DISCLAIMER: See specifics in Part I. No infringement on the copyrights owned by Mr. Whedon, the WB, Fox, Mutant Enemy, Sand Dollar Productions much less any of the brilliant writers associated with BtVS and Ats.

RATING: NC-17

SPOILERS: Rumored ending for season four.

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by
Margot Le Faye

Smiling, It lifted Its hand, and a bolt of pure energy headed toward the pair…who rolled in separate directions, avoiding the bolt. The First frowned, more annoyed than worried. "You can't keep dodging the bullet," It said, raising Its other hand and shooting out two bolts at once. Vampire and Slayer managed another dodge, both ending up behind an outcropping of rock. Angel wasted no time, grabbing Buffy's hand.

"Stop it!" she hissed, trying to pull her hand free. Prepared, he simply tightened his grip and began shoving the claddagh onto her ring finger, the heart pointing toward her. "Stubborn wench," he snarled back. "I swear I'm going to protect you forever if it kills both of us!"

Buffy's eyes flashed in anger. The feel of the silver was achingly familiar, as if it had not been thirteen years since she had taken it from her hand, only one day after he had given it to her. Part of her wanted to hold the ring to her heart, and never remove it again. But another part wanted to rip it off and stuff it down Angel's throat.

Not an option, right now.

"Don't argue," he growled handing her his and holding out his hand expectantly. She glared at him, just as a bolt of energy took off the top of their shelter. Ducking, Buffy snatched his hand and pushed the ring onto his finger.

"Guess I'm gonna protect you right back," she groused. A second bolt took out the rest of the outcrop, but Angel had rolled with her again, shielding her body with his own, taking the diffuse edge of the blast…which singed his duster and left the disturbing scent of charred leather in the air.

"That was too close," Buffy hissed. "We have to take the battle to It." Angel nodded agreement, and as ever, their synchronicity helped them do what had to be done.

The emerged at either end of the cavern, so that the First Evil would have to divide Its attention between them. The First laughed in delight.

"You didn't think that was the only weapon I had, did you?" It purred. "For two such preternatural beings as yourselves? Oh, no, nothing but the best preternatural weapons money could buy--not that I have any use for money, but you get the point. Nothing but the best for you two.

"Gee, you really shouldn't have bothered," Buffy said, circling in closer, ready to spring away if she needed to. She saw out of the corner of her eye that Angel was doing the same.

The First seemed unconcerned. "It's amazing, but despite all the changes in technology down through the millennia--with metal forging and magic swords and silver bullets and split atoms--the best way to take out a vampire is still with a sharpened piece of wood. You probably don't realize this, because it happens so quickly, but different kinds of wood have different effects on vampires. Stake them with one kind, and they feel no pain, they just explode. Stake them with another, and the few seconds they have left are spent in the most exquisite agony as their hearts burn up inside them. You can guess my preference in all this, can't you? Oak and ash are best, although there's something to be said for Rowan."

"I prefer Mr. Pointy," Buffy said, eyes narrowing as the First allowed her to move closer. "Gets the job done."

"So will this," the First said, as It lifted a spear into Its hand, and stood up from Its throne. "Silver can't really hurt vampires, but it makes the entrance easier. So that the three woods that went into making this thing can all do their part."

"That's your weapon?" Buffy smirked. "Oh, please. I can snatch it out of the air before it gets anywhere near Angel's heart."

"You know, I just bet you could," the First agreed pleasantly. "If it were just an ordinary spear, your Slayer reflexes would probably be enough to blow all my plans out of the water." Its voice hardened, the stolen features of Jenny Calendar twisting in anger. "Pay attention, little girl. Preternatural weapons. Once this thing is aimed, no force between heaven and hell can stop it from driving through the heart. It will ignore stone and steel, flesh and bone, until it tastes heart's blood…which it is going to do right now." It drew Its arm back for the throw.

So, this is how it ends, Buffy thought, oddly calm, as Angel straightened and stepped forward, almost as if he welcomed an end to his bitter existence. She hated him so much, she could only be glad….

The First brought Its arm forward, sending the spear flying straight and true.

Except that Buffy was Slayer quick, quicker even than ensorcelled silver, and in the split second between the First Evil drawing back Its arm and hurling the spear, Buffy had come face to face with what it would really mean to her to watch Angel die again, and why it was she hated him so fiercely.

