They stood in the alley, staring at each other, not saying a word. The two were lovers, best friends, soulmates forever bound, and yet there were no words. In the past, there had been heartache and pain, complication and extenuating circumstances. One would think, too much to work through. But Buffy, even as she stared at the man who had hurt her more than anyone over the course of her very difficult life, she felt certain, somewhere in her body, certain that it would work out. When she looked at the man who stood across from her she felt loved, secure, and confident. But, at that particular moment, she felt an emotion that overrode all the others. Anger. It was hot, mean, bubbling and boiling inside of her, making it's way up past her throat, ready to lash out blindly at her love, her soulmate, the one.
"Buffy--" Angel began, but she cut him off.
"Don't say a word, Angel. Do not say one word." Buffy pushed herself up from where she'd been leaning against the wall and took a step towards him. "I'm going to do the talking."
Angel gave a short, curt nod, and backed down, as if to give her the floor.
Buffy stared at him, tears glistening in her eyes. "A son." She took a deep breath. "You have a son." She looked away, the tears now coming freely. "And I remember you distinctly telling me that you couldn't have children." Buffy laughed, but there was no trace of humour in it. "Well. Maybe I just wasn't the one."
Angel glanced at her. "Don't play those games with me Buffy. You know you've always been the one." His tone was disgusted, hurt.
"Whose is he then?" she asked, her voice breaking at the thought of someone else mothering Angel's child.
"Darla's," Angel murmured, his eyes turned to the ground, damp and cold.
Buffy's lips parted in surprise. "You killed her," she said.
"Wolfram and Hart brought her back." Angel looked at her. "It's a longer story that we won't get into now. But she's gone now. Again." He gave a nod and then once again averted his gaze.
"You slept with her?" Buffy inquired, shocked and upset.
Angel made no move to answer, which was an obvious confession.
Buffy sighed. Tossing her blonde hair, which was streaked with dirt and matted with blood, she spoke again. "We won," she said. Angel looked at her. "We won the fight." She nodded. "Yeah. We lost some good ones, along the way. Anya's gone. Forever." She glanced at Angel. "And Spike. Is... he gave himself. For the world."
Angel shook his head. "Not for the world." Buffy stared at him, waiting for him to continue. "For you." He smiled sadly.
Suddenly, sobs began to wrack Buffy's small and tired body. "It was so hard, Angel. It was so hard! You were the only one that ever understood."
Angel collected her into his strong arms, and she collapsed into them, feeling that sense of security flooding her, letting the anger float away on the breeze.
"You won, Buffy. The First is defeated." He stroked her hair, resting his chin on the top of her head, letting their two bodies fit together.
Buffy pushed away from him. "Not this fight. All of them. The past seven years of my life. So hard. So much pain. Too much pain."
Angel's face melted In silent realization. He pulled her back to his chest, feeling her tears seep through his shirt to the skin. He felt each one as if it burned. "You've been so strong. But it's all over now. It's your turn to live, Buffy. It's what I've wanted for you, all along. And you have it, now, and I've never been so proud." She didn't see, but he was smiling through his own tears.
"Angel?" she whispered.
"Yes?"
"Let's go home."
Angel smiled wider. "Yes. Let's go home."
"But Angel," Buffy said, as his arm wrapped itself around her. "I'm really gonna have to hear more about Connor, because, wow, am I confused."
As they left the darkened alley, as they left their horrible past behind, and headed into the bright streets of LA at night, they felt a profound sense of completion. They weren't finished, not yet. She wasn't because of the fact that she was twenty three, still a child in most people's eyes. The world was at her fingertips, and she had yet to grab it, hold it in her palm and experience for all it was worth. He wasn't because he had a prophecy to live out, and people to save. But they were one step closer, at the very least.
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