We Don’t Say Goodbye
Author: Stir of
Echoes
Fandom: Angel
Rating: U
Angel stood in the
alley and prepared to stare death in the face, and despite what some would
believe it was death not just another vampire eliminated. There were those who
would say a vampire couldn’t die, for how could a thing that was never truly
alive die? He’d thought that too, once upon a time, believed in the Shanshu
prophecy for so long, the chance to live, to breathe, to feel, to die as Wes
had died, as so many had died, to hear his heart beat, to feel his chest rise
and fall with each breath until he breathed no more. But somewhere along the
many battles, the loves and losses that had changed.
He glanced over at Spike, saw the wounds, the ugly tear in his skin that marred
his beautiful, familiar face, saw the blood that flowed as freely as Gunn’s and
knew Spike suffered for every blow. Yet Angel knew they’d never match the
wounds that caused Spike’s heart to bleed, caused the blood to flow despite the
lack of heartbeat that made him no less of a man.
Angel had seen Spike’s heart; seen how he loved, like no vampire had ever
loved, more than most humans were capable of loving. Spike loved and lost as
Angel had loved and lost and his heart carried the same wounds as his own, had
bled for those who’d fallen along the way, ached for those who’d brought light
into his existence … his life.
Spike, who made the choice to do good for the sake of doing good, who proved
himself worthy at the cost of his own life, a vampire who died saving the world
and came back a Champion.
They say as long as someone remembered, as long as there is one person in the
world who keeps you in their memories, who spares you a single thought then you
can never truly die.
Angel remembered, he remembered them all …
Doyle, who taught him so much, who opened his eyes to the pain and suffering
all around him. Who made him look deep within himself to the thing he was and
the man he could be, Doyle was more than his eyes to the pain and suffering,
more than a fellow Irish demon trying to get by in a world where his true face
wasn’t accepted, more than a messenger. He was a warrior of good, his guide …
his friend.
And Cordelia, his strength whenever he was weak, who despite everything she’d
seen during her time in Sunnydale, despite all the horrors, including Angelus
and the loss of everything she knew and who had more reason to loathe him than
most yet didn’t. She always saw the best in him, pushed him along, and kept him
upright when he wanted to fall.
Cordelia, who never thought much of demons in general but was willing to work
for a vampire with a soul. The once selfish, self-centred beauty queen of
Sunnydale High who became the friend who gave her last breath to keep him
fighting, to remind him of who he was and why he fights, who gave him renewed
faith because she believed in him.
And Fred, who’s spirit, soul was destroyed so thousands of others would live,
his choice, his decision …
We cling to what is gone …
Angel glanced over at Illyria, who like Angel survived with the knowledge that
everything she knew was gone, her temple, her armies, all those who were
supposed to join her, stand, fight by her side … gone.
The once God like creature who was feared and worshipped alike now nothing more
than the shell she inhabited …
Fred who fought to save herself and the world from the creature who now stood
by his side, who like so many, earned an existence beyond death where she will
never suffer.
Angel caught the grief in
Angel turned his head away from the other’s, glanced up at the sky as the
heavens opened and the rain continued to pour, they’d lost so much, so many …
Wesley, fired by the Council of Watchers for his inability to keep control of
the Slayers, of Buffy, of Faith, who, like Cordelia, bereft of everything he’d
ever known, once respected Watcher and enemy of the vampire chose to work for a
vampire with a soul.
The father will kill the Son …
Wesley, who unable to share the prophecy with his friends, unable to contact
Cordelia, who felt isolated an alone over his fears took Angel’s only son.
Wesley’s choice, Wesley’s decision and when unable to find the ones
responsible, unable to find Connor, unable to defeat Sahjhan, Wesley who bore
the brunt of Angel’s rage.
The same Wesley, when aware that Angel had been left at the bottom of the
ocean, a prisoner of his own thoughts, dreams … nightmares and his sons
betrayal searched for Angel, found him, nursed him back to health with his own
blood, his own life giving energy and returned him to the good fight. And who
like Cordelia had reason to fear Angel, maybe even loath him but who proved the
smallest act of kindness is the greatest gift in the world.
Wesley, his friend, who fought alongside him, who fought for him and died as
Doyle died, as Cordelia died, as Fred died a hero.
