Disclaimer: *Laughs and runs away.* Don't own 'em.

Pairing: B/A

Rating: just barely R

Spoilers: Nada

Summary: When it's all over.when you follow your destiny.To be human, to live. Not as easy as it sounds.

Author's Notes: the * lines and title come from the poem "Destiny," by Matthew Arnold.

Dedication: Kendra and Nariya for all the help. *SMOOCH*

*Why each is striving, from of old,

I place the fresh flowers on their graves. So very neat, so very simple. Dull gray, already aging as time passes. Here lies.all of them. Such a meaningless symbol of the lives lost. Yet I always come at this time. 

I've done it every year, for the past five years and still, it hurts.

The memories. The screams. The sounds. Bodies breaking, bleeding openly, and I, well I.just couldn't do a damn thing about it. Watched them all fall, watched them all die. I was left.

But I am not alone.

*To love more deeply than he can?

And I still remember.her.

A tiny flicker of light, of hope, and she guided me.inspired me to become something more.

Hands reaching out, and holding my own, so warm, and I couldn't possibly know such love, didn't deserve it. How did I love her so much? I do not know, but I still do.

Golden smiles.soft laughs.and vows we'd always end up breaking.

Always.

*Still would be true, yet still grows cold?

But it was too late. Forever came and went. I merely followed my destiny and this is where it led me.

My friends, my family, all dead. The war was harder than we thought. All that time, and in one split second.they were all gone. Screams and cries for help and I couldn't.

"ANGEL!!!" Whose shout was it? Did it matter? I couldn't tell, I couldn't see, I was trying to save the world and I let them all.

I tighten the coat around my body. I'm still not used to this.

Too cold at night, too hot during the day, how do people walk around without this discomfort? I shiver.shivering, it feels so surreal, something I once could only watch, could imitate, but not really, not really understand. To shiver in the cold and need the warmth.

But there is little comfort left.

* -Ask of the Powers that sport with man!

I'm human now. This was no blessing. No miracle. No gift.

I'm dying.

What all mortals do, I guess, my body ages every day, each breath is another one I won't have again.

I never realized how fragile.how delicate being human was. I forgot. After saving the world for the last time, body weary and aching.mortality returned to my bones, to my flesh. A rush of life and I couldn't believe that it was happening at that moment. When I was most miserable, most happy to die because I was so alone.

I could feel my heart beating. And then.the first skipped beat. My wounds were too close to the edge of death. I nearly died. But I survived.

Whatever happens, I always manage to.keep on going. No matter how much it hurts.

*They yok'd in him, for endless strife,

I kneel in darkness. The sunlight hurts. It burns.

My skin is too delicate as well. The flesh does not like the light, which blazes overhead, it protests and I can feel an itch coming over me, but I am helpless. Because I can now stand in the sun, I should be happy, right?

Still, the cool comfort of the night, the indifference of the moon.it is familiar. Over two hundred years I remember being in the night and those memories...that long stretch of time I was sure was a misery, I know it best. Understand it more. I shall never understand living. Never.

And I look to them, who lost their lives and for what? The world is safe or is it? We found to merely secure this state of stasis, not hell nor heaven. Something in between and shades of gray.I wonder if they would look to this world and be proud that this is what they gave up their lives for. Or if they would look at me and loathe me for having what they lost.

So many years.what a waste. They didn't deserve to die. I should have gotten them to leave when the final signs approached. But I didn't. I was selfish. I wanted them there, because they were my friends.

Because I feared being alone.

*A heart of ice, a soul of fire;

"Are you done yet?" she gently asks, the barest hints of weariness crossing her still lovely features. She too, knows this pain, and she is the only one I can confide in.

The only one I can feel in again. Soft skin and sure hands, and still strong, still here, still living. Still love.

When they all died, I was beside myself. At that point of madness that nearly did me in one dark night many years ago. But my soul was secure, my life was certain. I would live. But they were all dead. Somehow, she found me in the wreckage, in the confusion of bodies scattered, some humans, many demons.and some of people I loved so very much.

