Full Circle

Buffy reappeared only a second later in a deserted alleyway. “Crap!” she grumbled, annoyed that she had inadvertently teleported to the wrong location. She slowly turned, taking in her unfamiliar surroundings. Tall buildings surrounded her on three sides, the chipped brick walls covered in rather vulgar graffiti depicting lewd and perverted sexual acts. Disgusted by the display, she closed her eyes, and deeply inhaled the much warmer California air. She picked up the faint scent of Illyria.

Knowing that she wasn’t too far from her daughter, she started toward the opening in the alley when a group of fighter jets buzzed overhead, startling the Vala Queen. She caught herself only a second before she was about to use her magics to strike down the military aircraft. Buffy had become so accustomed to the peace and tranquility of Folkvang that she perceived the sudden roaring sound as a threat. Since her return to Endor, any loud noises or explosions had been brought about at her provocation, and she had long prepared herself for the predictable blasts or whatnot that soon followed.

Dressed in black leather pants and a red cowl neck sweater, the Slayer continued down the darkened alleyway, going over in her mind what she’d say to her firstborn, once reunited. With Illyria now in her thoughts, she paid no heed to her immediate surroundings. The toe of her boot hit an empty Coke can, sending the container rolling noisily along the street.

Not a second later, a van came to a screeching halt at the opening of the alley. The doors swung or slid open as a group of young men came barreling out of the vehicle, brandishing axe handles and metal pipes.

A bright beam of light temporarily blinded Buffy. She shielded her eyes until they could adjust to the sudden brightness.

“Yo! We gots us a lawbreaker here, man!” shouted one.

“Bitch is breakin’ fuckin’ curfew!” proclaimed another gleefully.

When the Slayer’s eyes had adjusted to the spotlight, she peered through her partially closed eyes to see that the young men had formed a barricade at the intersection of the two streets.

“Whadda we got here?” said one, possibly the leader, who stepped forward out of the line, slapping the pipe he clutched in one hand against the open palm of the other in a threatening gesture. “You lost, little girl?” he asked, as the others gruffly laughed, making crude comments.

Buffy was not intimidated. She continued forward toward the group of thugs. “I’m looking for my daughter,” she answered. “Have you seen her? She’s about so high,” she raised her hand several inches above her head, indicating the height of Illyria, “Has brown and blue hair… ”

“Blue hair!” snickered the leader incredulously. “What the fuck you talkin’ about? You on the pipe?”

“Pipe?” repeated the Slayer. “Oh, no. I gave that up millennia ago.”

“What the hell’s that bitch talkin’ about?” queried another one of the comrades.

“Let’s get on with it and fuck that ho.”

“Now, now,” started the Vala Queen, her eyes scanning the nine young men attempting to encircle her. “You boys best mosey along before someone gets hurt,” she suggested, amused by the whole situation.

“You’re the only one gonna be hurtin’,” answered the leader, only a few feet separating him and the Slayer. He grabbed his crotch. “My dick’s gonna have you screamin’ in pain, bitch.”

Buffy stopped, bending slightly as the others looked on with bewildered expressions on their faces. She eyed the leader’s crotch. “Hell, my son’s pee pee was bigger than that when he was born.”

“Ooh!” sounded several of the youths at the Valië’s insult.

“You gonna let that ho talk to you like that, T?”

“Fuck her up!” demanded one of his cohorts.

The others egged on their leader, T, telling him that he needed to “teach the ho a lesson”.

“You asked for it, bitch!” he sneered, raising the metal pipe over his head. As his companions cheered, the hoodlum swung his weapon at the Slayer.

Buffy moved so fast that the others didn’t know what the hell had happened. She grabbed a tight hold of the thug’s wrist and did a somersault over her shoulder, snapping his elbow.

The leader of the gang fell to his knees, crying out, “Fuck!” at the top of his lungs, as the others stood there, momentarily stunned.

Standing behind the hooligan, the Slayer still clutched the guy’s wrist with her hand. “I told you someone would get hurt.” With her other arm, she grabbed hold of the guy’s neck, jerking it until it cracked.

“God damn! She’s fuckin’ killed T!” shouted one of the hooligans, watching as the Slayer pushed the leader’s lifeless body to the ground.

“Get her!” screamed another, leading the attack against the Vala Queen.

All at once, the remaining eight charged the Slayer.

Perhaps it was instinct, but Buffy changed as she defended herself against the gang. Her mystical raiment replaced her clothing, providing her with an armor that no weapon could damage. Unlike earlier, streaks of red appeared in her golden hair, and on parts of her skin, particularly her forehead.

“Holy shit! She’s one of them voodoo witches or something,” said one, backing out of the fray.

“Just kill the bitch!” shouted another, not caring one bit what their victim was or looked like.

As the brawl got underway, a few of the thugs managed to get a strike in, although the results were not at all what they had expected. Their weapons bounced off the Slayer’s armor, sending jolts of pain though their limbs.

To the Valië, this was a fight to the death, and she did manage to kill quite a few of the hoodlums. A simple act, like a punch, broke through her foe’s skin, tissue and bone, killing him instantly, or slowly, depending on where she had struck.

“Fuck this!” said one of the troublemakers when he saw yet another one of his friends go down. He started to flee the alley when another young thug, pulled out his 9mm and fired a round in Buffy’s direction.

Everyone stopped at the sound.

Buffy faced the hooligan, who was now aiming his weapon between her eyes.