In an instant…

She was a step away from him, and it was the easiest thing in the world to simply step in front of him and present the spear with another target, another heart's blood to taste…

And seeing her do it, realizing that her hatred of him never had been and never would be as strong as her love, the last of his own hatred evaporated like steam from a hot grill and he screamed her name in protest, moving forward, trying to lift her and hurl her out of the way…

…which was how the spearhead pierced both hearts at once, carrying Buffy's living human blood into Angel's undead heart, and allowing his own unliving blood to seep into hers.

In an instant…

Why didn't you ever tell me about chocolate and peanut butter? Buffy's eyes widened, the pain of returning memory outweighing the merely physical pain of the silver piercing her heart.

The rush of blood from both wounds quickened, as the memories Angel had carried in his blood were restored to Buffy.

The spear still transfixed them, they could not have pulled apart from each other, and they, who had been broken apart by a misguided curse and foolish misunderstanding fostered by a malevolent will, were bound together once more.

Angel groaned softly. He had been too late to save Buffy, too late to save either of them, and he had allowed the last few years of their lives to be wasted in bitterness. Giles had warned him, had told him how deeply he regretted not having forgiven Jenny earlier, had missed the chance to reconcile with her. Angel was on the verge of missing his chance, too, and he understood, suddenly, what the female Oracle had meant. She had been referring to the same play, the same speech, Giles had quoted. Portia, in The Merchant of Venice: "The quality of mercy is not strained, but falleth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath…"

"Oh, God, Buffy, I'm so sorry," Angel said.

She could not turn to see him, but she could hear in his voice, could feel in the way his body curved around hers, as if to offer comfort and protection, the way his arms came up to gently wrap around her waist, to enfold her in his restored and renewed love. He had forgiven her, as she now forgave him.

"I'm sorry, too" she told him, her face wet with tears. "I love you, so much."

"I love you, too."

She had been invincible, winning every battle she had ever fought, despite the price of desperate pain and heartache she had all too often paid for her triumphs. He had been immutable, unchanging since the moment Darla's blood infected him two and a half centuries before. And in stepping before the spear, the Invincible had come to the aid of the Immutable.

The conditions of the prophecy had been met. Now, the consequences could unfold. The First Evil, seeing what was about to happen began screaming in utterly impotent rage.

New vampires were made in the exchange of blood, but Angel was no ordinary vampire, and neither he nor Buffy had fed from the other. And they had once again exchanged their claddagh, rings which had been blessed by priests performing the sacrament of marriage thrice before. As their blood commingled, his did not dominate and change her. Instead, their natures commingled: altering, synchronizing, blending.

He felt his heart beat.

"Buffy…"

She could feel it, too, a strong, sudden rhythm in the body behind her. Tears of pain became tears of joy. And spent, the mystic weapon pinning them together began to dissolve in the mystic marriage of their blood.

Not until it was gone did they realize that the change was working both ways. Buffy gasped as she felt the spearhead dissolve, looked down at the ruin of her blouse to see the impossible, her wound closing over the gaping hole in her breast. The First was a howling wreck twisting in fury on Its throne. Buffy ignored It, concerned with more important matters. She turned in the circle of her lover's arms, looking up into his face, seeing both his love for her and his confusion at what was happening.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. The spear didn't go all the way through me. The silver head pierced my heart, but the wooden shaft was in yours. That's why I'm not dust. Now…I feel my heart beat…but it's not like the last time, with the Mohra demon. I don't think I'm alive."

"But your heart is beating," she said.

"And your wound has healed," he agreed. "But you didn't die, either. You aren't a vampire. You still have your soul.

"Invincibility immutability trading," she murmured.

"What?"

"Lines from the prophecy. I think…you got my invincibility and I got your immutability."

"Wow," he said. He stood still for a moment, as a thousand implications flashed across his mind. Then, for the first time since the day that had been swallowed by the Oracles, which had been the first time since some long-forgotten moment in his living childhood, Angel laughed wholeheartedly and happily, picking Buffy up and spinning with her in his arms.

"You do realize what this means, don't you?" he said when he finally put her down.

