Wished: Wished
by KnightNumber3
This is my alternative ending to Season Two. The yellow disk was never found by the slayer gang, having been tossed out by a thorough janitor. A kid pulled it out of the dumpster to write his term paper on. He uploaded the restoration spell to his web site as lyrics to a goth song. Two verses, in English and archaic Romani.
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As dark as the night fell on Sunnydale, the skies were never conducive to stargazing. Even a one-Starbucks town came to be so full of strip malls, convenience stores, and arc-lit avenues as to blot out the sky with the noise of commerce. It was only when one got out as far as The Bluffs did the static fade and, with the right breeze, was the night close to the way it was...long before.

"There it is. The first star of the night." With this observation, a single candle was lit and threw lengthy shadows of four figures, sitting cross-legged in a circle with hands linked, into the gathering dark. Four voices chanted as one; softly at first, and then more intensely as the air around them grew restless. On their last words a hard gust blew out the flame, leaving the four in the deep blue of starlight, faces barely visible to each other.

"Okay. That went well. ...did it go well?" Buffy asked uncertainly. "I mean, it was my...wish. Does it matter that we all wished?"

"No, it, um, makes no difference...who you are." Giles ventured. "That is...forming the circle as we did, our combined efforts should have had a...a synergistic effect."

Xander spoke up. "And now your dreams come true. This doesn't mean I'm showing up in class naked again, does it?" Although his attempt to lighten the mood was welcome, no one laughed.

"*My* dream." Buffy murmured darkly. "I saw Angel. In my dream. Last night...and he had stopped killing. I don't care about anything else...this *has* to have worked. If I...could've..." Her words stuck in her throat.

Giles gave her hand a squeeze. "It's all right." he said gently. "You've done everything you could. Our only recourse now is...to wait."

"But, how will we know...for sure?" Willow asked, anxiety coloring her voice. "I mean, Ms. Calendar had said the soul-restoring spell was lost with the old ways. Do you really think a spell to give him a conscience is going to work?"

"Time will tell." Giles answered quietly. "There are, after all, many schools of thought that, um, equate the conscience...with the soul..." Looking up at the stars, he wondered aloud. "...It's just that I've never invoked the...Blue Fairy before..."


* * *
Weeks went by. There were vampires, but they were few and stragglers, easily staked. Could it be, the slayer hoped, that Angel had changed? She never saw him; saw no sign of his unique predations. Did the spell work? She hadn't seen him since...


* * *
"Breakfast." Angel grinned at the lone woman trotting down the sidewalk, intermittently framed by streetlamps. "Working late, running to make your date? Consider him stood up." He soundlessly glided up inches behind her...and a tiny umbrella rapped him on the side of his head.

"No, you don't!" a tiny voice piped inches from his ear. Angel faltered and groaned. "Aww, not *you* again!"

Breakfast disappeared in a startled canter.

Angel slumped in weary disgust. This was getting to be a regular routine.

"Now now, Angel!" the nattily dressed, anthropomorphized cricket on his shoulder gently scolded, wagging a reproachful finger. "We've had this talk before. If you don't stay on the straight and narrow, you'll never become a real live boy!"

Angel's mood actually worsened. "Real live...that does it. I'm selling you to a bait shop!"

"As your duly appointed conscience, I'll see that you don't." the cricket replied good-naturedly, adjusting his top hat. "Now cheer up, and we'll see about getting you a little something from the blood bank!"

"Great." Angel muttered. "Frozen food again. This is really getting old."

"You know, you really should consider going vegetarian..."

"That's it; I'm in hell."

END


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