“I don’t know what the fuck you are, bitch, but you gonna die.” He pulled the trigger, repeatedly, sending dove after dove into the air. “What the fuck?!” he exclaimed, puzzled that the bullets had turned into birds with each pull of the trigger.

A couple others then pulled their guns from the back of their waistbands of their pants and attempted to shoot the Slayer. Each one experienced the same thing: sending doves at the Valië until they had emptied their magazines.

Smiling broadly, the Slayer then said, “My turn.” Forming her fingers into a “gun”, she pointed her forefinger “barrel” at the leader. Pulling back on her “trigger” she said, “Bang!” as an invisible bullet hit the hooligan, leaving a gaping hole in his back. “Hollow point,” she snickered, as the guy fell to the ground.

“Shit!” exclaimed the last few in unison after witnessing that.

They made a beeline out of there. The Slayer pointed her finger at the fleeing men, shooting each down, one by one until only one remained. She shot out the legs of the last hoodlum, watching as he dropped to the street, attempting to pull himself along with his arms.

Blowing the tip of her smoking finger, she casually started down the alley, stepping on the bodies of the dead as she did so. When she had reached the survivor, she stomped one of his hands, crushing it beneath her foot.

The thug let out an ear-piercing shriek, sounding very much like a girl. If only his friends had heard, but alas, only the Vala Queen was there to hear it.

With her other foot, she rolled the hooligan over. “See what happens when you fuck with someone for no reason,” she rebuked. “I’ve destroyed whole countries, wiped out entire civilizations. I am death, destruction, absolute.” She then raised her foot, bringing it down upon the thug’s face, shattering his skull. “Yuck!” she groaned, looking at the blood and guts that now covered both her hands and feet. “Why does killing have to be so messy?”

She went over to the still idling van, hoping that there would be something inside with which to wipe herself clean. Seeing a purple hoody on one of the seats, Buffy grabbed that, wiping what was left of the hooligans off her body.

She then took off down the street, surprised to see no signs of life despite the fact that she was in the heart (or bowels) of Los Angeles. Everything was dark, including the buildings. The United States, much like other parts of the world, was experiencing roaming brownouts due to the high cost of electricity and a deteriorating infrastructure. The state government had decided that nighttime was an ideal time to save on their energy usage, cutting off the electricity when the citizens were most vulnerable to vampires and other beastly creatures that preyed upon innocents at darkness. Several blocks away a feeding frenzy was taking place, something that the Vala Queen wasn’t about to concern herself with.

The Slayer walked a couple of blocks. She stopped when she came to a contemporary four story brick and dark tinted glass building. The bullet-riddled sign out front read, ‘Washington Mutual Bank’, which had gone defunct during the banking crash several years before. It was now the home of Angel Investigations, and her daughter, Illyria.

As she started up the concrete walkway, her body reverted back to its humanly form. She was dressed in the same clothing she had been wearing when accosted by the thugs in the alley. When she reached the double doors out front, she pulled one open, entering a large sterile looking lobby. A few oil lamps burned on the long counter that stretched across the back of the room, where the bank tellers had formerly carried out their duties.

“Hello!” her voice echoed within the sparsely furnished lobby. “Any body home?”

There was no answer. It seemed obvious to Buffy that the “team” was out, most likely fighting some menacing demon taking advantage of the never-ending darkness and its vulnerable people.

Deciding to wait for her friends to return, she strolled across the white polished marble floor to the desk behind the counter. She took a seat in the most comfortable looking chair, rifling through the numerous papers and books strewn about.

After several minutes, the Slayer grew bored. She was restless, unable to sit still any longer. She began to wander around the first floor of the structure, ending up in the massive vault. There, she saw many of Angel’s most prized possessions - weapons, ancient scrolls and texts, and a few talismans that appeared to be centuries old. She inspected the weapons, in particular, wielding various axes and blades to help pass the time.

It must have been an hour or so later, when she heard boisterous voices coming from the lobby. She crept out of the vault, listening to what sounded like Gunn ribbing Spike.

“What are you talking about? I saved your ass back there,” laughed Gunn.

“I saw ‘em coming,” answered Spike. “I just thought I’d let you have a go at him. You know, to help your self-esteem and all.”

“Man, you’re such a liar. Why can’t you just man up and admit that I saved your sorry butt?”

“What do you want from me - my groveling gratitude?” Spike shot back.

“That’s a start,” answered the young man with a chuckle.

The vampire lit a cigarette, and stepped up to Gunn, stopping inches from his face. He blew a stream of smoke into the man’s face. “Cheers, mate!” he answered in mocked enthusiasm, slapping Gunn on the shoulder. “Appreciate you coming to my aid back there. I think we’re even, now.”

“Even?” coughed the young man, waving the smoke from his face. “What the hell are you talking about - even?”

Before Spike could respond, Buffy said, “Gentlemen, please, you sound like an old married couple.”

They both slowly turned their heads toward her voice, a look of shock on both their faces.

“Oh… my… God,” said a stunned Spike, the cigarette falling from between his fingers.

“Buffy!” proclaimed Gunn. “You’re back!”

She smiled. “Hey guys,” she replied, stepping around the long counter.

Spike rushed over to her, stopping a foot or so before her. With his head cocked slightly to the side, he gave her the once over. “We thought you were dead,” he said, the words nearly catching in his throat. He awkwardly reached out to give her a hug, pausing midway.

Wanting to put the souled vampire at ease, Buffy stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around him. “It’s so good to see you again.” She pulled out of the embrace. “The both of you.” She then gave Gunn at hug.

