Gone 2: Rome: Part Thirteen
by Bria
Typical disclaimer, please don't copy, and send me any kind of feedback, just remain civil!!
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Part Thirteen
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FAREWELL ROSE
Angel was dreaming again, but this time something was different, the dream was more urgent. They weren't in Rome any longer, they were back in Sunnydale and everyone was around him, Willow, Giles, Xander, even Cordelia. The strange thing was that they weren't paying any attention to him.
Glancing around curiously, Angel made his way over to the table in the middle of the stuffy library. Willow, sweet, naive Willow sat at the computer terminal, staring blankly at the screen, her soft red hair creating a curtain which hid half her face.
Beside her, Xander was munching on a granola bar, bobbing his head along with the music blasting out of his headphones. The somewhat obnoxious boy was also reading, which confirmed Angel's suspicion that this was a REALLY weird dream, but then he saw that the book was actually a comic book, which was somewhat comforting. Cordelia stood by the door, filing her already perfect nails while staring blankly out into space. Giles, the stuffy old librarian who'd watched over Buffy so fervently sat amidst his precious books, not noticing the rest of the world around him. Angel turned in a full circle, taking everything in.
When he turned back to Willow, Buffy was there, standing beside the glowing terminal. With her golden hair and beautiful face, she looked like his own namesake, a heavenly creature sent down to earth merely for him. Her bright blue eyes were filled with unshed, trembling tears as she stared with unfathomable sorrow at her red headed friend. She placed her small hand lightly on Willow's head, stroking her long hair softly. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against its redness in a farewell gesture, then stood slowly, as weighed down by invisible weights.
Angel tried to move towards her, but it seemed as if his limbs were barely moving. She took one last, long look around, taking in the sight of the truest friends she would ever find. Her mouth contorted slightly as she was grasped with grief. Then suddenly she was moving away again, traveling backwards, into the light again, going, going. . .
* * *
Angel sat up with a gasp, his instincts telling him something was wrong. He glanced around wildly, searching desperately for Buffy. Once again, she was gone from the bed, but this time she was nowhere in the room. His wakening senses told him that it was daylight and also that she was nowhere in the apartment. He belatedly looked to the window, then realized that Buffy had already closed the drapes, blocking out the deadly sunlight. Deadly to him, that is, not to her.
A flash of red caught his eye and he turned to discover the red rose he'd given Buffy and a letter with his name on it. He reached over and picked up the letter, leaving the rose on the pillow. He felt an illogical dread, as if his sub-conscious knew something he didn't.
His eyes scanned the neat writing, feeling his heart dying inside him with each word he read. His world was methodically torn into pieces as he tried to wrap his mind around the contents of the letter. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out, wanting to deny it. He felt the rage and sorrow building up inside him into a knot in his throat that finally tore out of his mouth in the form of a single, soul-ripping scream. Then he collapsed onto the bed and cried his first tears in eighty years.
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