worthy of my time."
"So you didn't make any calls then?" He teased his wife.
Cordy scowled "You better watch it, mister. I'm mighty good with a broadsword."
Angel chuckled "Point taken. So give me the gossip."
Her eyes rolled "Well, Buffy and Spike are still in England. Apparently Dawn is doing amazing at Oxford. Of course Giles is proud. You remember how crazy he was about books and school and stuff. Oh but way more important news is that, Illyria and Gunn were finally able to free Wesley and Lilah from Wolfram and Hart Hell!"
Angel sighed in relief "Finally. Wes did not deserve Hell. But Lilah was freed?" he commented, only half seriously. He remembered what Lilah meant to his best friend.
Cordy nodded, "Apparently Wes insisted that they find a way to free her as well, which is good because I kind of feel responsible...since I'm the one that killed her and all."
He frowned and pulled her into his arms. "That wasn't you."
She exhaled and buried her face in his shoulder, "I know, but it still feels like it, you know?"
"I know." He replied, as he held her tightly.
"Mommy, Daddy! Look!" the little girl with long, brown ringlets, rounded face, and chestnut eyes called out.
Angel and Cordy broke apart to find their daughter, Hope, running toward them.
"What's this, baby?" Angel asked, pulling the paper out of his girl's hands.
It was a sloppy little drawing, but it was clear what it was. It was Hope's family. It was his family.
"It's me, you, Connor, and mommy. Do you like it?"
Seeing the way his sweet daughter captured their family, including her big brother Connor, whom she had wrapped around her tiny finger, brought the brightest smile to Angel's face.
"I love it. I'm going to keep it forever."
"Forever?!" Hope asked her father in awe.
He nodded "All my life."
Life was in fact beautiful when you have love and hope.