EPILOGUE
Days later…
She stood beside Giles at Jenny's grave. She hadn't been strong enough, and Angelus had killed Jenny Calendar. Only the first, she knew. Part of his rage that she had revoked his invitation, ending the dance he wished to lead her. But she would get stronger, now. She had given up hope of Angel ever coming back to her. She would do her duty as a Slayer…
Weeks later…
She came back to herself in his arms, and for one shattering moment there was tenderness in his eyes, tenderness in the way he held her. He wasn't Angelus; not the creature enraged by her denial of him, and determined to kill her and her friends. He had to be…"Angel?" she whispered, needing so badly for it to be him, needing it with the whole force and weight of her bruised and battered soul. The ghosts had departed, their own dance done, and he recovered quickly…but not completely. Hatred was back in his eyes, but he did not reach to kill her, to drain her blood, to force his own blood into her mouth. He threw her away from him and fled down the hall of the school, leaving her gasping, hurting, broken behind him…with only the tiny seed of comfort…her beloved, her own Angel had indeed died forgiving her…
And after that…
She had the strength, now, and even the anger, because it was Angelus she fought, not Angel. He had said he would never go to Hell without her, and she was finally ready to send him there. She could drive the sword into him and keep the gate to Hell closed because her Angel was gone, his soul resting in the aether, and maybe, by fulfilling her sacred duty at such a terrible cost, she would earn just enough grace to join him there --Please God! Soon. Please don't make me wait to join him.-- She didn't have time for weakness. Her last attack had driven him to his knees, she raised the sword for the killing blow --
--and his eyes glowed golden, breath he did not need flooding his lungs in a gasp.
"Buffy," he said, and her shattered heart began to break all over again…
Months --a lifetime-- later…
She had done her duty, and kept the prom safe for her friends, and all of the kids who had never been her friends but who had shown her that they weren't as unaware or as uncaring as she had always thought. A little of the pain around her heart let go, as she laughed with Giles, who was as proud as any father of her accomplishment. Then his face changed as he looked at something behind her, and he spoke gently, taking her award. She turned, already guessing what she would see.
Her Angel came toward her, her dark and beautiful Angel who loved her so much he would leave her rather than keep her from the full life he felt she deserved and that he could never give her, leave her rather than risk turning into the monster who had hurt her so thoroughly, before. She could no longer argue with his choice, however much it lacerated her too-often wounded heart. But as she moved toward him, she was so grateful that he had come here for her tonight…
Until…
She remembered the dance he had forced from her as Angelus, and the next tender dance, when Angel had come to the Prom, even though they thought they could never, ever be together again. Buffy smiled, radiant, her heart whole and healed and full, the memories no longer able to hurt her, now that it was over, now that they were here. He smiled back, completely, happily, in a way that had only become possible for him in the past few months. He walked toward her as she, too buoyant with happiness to merely walk, floated toward him, until she was where she belonged, where she had always belonged, and would always belong: in his arms.
"Dance with me?" whispered her dark and beautiful Angel, sealed to her forever as their claddagh proclaimed, while the strains of an achingly sweet, achingly slow song drifted toward them.
"Always," Buffy whispered joyously back.
"Ladies and gentleman," the announcer told the guests, "Sharing their first solo dance, I give you the bride and groom."
The Beginning