“Where’ve you been?” asked the young man. “Don’t tell me you’ve been summoned from the great beyond, again.”

She chuckled. “Sort of, in a way.”

“I bet witchy Willow’s been making with the mojo again - pulling you out of some heavenly realm,” proposed Spike.

“I’m impressed,” answered the Slayer, nodding her head. “You’ve pretty much hit the nail on the head.”

“Yeah, well, the Scoobies are a predictable bunch. Never come up with anything new,” replied Spike with a shake of his head. “So, how long have you been back?”

“Yeah,” chimed in Gunn. “You’re here to help us fight these badass demons that are calling the shots around here.”

Buffy folded her arms across her chest. “I’m afraid not. I’ve come to gather the Elect, and then I’m outta here.”

“The Elect?” repeated Spike with a puzzled expression on his face. “What Elect? What are you talking about, Slayer?”

“God, doesn’t any one read the Good Book any more?” she answered, rolling her eyes.

“The Good Book. You mean The Bible?” suggested Gunn.

“Bingo! Two points for the young black man. Or is it African-American? I haven’t kept up with the current vernacular of Man.”

Gunn looked strangely at the Slayer, unsure how to respond to her comments.

“They like to be called Dark Chocolate nowadays,” said Spike in feigned seriousness.

“Huh? Really?” answered Buffy, actually believing the vampire. “Hmm, I’ll have to make a mental note of that.”

Gunn gave a quick shake of his head, thinking that Buffy’s blondeness was finally showing itself. “Let’s get back on topic here,” he said. “What does The Bible have to do with what’s going on, and who the heck are the Elect?”

The Vala Queen fixed her gaze on the young man. “What do you think’s happening in the world? You think this is merely World War III?” She shook her head. “This is more, this is… ”

“Armageddon,” said Spike, finishing her sentence. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? The End of the World and all that.”

Buffy sighed heavily as her hands slid to her hips. “Don’t you people know your Bible? Armageddon is a place. A place!” She sighed in frustration yet again. “Yeah, but that pretty much sums it up.”

“You mean this is the End of the World?!” exclaimed Gunn in dismay.

“In a way, yes,” she answered matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” answered the mortal sadly, looking down at his feet.

“It’s not a bad thing, Charles,” said the Slayer in a cheerful voice. “It’s a good thing. Evil will be ridden from the world once and for all. Mankind gets a second chance.”

“And what about us vampires? Do we get a second chance too?” asked Spike anxiously.

“I’m afraid not,” replied the Valië. “Vampires fall under the category of demons, and all demons are to be… you know, um... er… ” Buffy wasn’t too keen to finish that sentence.

“Killed,” answered Gunn softly. “They’re all gonna be killed.” He turned his gaze to Spike, a mischievous grin coming to his face. “Looks like you’re not long for this world, bud. Been nice knowing you.”

Spike muttered, “Figures,” as he pulled a pack of Marlboro’s from the pocket of his leather duster. “I knew my time would come sooner or later.” He pulled out a cigarette and shoved it between his lips, lighting it with that same butane lighter he always carried with him. The vampire took a long draw of his smoke before slowly exhaling. “Well, this is one vamp who’s not gonna go out with a whimper.” He locked his eyes on Buffy. “So how ‘bout it, Slayer, up for one last shag before the end of the world?”

“Ew, no,” she said with a sneer.

“Well, don’t act all high and mighty, love,” he answered defensively. “There was a time when you begged for it! If I recall correctly, you used to love it when I… ”

“Shut up, Spike. I didn’t come all this way to hear your, your crap,” she spat, revolted at the thought that she had ever had sex with the vampire. She shuddered as she turned away, putting some distance between them.

“Wait a sec,” spoke up Gunn, following Buffy. “You never told us about this Elect thing. They’re humans, right?”

“Yes,” she said, facing the young man.

His eyes shifted from her to the pouting vampire. “I’m human,” he then said. “Am I part of this Elect?”

“Yes,” she answered.

He grinned. “Great!” A moment later, the smile faded from his face. He then folded his arms across his chest and asked, “Now, what exactly does that mean?”

“You’re going to be removed from the earth before the grand finale, the world’s destruction,” answered Spike, finally remembering the religious term from his youth. God, how he envied Gunn! He took another long drag of his smoke.

“Is that right, Buff? I get a get of out jail free card?” asked Gunn.

“I prefer the term, golden ticket, but yeah, that’s the gist of it.”

“Hot damn!” Gunn exclaimed cheerfully, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “Do I need to go home and pack a bag, or something?”

“No, there’s no time for that,” answered the Slayer. “You don’t need anything, any way.”

“How come he gets to go?” queried Spike miserably.

“Because he’s one of the lucky ones, selected from one of the Twelve Tribes of Man,” the Vala Queen responded, beginning to feel bad for the vampire.

“And who the hell gets to make that bloody decision?” he asked, fixing his penetrating gaze on the Slayer.

“I do,” she replied.

Spike narrowed his eyes. “Why you?”

“Because she’s a God,” answered Illyria, who, moments before, had entered the building with Angel, unbeknownst to the others.

“Illyria,” said Buffy breathlessly, her eyes widening as she looked upon her firstborn.

“Buffy,” uttered Angel in amazement.

As she approached the two, the leader of the group opened his arms in hopes of holding the only woman he had ever loved. He was stunned when she bypassed him for the Old One. Embarrassed, he dropped his arms to his side, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather coat.

“Look at you,” the Valië began, her eyes welling with tears as she examined her firstborn. “You’re so beautiful.”

