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The Gift.

Everybody had decided it the moment he had walked into the church. Angel was a wreck. They all knew why and all wished that they could change it. But the only way was to bring her back and that Willow had almost resolved on doing so, this very night.

Angel walked up to the coffin, steeling himself to face the sight of his beloved lying in there. He came upon too soon and could not refrain from collapsing the moment he saw her face. No one could bear to remove him, so he was left to try and conquer his grief on his own. He could not do it, he could not live without her. Why, he asked rhetorically. Why?


He stilled upon the instance of the sound. Convinced he was dreaming. He waited to be proved right.


This time he could not mistake it. It was her voice. He looked up towards the head, and found her eyes open and colour upon her cheeks. A strangled cry escaped him.

Buffy sat up, unaware that she was causing everyone at her funeral the shock of their lives. Her only thoughts were on him. He was her first and last love, she realised. Nothing could replace him. She had been foolish to even pretend someone could. she leant forward and kissed him.

Angel did not hesitate and his heart rejoiced by beating suddenly as sunlight stole through the stain glass window beside them, not hurting his human form at all. Their trials were over. They only had the future left. And what a future it would be.