"That we are both virtually immortal and invincible and we get to live happily ever after?" she said hopefully.

"Forever and ever," he promised.

"Oh, good," she said. "I can live with that."

"Live!" shrieked the First, furious that not only had the two before It foiled Its plans again, but they had totally ignored It and the infinite power It still wielded. "You will die soon, slow and in suffering!" It threw another bolt of pure energy at the couple before It, a bolt that would incinerate any human or vampire in its path.

Buffy and Angel had been too preoccupied with each other to escape this time. They couldn't get out of the way in time, and rocked backward at the force of the blow…getting their balance again a moment later as the energy dissipated harmlessly around them.

Buffy grinned up at her lover.

"Yep. Immortal and invincible."

The First Evil screamed Its rage once more. Pointing both hands at the lovers, it began to chant. Buffy did not like the looks of the ugly orange glare beginning to build around It. Neither did Angel. They looked around the cavern. Angel grinned wolfishly as his eyes lit on a stalagmite broken off in one of the First's attacks on them. He grabbed it, stood and aimed it at the First's heart with the power of his considerable vampiric strength behind the throw. Buffy caught on quickly, found another heavy shard of stone and did the same thing. Before either missal could find its mark, however, the First realized what was happening. The glare surrounding It abruptly dissipated as It broke off Its chant, howling in renewed, utterly impotently, fury.

The First Evil disappeared in a blast of fire.

"You know," Buffy sighed, "we really are going to have to do something about that thing."

"Track It to Its native dimension and destroy It, huh?" Angel agreed.

"Sounds like a plan," Buffy said not at all bothered by the prospect of going into the demon dimension of Hell now that she had Angel back, and both of them were stronger than they had ever been before. Another recently restored memory surfaced, and the last piece of the prophecy fell into place.

"Angel? Do you remember what the Mohra demon told us? That together we were invincible, apart we were dead?"

"I remember every moment of that day," he told her solemnly.

"So do I, now," she smiled at him, a little sadly. "But the thing is, I think that's what the prophecy means. Then invincible restored is immutable ever more."

"Now that we've forgiven each other, and we've exchanged rings, now that we are together again, we are invincible again" he said slowly. "And our love is immutable, this time. It will never change."

"It's for always," she whispered. "But then, even when we hated each other, wasn't it just because we loved each other so much?"

"Of course. We couldn’t have hurt each other so much if we didn't love each other more."

"I'm glad we got through this," she said, moving closer into his arms.

"Me too, my love, me too." Angel held her tightly, almost afraid to let go.

It was a long time before they moved apart…just far enough to walk out of the chamber hand in hand.

They called Giles from Buffy's apartment. Everyone was at the former Watcher's, including Joyce. The entire gang was very concerned, and wanted to see Angel and Buffy right away.

"Not tonight," Buffy said firmly. "Angel and I have things to talk over."

"But the prophecies--"

"We'll explain tomorrow," she interrupted. "Tell everyone to go home and get some rest. Really. Everything's fine."

"If you're sure," Rupert said doubtfully. Buffy lifted her gaze to drink in the sight of Angel, returning her gaze as he leaned casually against the doorframe of her dining room a few feet away. He had retrieved his shirt on their way out of the ruined school building, and, the holy water having long since dried, had been able to put it back on. For someone who had just survived a life-and-death battle with one of the most ruthless evils ever to haunt the world, he looked very good. And he was looking at Buffy as if he might be thinking that the same was true of her.

"I'm very, very sure, Giles" she said softly, then hung up.

Her hand rested for a moment on the phone. She was alone with Angel for the first time in one year. Alone, with their most recent battle won and nothing else demanding their immediate attention. And for the first time in far, far too long, she was sure of her feelings for him, and of his for her.

Mostly.

Oh, she knew she loved him, and that he loved her. But the love was not unmixed with pain. She remembered their lost day. That alone was worth a small lake of tears. She remembered how much it had hurt when he told her what he had done, her despair when she realized they had only seconds left before he reverted, her utter terror and renewed anger when she understood that even her memories of their precious day together would be stolen from her. She had swallowed the anger, their last few seconds together too important to waste in bitterness, but she had resented that he had made one more decision for her. He wanted her to live, even at the price of their love. She wanted their love, even at the price of her life.