Illyria remained emotionless, non-responsive.

“Why didn’t you tell me, why didn’t you tell me who you were when we first met?”

“Is that not obvious,” she answered. “You had no memory of our kinship.”

“Kinship?” said Angel, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on here?” He turned toward the Old One standing beside him. “Illyria?”

She glanced at the vampire before replying, “The woman you call Buffy Summers is actually my maternal parental unit.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Bloody hell!”

“I prefer Mom, or Nana,” corrected the Slayer.

“Why would I call you a term of endearment when you abandoned me in my infancy?” asked Illyria, doing the best to conceal the hurt in her voice.

“Whoa! Wait a minute,” said Angel, holding his hand up. “What’s going on here?” His eyes shifted from woman to woman. “Buffy can’t be your mother. She’s human.”

The Old One fixed her blue eyes on Angel. “Your ignorance is unflattering, Vampire. Your senses must be waning if you cannot smell an Ancient One, an Ainu, a Vala.” She turned her gaze back to her mother. “A God.”

“Bloody hell,” repeated Spike. “This definitely calls for a drink!” He pulled the flask from the pocket inside his duster, taking several gulps of the whiskey.

Both Gunn and Angel remained in shock, staring at mother and daughter with their mouths agape.

Buffy tried to ignore the others, staring imploringly at her firstborn. “I didn’t mean to abandon you. The circumstances at the time were… I mean, things were different. I wasn’t myself.”

Illyria walked passed the Vala Queen toward the center of the lobby. “You found my appearance repulsive.” She stopped, facing the Slayer. “Do not spew your lies when I know the truth. My father told me. He told me the real reason why you left. You abandoned me so that you could fornicate with that Elf,” she said with disdain.

“Elf?” queried Angel in disbelief.

Neither woman paid attention to the vampire.

“No, that’s not true,” replied Buffy dashing to her daughter. “Your father lied. He’s cunning. He has a way of manipulating facts to make himself look better.” She locked her eyes on Illyria. “I was under his thrall, bewitched, the whole time I was in Angband. Granted, when the spell wore off, I was… stunned by your demonic appearance. I won’t lie about that. But, it wasn’t really me! I didn’t know who I was. Don’t hold that against me. I’m not wholly to blame. The Aratar are responsible… ”

Illyria grimaced at the mere mention of the eight chieftains of the Valar. “Speak not of those that had condemned me to death!” she hissed in anger. “If I had my full strength, they would get their comeuppance.”

“Listen,” started the Valië again, taking her daughter’s hands. “I love you. I always have.”

“Lies! You continue to spout lies!” countered Illyria, pulling her hands from Buffy’s grasp. “You dethroned me. You destroyed my kingdom!” She turned and took several steps, before stopping. “You bested me in our contest,” she added weakly. “You humiliated me, disgraced me before the masses.”

The Vala Queen stomped across the floor, grabbed her daughter by the arm, and spun her around. “You seem to forget that I let you live when they wanted you dead. I let you keep Bâb-edh-Dhrâ. I saved your city and allowed your loyal followers to remain with you. You seem to forget that, my daughter.”

Like a scolded child, the Old One averted her eyes, looking down at the polished marble floor.

“I love you, Illyria. Just give me a chance to prove that. Let me show you that my words are not said in vain. I want to give you the world.” Buffy reached out, lovingly taking Illyria by the chin, lifting her head so that she met her mother’s gaze. “I just have to take care of some business first.” Her eyes shifted to Angel for a moment before returning to her daughter. “We’ll talk later, in private, when I get back. Okay?”

The Old One could perceive her mother’s thoughts. She nodded thoughtfully. “Make it quick, Mother… for me,” answered Illyria in a faint voice.

The Vala Queen leaned forward, planting a kiss on her daughter’s forehead. She pulled back and without speaking any command, Illyria, Gunn and Spike suddenly froze.

“Why did you do that?” asked Angel, waving his hand before Gunn’s face.

“It’s better this way,” she answered, walking over to Spike and taking the lit cigarette dangling from his lips. “You and me - we’re going on a little trip.” She tossed the smoke to the floor, crushing the lit end with the sole of her boot.

“Oh, where to?” he asked, turning his complete attention to the Slayer.

“One of my most favorite places in the world,” she answered, strolling over to the vampire. Buffy stopped inches away from him, smiling coyly. “We never said a proper hello, did we?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he replied with a quick smile. He stepped closer, pulling the Vala Queen into his arms.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, drinking in his scent.

“Hello,” he whispered before kissing her passionately.

For a few seconds the only sound within the room was of their wet kisses, but then, the sound of waves crashing on the shore drowned out their smacking lips, as Buffy had teleported them to an isolated isle far from civilization.

Noticing the change in scenario, Angel pulled back slightly, looking toward the sea. “Where are we?” he asked, somewhat breathlessly.

“A small isle in the south Caribbean,” she answered, pulling out of the embrace, but taking the vampire by the hand. “A friend of mine brought me here ages ago. I come here when I need to think.”

“Hey, my clothes! What happened to my clothes?” he queried with a hint of dismay to his voice upon noticing that his traditional, dark-colored ‘vampire’ attire had been replaced by clothing that Don Johnson might’ve worn in Miami Vice.

“I thought it would be more appropriate considering the weather,” she replied, leading him along the shoreline in their bare feet. Even Buffy’s clothing had changed to a pink tank top and black mini-skirt. “After the whole Acathla thing happened, I used to dream of us, walking hand-in-hand on the beach,” she continued, invoking memories of the past. “I loved you so much. I still do. That won’t ever change.”