Wesley who proved himself worthy of any Slayer.
Angel would remember them all, whether he died this night or years from now, he
knew that the life ahead of them and their deaths were unknown. All that was
known was the now, this time, this present moment and in that moment he knew
that death had not extinguished those who’d fallen, those who had given their
lives willingly in the battle against evil, those who brought them here to this
time, this place, this alley.
Angel knew, as long as memory endured their influence, their love would be felt
by all those who stood in that alley and prepared to face death, as those
before them faced death … even Darla.
Darla, who gave her life so their son could live, a vampire who’d never loved
another being, never loved anything, even Angelus giving life to the child
inside her. Connor, who allowed her to know love for the first time in her
existence and love, is something worth dying for, as she died for Connor, as
she was once prepared to die for Angel as he was once prepared to die for her.
To give up his life for the chance of a cure, so she could live, experience
everything that her previous life had denied her.
Darla, who unwilling to accept his sacrifice, his life for hers, unwilling to
risk Angel’s soul, his place in the world who instead accepted the chance to
die, the way she was supposed to die all those years ago.
And if Angel’s time in this world had taught him anything, it was that death
was a certainty.
Unless the world ended first!
And he wasn’t prepared to let that happen, he wasn’t prepared to let The Wolf,
The Ram and The Hart claim the world as their own, the time of The Old Ones was
over, gone, dead, like Illyria’s armies, her warriors, like his friends, like
his fellow warriors, fellow heroes and heroes don’t accept the way the world
is.
And maybe once, eons ago evil ruled the earth but no more, not while there was
people like them, warriors, champions, it didn’t matter where they came from,
human, vampire, not anymore. All that mattered was power and the willingness to
use it. To stand up, to show them what the world can be, to show them they
don’t own humanity, that humanity has the right to choose. So maybe once they
ruled the earth, were destined to be the power over, well he’d just signed
destiny away, and maybe destiny was something you can’t avoid, maybe it was but
he was willing to live or die to find out.
The sky thundered above as the heavy rain continued, momentarily drowning out
the sounds of the approaching hordes, hundreds possibly thousands of demons,
monsters of all shapes and sizes made their way down the alley to the few left
standing.
“OK. You take the 30,000 on the left...”
Angel heard the high-pitched screech and looked up into the darkness, as the
armies of hell grew nearer; saw the huge wingspan of the creature as it bore
down on them, its screeches becoming louder as it prepared to attack.
“You're fading. You'll last 10 minutes at best. “
Gunn stood, slowly and faced the oncoming army, saw Angel step forward as Spike
and
“Then let's make 'em memorable.”
Memorable …
Angel remembered, he remembered them all, reminded himself of each person’s
life, the interactions he had with them and knew he was not alone, death was
inevitable and in that inevitability, he felt about him their arms, their love,
and their strength.
Fight the good fight, yeah, you never know until you’ve been tested …
But you're bigger than that. You'll win this in the end …
Handsome man saved me from the monsters …
Hope is the one thing that will sustain you …
I've seen it now - everything you're going through, everything you've gone
through. - I felt it. I felt how you care. The way no one's ever cared before …
Life was too important to waste on trivial matters, minutes, hours, all that
mattered was now, here, this time, this moment, better to find it’s meaning
than count the seconds.
Death was inevitable. But not theirs, not this night, not in this alley.
“In terms of a plan?” Spike asked.
“We fight,” Angel replied, never once taking his eyes of the approaching enemy.
“Bit more specific,” Spike asked, glancing at Angel briefly before turning his
gaze back towards the sounds of wailing and moaning.
Angel paused, looked up at the sky and felt the rain beat down heavily on his
already soaked skin, felt arms about him once more, felt warmth despite the
cold, strength despite the odds.
Hand in hand, past and present, warriors all …
Angel smiled, stepped forward towards the battle …
“Well, personally, I kind of wanna slay the Dragon,” Angel said, confidently as
the demon hordes attacked.
Angel came out in defence of their hearts, their will to choose, their memories
and for those he loved.
Angel remembered, he remembered them all and as long as someone remembers loved
ones never die, only one thing stood between the survival of those memories …
Angel swung his sword,
“let’s go to work …”
~fin~