It was revolting. But she found me. And crushed her lips against mine. It tasted like salt, make my wounds ache all the more. My soul screamed and the joy I was supposed to feel in having this moment.in being with her finally.was squandered. Edged with a bitterness, salty-sick, and our tears continued.

Even when we left the war torn fields, when we went off and made love till the sun rose, even then, our souls mourned, our hearts broke. Together again, but at what price?

Her hands tried to warm me, touched my chest where my heart now beat, but all I felt was the bitter chill. We had each other, but we lost it all. And I would never be happy again. I knew that for sure. Yet we kissed and assured ourselves that happy tomorrows waited, the fight was over, we were together.and gave no thought to those we had to bury for a short reprieve.

I sought my happiness in her. And she gave herself willingly.

Love.

I motion to take her hand, but she hesitates, before taking it. So very cold. We're just so damn cold.

It's too late for us.

But still.

*And hurl'd him on the Field of Life,

Shakily, I carefully balance my weight on my cane. To live.but I am soon to die. I'm merely a human now.

The years now burn quickly instead of the slow fade of immortality. I don't know which is worse. Being immortal, to watch life wither and fade, or to live and fade with time. Time was always my enemy.

Now life is a new opponent.

I stand, a slight slouch to my stance, an unfortunate effect of my dependence on the staff. Perhaps one day, my leg will get better. Not now though. It hurts so much.

To be human.

To know pain.

One and the same, I've learned.

*An aimless unallay'd Desire.

She moves closer to me. But still apart. Only our hands are connected.

"I had to see them again."

She walks around me, facing my downward gaze. Her eyes are still soft yet around the edges, the wear is apparent.

The longest-lived Slayer, she fought at an age beyond most Slayers dreamed of reaching. She battled and won. Yet still, she lost. Her friends and family gone, but she never goes to see the gravestones. Never brings them up. The past is the past, as she once remarked. She doesn't want the memories to come back to haunt her.

For a year she awoke each night screaming, remembering. She too couldn't save them. It is worse for her. She is more human than anyone else I know.

So delicate yet so strong. A paradox in her own right. She comforted me during my worst times, when I got drunk (I could get drunk.I had forgotten the haze of alcohol, to be able to force the whiskey down my throat to forget.I could drink to forget) and screamed and called out names of people who could never, never answer me again. She would take me into her arms and let me break down, because she knew it too.

We cried for those who would never, ever be able to answer again. Ever.

I left her long ago for her to have a happy life. And all the ties, the bonds, she had were ruined because of one fight, one fight that nearly destroyed us. It destroyed everyone we loved. And here we are, the ones who remember. Who live.

She is an incredible woman. Without her, I know I would be lost. She sent me on this path. I am human now because of her. Because I left her.

I ruined her life, didn't I?

To love the one person I should have never fallen in love with.to still love her.

Always.

Brushing her lips against mine, she whispers, "I understand."

And I know what she means. She wants to pretend it's all going to be okay; just like I tend to when I visit them.and feel a second of hope. Somehow they'll all come back, and be happy, and live. But they can't. And we can't hope for that.

"Angel! Wow, you got a tan! But still, the black look. Guess you can take the vampire out of the man, but still the fashion sense remains."

"Angel, man how's it goin'?"

"Gosh Angel, it's been a while, wow, you look great!"

"Ah.Angel, a rather long time, I'm afraid."

They're all dead.

And it's our fault.

My wounds (the bad knee that causes me to groan in pain when it rains, the lower back that's always stiff in the morning), they'll heal. The mortal body can mend. But never the heart. Never the soul.

Not after what I had to lose. What we lost. It will last with us forever, until we're dead. Shattered memories and dreams, and we still are here to pick up the pieces and build some happy life.yet.

We're broken.

"Come on Angel," she urges with an older edge to her voice, something I wish that I never have to hear again. Yet.the girl full of life, of certainty, of humanity, has long gone. But she still remains. "Let's go home."

But that's a lie.

We just, as always, follow our destinies.

And never return home.

END.