Angel stopped, facing the Slayer. He took both of her hands in his. “Is it true, Buffy? That… that you’re a God?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t understand,” he replied, his face wrinkled in confusion. “How come you never said anything? How come I didn’t feel it? Your powers, I mean.”

“I didn’t know. Not until recently. Real recently, as matter of fact,” she said, correcting herself. “My people, the Gods, as mortal kind refer to them, the Powers That Be, you call them, are actually called the Valar. They had placed a Veil on me, using their magics to hide what I really was, what I really am. We’ve been at odds for a long, long time.” She paused for a moment before adding, “I am the Vala of Love and War.”

“Hmm, that makes a lot of sense,” he answered with a chortle. “Explains a lot.”

“Yeah, I suppose it does,” she replied with a sigh, starting to lead him along the beach once again. “Sorry, I just feel like I have to keep moving. Time’s ticking away here and I can’t keep still… Any way, where was I? Oh, yeah, the Valar. In the infinite wisdom of my brethren, they decided to thrust my spirit into the infant of a young girl - I suppose it was to teach me some lesson or another, but who knows their rationale. We never really got along too well.”

“You and the other Valar?” he asked, quite interested in all she had to say.

“Yeah. Over time, the Valar became divided into two camps - those that were considered righteous, and those considered wicked… ”

“And what group did you fall in?”

“Well, that’s the thing, the problem, if you will. There’s a grey area in there, at least I like think so. I guess in a way, they think I’m wicked at times, and at others, when they deem that I’ve fallen into step with their line of thinking, that I’m righteous. But they don’t get it, the world that is. They live in their Blessed Realm where they’re seldom confronted with the horrors that plague mankind. I chose to live in the world, to experience the ups and downs that affect people. I’ve seen the good, the bad and the ugly. In a way, I’ve fallen under all those categories at some time or another, depending on the situation.

“I’m Love. And it’s been my love for the world and its inhabitants that has led me to war. I don’t think I’ve done it for selfish reasons, I’ve done it out of necessity, out of survival.” She paused, then chuckled. “God, I’m just rambling on and on here.”

“I like it when you ramble. It’s sweet,” said Angel, giving her a warm smile.

“Any way, the Valar hindered my powers and put me in this body, letting Joyce and Hank raise me as their daughter. I think that about sums it up.”

“But why would they think you’re wicked? I mean, there’s a pretty distinct line between good and evil,” remarked the vampire.

“True, to a certain extent. I mean look at you,” she continued, glancing up at Angel’s handsome face. “When you hooked up with Wolfram & Hart, even I wondered which side you were on. Sometimes looks can be deceiving.”

“Good point.”

“Ironically,” she went on, “and I know that this is going off subject, but I actually became the head of the House of Hart.”

Angel stopped in his tracks. “What?” he asked. If possible, his face was rapidly becoming paler.

“Long story. But, like you, I integrated myself into the most evil regime to walk the earth. I married into the line of the Ram, and had formed an alliance early on with the House of Wolf.” She laughed. “Maybe that’s one of the things that I’ve done that warrant the hostility of my kinsmen.”

He stared at her in disbelief for several seconds, stunned to hear that. “So, you’re one of the powers behind the Senior Partners?”

“Yep,” she answered. “They’re our emissaries, our representatives that carry out the tasks assigned to them.”

“But, you’re a champion. How can you be a part of something so… evil?” he queried.

“My assignment was never to eradicate evil, but to maintain the balance. Sometimes, the scale tipped the other way - where good was triumphing over evil. I had no other choice but to balance things out, to let evil, you know, get the one-up.”

Angel was speechless. Never in a million years would he have thought that the love of his life could be the instigator of such evil and mayhem in the world, especially when he was under the impression that she was merely the Slayer, an instrument used by the Powers That Be to combat evil. Things clearly weren’t black and white. That seemed obvious enough.

While the vampire was in his dazed state, Buffy, keeping her hold on his hand, continued walking along the beach.

“This war, the darkness that has enveloped the world, are you responsible for that?”

“Well,” she began hesitantly. “Mankind brought the war about on their own, with the aid of some evil Ainur, which is the name that the Valar and Maiar are grouped under. Those Ainur, guised as men and women, have infiltrated the governments around the world, big industry, corporations, financial institutions, religious entities and whatnot. They wanted this war, so I gave it to them.” She sniggered. “But they don’t know that I have a few tricks up my sleeve. They have no idea what’s coming.” She laughed again.

“And the darkness?”

“Yeah, I did that. It’s my attempt to lure the rats out of their holes. But, even if they remain hidden, I’ll get them, I’ll get them all in the end.”

“Then this is it. This isn’t just another Apocalypse, is it? This is the Big One, Armageddon?”

Buffy looked away, as she rolled her eyes. “Yes, this is the End.”

“Then shouldn’t we be out there fighting, doing what we can?” suggested Angel anxiously.

“Nah, the outcome of this war was foretold ages ago. Only a chosen few know what’s going to happen. Things need to run their course.” She glanced up at the vampire’s worried face. “Now’s the time to enjoy the moment, to savor what precious little time we have left, ‘cause it’s not gonna last much longer. Everything’s going to change. The Age of Aquarius quickly approaches, and, with it, a new order will rise in Eä.”

“Is that a good thing?” he asked apprehensively.