She had been angry when she returned from LA. At the time, she thought it was because he hadn't told her he was in Sunnydale when he came to protect her. Looking back now, Buffy realized that part of her anger was rooted in some deeply buried awareness of the lost day. And in her pain. Because she had desperately wanted to keep hold of her memories, to have at least that comforting ray of light in what would be the darkness of her life without Angel. But she had failed him, failed both of them. She hadn't been able to hold on, to remember the appalling, selfless sacrifice he had made for her. A memory that would surely have insulated her from the machinations of the First Evil.

Instead, she had fallen all too easily into a clever, vicious trap. Over the past eleven years, she and Angel had hurt each other so much. Now, it was easy to see how the First Evil had influenced them, getting into their minds with Its insidious distortions of the truth, twisting their feelings out of true. And yet part of her felt so guilty. She should have known. From the very first, she should have known that Angel would never do anything to hurt her, and she should have held back her own anger long enough to ask why she wanted to hurt the man who had been the center of her entire existence. She hadn't and for eleven years, evil had run their lives. The attacks had been so subtle, she hadn't even known they were happening. Could they ever be that vulnerable again? She shuddered at the thought.

He was beside her in an instant.

"What's wrong?" he said softly, hands closing comfortingly on her upper arms. She looked up at him, and saw in his deep brown eyes the love and concern he felt for her. It was too much. This was the way it was supposed to be between them, the way it hadn't been between them for eleven long years.

"I'm sorry!" she found herself sobbing, throwing herself into his arms and burrowing into the solid, dependable bulwark of his chest, tears pouring out of her as she was immediately wrapped in his embrace, given the comfort denied her for so very, very long. "I'm sorry I didn't remember! I'm so sorry I hurt you! I should have known. I should have remembered, I--"

"Shhh," he soothed, "You weren't meant to remember, Buffy." She only cried harder.

"I know that! But I didn't want to forget. And you shouldn't have, you shouldn't have…" she broke down completely, unable to say more. Angel lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Still holding her, he sat on the bed, and stretched out, resting against the headboard and settling Buffy across his lap.

"I had to, Buffy. There was no choice for me. There never was, when it came to you. Your life was a price I couldn't possibly pay for our happiness. It would have done more than kill me, it would have obliterated me, destroyed my soul and tuned the amends I had been trying to make into a mockery. How could I ask forgiveness for my sins, if I compounded them by willingly allowing the Chosen One to sacrifice herself?"

"It was my right to make that choice!" she sobbed.

"And my right to see that you didn't have to," he told her gravely.

"It wasn't fair!" she insisted.

"Life seldom is," he told her wryly. "And if our lives were ordinary, I'd say that the past eleven years were more unfairness than anyone should have to put up with. But they aren't ordinary. We've been given something most people never get, Buffy; a second chance, and all the time we need to make it right again."

"But I hurt you so much," she wept. "What I said, what I did…How can you forgive me?"

"How did you forgive me for Angelus?" he countered. "That was far worse. I can forgive you because I love you. And because I'm not completely without blame."

"But--"

"It's over, my love, it's all over."

"Is it?" she sniffled. "We didn't kill the First Evil, Angel. And we didn’t even realize what it was doing, not for years!"

"We know now," Angel said firmly. "It can't attack us that way, again, Buffy."

"We don't know that. It's so old, Angel, and so strong, and--"

"And we've been eating old, strong things for breakfast, together and apart, for years. According to the prophecies, we both just got a whole heck of a lot stronger ourselves," Angel said as he rubbed her back soothingly, not trying to stop her tears so much as offer support while she got things out of her system. "I vowed to protect you tonight. Protect you forever. This thing nearly took you from me once, and then it made our lives hell for eleven years. I owe it. Big time. I will not let it ever hurt you again."

She pulled away from where she had been sobbing into his chest, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Promise?" she asked wistfully.

"I swear," he said. He smiled ruefully, before giving her a tender kiss. "No more tears, my love. This isn't the way I want to spend our anniversary."

"Anniversary?" she questioned, wiping away the lingering tears with the back of her hand. "You mean, the anniversary of the first time we made love?"