“It’s a splendid thing. A glorious thing.” She smiled, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “And to think, our bloodlines have now merged. I never would have dreamed that Dawnie and Connor would hook up. I used to wish that it would be me and you, that we’d get married and have a bunch of little kids running around.”

“You know that can’t happen,” he answered morosely.

“I know. It was just a dream, a fleeting dream. I’m just happy knowing that my bloodline continues to run through all the Houses of Man.”

Angel looked at Buffy with his brow arched, questioning her comments without saying a single word.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t, you know, procreate with all the lords of those Houses. My son, my youngest, he was quite the womanizer, planted his seed in many a fair maiden,” she said with a laugh. “Not that I was against that. I supported that wholly and completely.”

“You have other children?” he asked, slightly amazed by that revelation.

“Yep. I have six.”

“Six?! You have six children?!”

“Uh-huh. Illyria, well, Illyria’s my oldest. Then the twins, Anno and Mirë, came into being after her, then Olofin, my beloved half-elf son, and finally my baby boy, Morgon. Histories or myth, mention Horus, but technically he’s not my son, though I raised him from infancy. I still account him amongst my children nonetheless.” Buffy fell quiet. Her expression became grim after speaking of her children.

After several minutes, Angel asked, “What happened to them, to your children? I mean, other than Illyria - who, by the way, happens to be one hell of a warrior.”

The cheerfulness in her voice and mannerisms from earlier were nearly all gone, as she gloomily replied, “All of them died, were murdered, even Illyria, though she was brought back by my prayers to the Allfather.”

“You were the one who brought her back?” he asked incredulously, stopping once again.

“Of course. One mortal sacrifice for her return. That was part of the deal,” she answered.

“Then you’re the one responsible for Fred’s death,” he said, flabbergasted to hear himself saying those words.

The Vala Queen fixed her eyes on Angel. “She was the sacrifice, the holy vessel. Her death was a blessed thing.”

“And her soul, her soul has been obliterated from the world,” he continued in that same shocked tone.

“Unless another sacrifices themselves for her, yes. That’s the way things work, tit for tat, if you will.” The Slayer sighed heavily. “God, can we hold off on this depressing conversation for a while? There’re so many other things I want to talk about with you first.”

“Such as?” queried the vampire, his mind spinning from all that he was hearing.

“Well, for one thing, I remember, I remember the sacrifice you made for me.”

Angel raised his brows in question.

“You know, when you gave up your mortality for me, when the Oracles reset time. I remember.”

“You do?” he replied.

“Oh, yeah,” she answered, nodding.

“There’s been many times, when I’ve found myself alone, that I just closed my eyes and relived that day over and over. It was the happiest time in my life, or unlife.”

She placed her hand on his chest. “I remember feeling your heart beat, feeling the warmth of your skin. You were human. It was my wildest dream come true.”

“And the food. I remember the taste of food,” he added, thinking of that fond, though brief, memory.

“Like ice cream and chocolate. Yum,” she said, grinning ear to ear.

“Yeah, yum,” uttered the vampire halfheartedly, forcing a quick smile.

“What?” she pouted in reply. “Come on, Angel, don’t go all Mr. Broody Pants on me.” She pulled her hand from his chest. “Let’s live in the moment.”

“It’s not that easy, Buffy,” he answered. “You come back, drop bomb after bomb, and I’m supposed to just accept these things. It’s Armageddon! We should be out there, fighting.”

“You mean we should be helping the helpless, eh?” she replied with a roll of her eyes.

“Exactly. We’re champions, Buffy. Fighting - it’s what we do.” He turned his doleful eyes toward the darkened sea. “I’ll never be human. There is no future for us.”

“You’re talking about that Shamu prophecy thingy, aren’t you?” she queried, a bit more serious than she had been a moment before.

“Shanshu,” he corrected, facing her once again. “The Shanshu prophecy. And yes, that’s what I’m talking about. I signed away my claim to it. I’m stuck in this world as a vampire with a soul. And if I experience just one moment of happiness, then Angelus returns.”

“You don’t have to read me the warning label. Been there. Done that. Wasn’t pretty either!” answered the Slayer with a sigh. “That doesn’t matter any more, Angel. That’s in the past.”

“Yeah, but the past has a way of creeping up on you, biting you on the ass when you least expect it.”

Buffy stared at Angel for several seconds before breaking out in a fit of laughter.

The vampire chuckled at the sight. “What? What’s so funny?” He really wanted to be in on the joke.

“I’ve gotta have that engraved in my temple or something: ‘The past has a way of creeping up on you, biting you on the ass when you least expect it.’ Wow! That’s so profound.” The smile faded from her face. “You know why? ‘Cause it’s so true, especially for you.”

She turned, taking off along the shoreline once again, leaving a very baffled Angel behind.

“Wait! Buffy!” the vampire called out, chasing after her. Catching up with her, he grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to face him. “What are you talking about? There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“There’re a lot of things I haven’t told you, Angel. I’m a God, for heaven’s sake. I’m all-seeing. And when I was out of commission, living this mortal life as Buffy Summers, my people looked after me. You know, those loyal to me, bound to me out of love, those who hate to see me in pain, or worse, betrayed.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t understand,” answered the worried vampire, releasing his hold on the Vala Queen.

“Let’s continue my little game of ‘I Remember’ shall we?” she said, clapping her hands together. “I remember Paris in 1792.”

Angel’s face remained wrinkled in confusion. He stared blankly at Buffy.

“Oh, come on, Angel - you were there, or I should say, Angelus was there. Do you remember, do you remember me wandering upon you in that alley, the alley where you were fucking what was left of the Princess? God, how fucking revolting! You were a sick mother-fucker, there’s no doubt about that.”

She watched the vampire’s reaction. He furrowed his brows as in deep thought, his dark eyes shifting to her hair. Buffy actually could see the proverbial light bulb going off in Angel’s mind when it dawned on him that she was that same woman he had encountered centuries earlier in a dimly lit alleyway during the French Revolution. His eyes then widened, his lips parted, as to speak, yet no sound came out.

“Ah, you remember,” she said, waving her finger at him. “See, isn’t this fun!” she continued excitedly. “But, wait, it gets better. My dear nemesis, Yavanna - she’s a Vala too, thought it would be amusing to send one of her lackey’s to you, years later, to show you the perky little cheerleader that was about to become Slayer… ”

“Whistler,” he said in a mere whisper.

“You remember! See, you’re getting the hang of my little game here,” she continued, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Yavanna thought it would be funny if I fell in love with that despicable creature that I saw in Paris. But, that’s not the best part. I’m getting to that. My friends, my loved ones who dwell in Folkvang - they saw what was happening. They saw us falling in love. Believe me, you’re not the first of your kind that I’ve fallen for. You’re one of many.

“Nevertheless, they believed that you really loved me, that I was your one true love… until the whole Cordelia debacle happened in L.A.” She scowled, snickering, “Jesus, Angel! Cordy?! The Queen Bitch of Sunnydale! You and her!” She put her finger in her opened mouth and made a series of retching noises. “The thought alone makes me wanna puke.”

“I… I never loved Cordy like I loved you,” he said, finding his voice at last.

“I know!” she exclaimed. “My people saw to that. That whole thing with Jasmine… ” She raised her hand, giving it a wave. “Hello! Courtesy of the supporters of the Vala of Love.”

“You brought Jasmine to this world.” The vampire could feel his mouth going dry as he spoke.

“Not me, my people. Pay attention, Angel. I think your age is catching up with you.” She whirled her finger next to her head, indicating that the vampire was losing it.

“I must say that my friends are a brilliant bunch. They know that I’m a jealous God. It’s in my nature. When they made Cordy a demon, and saw that that didn’t help - they had her screw your darling little boy’s brains out, making sure that you witnessed that act of - dare I say it - betrayal?” she revealed delightfully.

Angel stood there, mouth agape, not knowing how to respond to her shocking comments. He was bowled over.

“In the end,” she continued, “they decided it was best to have Cordy leave this world. But don’t fret, she was given a place of honor in Folkvang - she became a priestess in my temple, Tingilindë. Now, she gets paid to fornicate with men, and quite honestly, she’s happy. The act of lovemaking is a sacred rite in my kingdom. I reckon that she has some redeeming qualities after all.” Buffy laughed. “And we were friends, I suppose. Those splitting headaches - I deemed that was punishment enough. She’s in a good place.”

The vampire remained motionless, staring at Buffy in shocked disbelief. Their reunion was not at all what he was expecting. It was worse, much worse than he had ever imagined. And from the looks of it, he knew that she was taking great pleasure in revealing these things to him. A part of Angel desperately wanted to believe that this woman standing before him was an imposter, a demon guised as his beloved Buffy, but he knew deep down, that was wishful thinking. He was seeing the real Buffy in all her horrifying glory.

“Friendship,” she went on, her tone more solemn now, “friendship makes our lives have meaning, it fills us with… something, I don’t know what you’d call it - love, maybe. To trust someone completely, and they you, is a rarity in this world. There’s no better fulfillment in life that one can ask for than a true friend. I hold myself lucky that I have had many in my life that have been with me through thick and thin. And I for them.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Tell me, Angel: do you have any true friends, any that have been loyal to you, that have stood beside you through thick and thin?”

He paused for a moment, realizing that there was some hidden meaning behind Buffy’s words, but he didn’t know exactly what it was, yet. “Yes,” he finally answered, his mouth now bitterly dry.

“Hmm, interesting,” she answered.

The doubt in her tone was not lost on the vampire.

“And how many of those friends have you betrayed, hmm?”

“What?” he queried in confusion.

“It’s a simple question that requires a simple answer. A number. How many?”

Angel’s gut told him that no matter what answer he provided, it would be the wrong one. The Slayer was up to something, she was going somewhere with her line of questioning, yet the vampire still remained clueless.

“I don’t know,” he answered, shaking his head.

“I guess it doesn’t matter, right? I mean, you help the helpless, and that warrants your having some leeway in the betrayal department, eh?”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” he replied, sweat forming on his palms and brow.

“Family,” she replied, grave in tone and face. “Family is the most important thing in the world to me. And family doesn’t have to be blood kin. Family are the people who love you unconditionally, and you them. A simple premise, but one that runs afoul time after time.”

Oddly enough, the Slayer linked her arm with Angel’s, and continued walking along the beach as the foamy waves licked at their feet.

“I didn’t want to talk about my children earlier, but now I do. My kids were all murdered, each and every one of the them. The strangest thing is - your scent was on four of them. Illyria died ages ago, of course, and even I know you weren’t responsible for that, so you get a pass there. But Anno and Mirë - whoa! Your scent was all over them.”

“I don’t know any by the name of Anno or Mirë,” he said, somewhat defensively.

“Yeah, you do. I believe you call them the Oracles.”