"That too," he said agreeably. He was relaxed and confident. The things he hadn't told her about the claddagh on her seventeenth birthday, because he thought she was too young, were long overdue for an explanation now. He pulled her back into his arms, so that her head rested against his shoulder and he could drop the occasional kiss on her brow. Quietly, as her tears dried and she grew calm again, he explained the ancient traditions, telling her how he had found these particular rings, and what the shopkeeper had told him of their history.

"So, you married me?" she said. He was relieved to hear just a tinge of humor in her voice.

"Not legally," he said. "But in my heart, when I gave you that ring, I pledged myself to you forever."

"And you did it again, tonight," she said. He smiled at her tone. She was definitely happy, now. Then he realized that although the obvious barriers to their being together were finally down there were still obstacles to be overcome.

"Yes. I did. But…"

"But? There's a 'but'?" Buffy sat up in his lap, pouting. "After everything else, how can there be a 'but'?"

"I'm just not sure how easy it's going to be to find a church with a priest who will willingly perform a wedding mass for a vampire," he said simply.

Buffy was very, very still as she digested that statement.

"Wedding mass?"

"I am going to marry you in church, Buffy Summers. In front of God and His congregation. For the entire world to see. This time, when we make our vows, I want them consecrated and witnessed and backed up by the full might of Holy Mother Church, with no possible misunderstanding." His arms had tightened around her gradually as he spoke, as if to add weight to his declaration.

"Sounds heavenly," she sighed, lifting her face for his kiss.

It had been much too long since they had shared a kiss like that, full of tenderness, and love, an unbridled expression of all that was in their hearts. Much too long since they had been able to come together in complete joy, with no misunderstandings between them. It saddened Angel to realize that in the past four years since they'd become lovers again, the passion between them had been so tainted by bitterness, that he could truthfully say that he had only made love to the woman he loved three times: their first night together, the day he had given up for her, and on her twenty-ninth birthday. Each time had been achingly beautiful. And each time had ended in heartbreak.

No more. The Fates had relented, The Powers That Be had finally ended the torment. Buffy and Angel could be together the way they had wanted to be from the moment they met. And now, there was nothing to hold them back, nothing to get in the way, nothing to keep them from falling asleep in each other's arms every night and waking in each other's arms every morning.

Nothing to keep them from loving each other forever.

He kissed her with fierce joy, reveling in the sweet taste of her…

…until he tasted, as well, the unexpected salt of her tears.

A hot, damp stream trickled from her eyes, over her cheeks, to their joined mouths. So much bitterness. So much pain. Angel's heart ached for his beloved.

"It's all right," he whispered between kisses. "It's over." More kisses. "I'll never let It hurt you again."

"I know," she whispered back. But he heard in her voice…he hadn't quite soothed away all her pain. He had vowed, only a few hours before, to protect her for the rest of their lives. That vow, he realized now, must encompass more than demons and monsters, the evils that sought her life. Some things were more precious even than life itself. Angel broke off their kisses, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, to let her see in his eyes the truth of the words he was about to speak, the depth of his meaning, all that was in his heart. Her hazel eyes, luminous with tears, stared as somberly back. He smiled tenderly down at her.

"I love you. In over two hundred and fifty years, I have only ever loved one woman, you. Should I go on for another two hundred and fifty, should I go on until the world ends and the last star burns out and time itself ceases to be…I will only ever love you. Death cannot change that. The First Evil could not, cannot change that. Forever, my love."

"Forever," she whispered back, her tears drying and a soft smile curving her lips. "I love you so much..."

They kissed again, sealing the promise held in their hearts: the promise of love forever true.

The covenant between them was sacred, and all consuming. A kiss could only be a symbol of the covenant, not a consummation.

The time had come to move beyond symbols. He gently turned, so that they lay side by side on the bed, still kissing joyously. There was no need for hurry. Though it had been a year since their last joining, there was no urgency. This was not a mere hunger of the flesh, not an appetite that needed sating or an itch that needed scratching. This was the long-awaited union of their bodies and souls, with no holding back. There were no more secrets, no more doubts, no more misunderstandings. Only the Slayer and her Sworn Shield, only Buffy and Angel, only a woman and her One True Love, making that love physical and real and tangible.

FEMFIC      PART 9    PART 11  FEEDBACK

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