“The Oracles,” Angel repeated, a shiver running down his spine despite the mild climate. The Oracles were Buffy’s children! he thought to himself. He stopped, forcing the Vala Queen to stop as well. “I didn’t kill them!” he protested with a tinge of panic in his tone. “I came upon them after Vocah had murdered them. The female Oracle knows that. She spoke to me afterwards.”

“I know,” Buffy answered calmly in an attempt to dispel the vampire’s fears, if only for a moment. “That was just a test. The twins are alive and kicking once again. No harm, no foul, at least where they’re concerned.”

“What are you getting at here, Buffy? I’m tired of your games,” he snarled, annoyed that she was prolonging the conversation, which was making the situation a whole lot worse for the vampire.

“Olofin,” she shot back with a sneer. “My son’s body reeked of your stench! You killed him!”

“Me?” queried a stunned Angel, his mind racing, seeing all the faces of those that he had murdered in the past. “I don’t recall anyone by the name of Olofin, nor have I ever met a half-elf.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know him by his real name. In this world he went by his epessë, his nickname, and he always wore his mortal form. Perhaps, a change of scenery will refresh your memory,” she hissed, snatching Angel’s hand and teleporting them both to a new location.

When they reappeared, they were standing on a deserted bridge over a deep, dark pit. The only light came from a few torches affixed to the rock wall.

Slightly disoriented, he asked, “Where are we?”

“Don’t you know?” she replied, releasing her grip on the vampire. “You’ve been here before.”

Angel’s eyes scanned the cavernous chamber. “The Well, the Deeper Well,” he uttered under her breath.

“My son was Hebor,” she confessed.

“Hebor?” he queried, as a cold chill swept over him.

“Keeper,” she answered, her voice echoing within the vaulted chamber.

“Drogyn,” Angel said, his breathing quickening. “Drogyn was your son.”

“He was my beloved son. Pure and virtuous. The noblest of his kind - and you killed him.”

Panicking, the vampire turned, facing Buffy. “Listen, Buffy. You have to understand. I… I had to. It was the only way to gain access to the Circle of the… ”

“Shut up!” she exclaimed, backhanding the vampire, sending him flying into the railing. “I don’t care about your motivation. There’s nothing you can say to make things right. There’s nothing you can say to still my wrath! You killed my beloved child, and for that, you will die.”

Angel remained hunched over the railing, holding his stinging cheek, tasting the blood in his mouth.

The Vala Queen stood there, her narrowed eyes boring into the vampire, as he pulled himself upright once again.

A tall, cloaked figure stood in the shadows. The hood of his garment concealed his face.

“It was for the greater good, Buffy. I… I had to kill him… to save the world,” said Angel in a desperate attempt to save himself.

The cloaked man stretched out an arm. A long chain shot out of the draping folds of his sleeves, hurtling toward the vampire.

However, Angel was a seasoned warrior, and had heard the clanking sound of the metal links. With a quick look over his shoulder, he saw the chain coming his way. He grabbed Buffy, throwing them both down on the bridge, as the chain flew over their heads, passing them until it landed on the metal surface with a series of clanking noises.

When the vampire lifted his head, looking at Buffy again, her appearance had changed. Her golden hair and face were streaked with red, her eyes black as night. As he gasped at her transformation, she head-butted him, dazing him, and slid out from beneath the weight of his body.

The cloaked figure grabbed a handful of the vampire’s hair, forcing him to his feet, as the chains began to move, rattling along the grates of the bridge.

Angel tried to shake the stars out of his eyes. He growled, having changed into his vampiric form.

Standing before him was Buffy, attired in red, form-fitting garments, reminiscent of what Illyria always wore. In that brief moment, he could see the resemblance between mother and daughter.

As the cloaked figure raised his hand, the chain lifted from the floor, racing toward the trio, as Angel struggled in his captor’s grip. The hooded figure had one of his legs hooked around the vampire’s in anticipation of his captive attempting to flip or twist out of his hold. The chain went racing by the Slayer, wrapping itself around the vampire like a metal python.

A dagger then mystically appeared in Buffy’s hand. As the chain continued to wind around the vampire, from the legs up, the Slayer ripped the shirt off her former lover. She began to carve a large cross into the flesh of his torso, as Angel screamed out in pain.

The streaming flow of Angel’s blood splattered onto the nearest sarcophagi protruding from the walls below, causing a rumbling sound to reverberate within the enormous chamber. Those that had been entombed in their prison were now awakening, and would soon join Morgoth’s forces, in wreaking destruction upon the world.

Once she had finished her artwork, the chain mystically hoisted the vampire into the air.

“Vengeance is mine!” hissed the Slayer.

“Buffy,” cried Angel, dangling from above. “You don’t have to do this.”

With a wave of her hands, she set Angel ablaze, the flames quickly eating at his flesh, as his high-pitched screams echoed within the Well.

The cloaked figure went to her side. Standing together, they watched as Angel’s body turned to dust.

“I wanted to kill him slowly, but I promised Illyria that I’d make it quick,” she disclosed.

The new Hebor of the Well threw back his hood, revealing a fair face framed by long silver hair. “As long as he’s dead, that’s all that matters,” said Thranduil, taking Buffy’s hand in his.

At that moment, all the demonic spirits broke out of their tombs, several tearing apart the soul of Angel, devouring what was left of his spirit.

“This is it, then,” continued the Elf Lord, shifting his gaze to the Valië. “This is The End.”

She nodded somberly. They started across the bridge as the rumbling grew louder and louder. They then vanished, as the demonic spirits began to speedily depart the Well, all heading through the tunnel leading to Folkvang…