PrincessBride1

�It was some time later that Angel regained a semblance of control over his tumultuous emotions, realising with a jolt that he couldn�t remember how he had ended up in the Hyperion Hotel Courtyard, sitting opposite Willow, who appeared equally absorbed in her own thoughts.
Angel felt grief. And intense, unconditional grief that Buffy had died. And there was bitterness that he had not been with her at the end, that he had not known, that he had not been able to attend her funeral.
Underneath the turmoil of his heart and mind, the demon that he carried with him always rejoiced in the knowledge that The Slayer was dead. And yet even the demon within, the creature which had gleefully murdered and maimed for centuries, grieved for Buffy. Even he had loved her, had craved her, had courted her attention.
Buffy had been a beacon to all those that knew, had known, her. She had drawn them all in with her sparkling warmth. A bright conflagration that had refused to be daunted by the darkness it had dealt with. Had burned all the brighter because of it. After all, if you look for a fire in daylight, all you will see is the smoke, you look for it in the dead of night and it shines brightly, announcing it�s presence to anyone who cares to notice.
She had been so strong. Perhaps too strong in recent years, she hadn�t allowed herself to lean on anyone for a long time.
It was his fault of course. He never should have left her, loved her, met her. He had tainted her life.
Angel allowed his thoughts to suck him deeper into himself once again.

Willow glanced around her again. Although she had been waiting for Angel�s return for hours, she had not really begun to absorb her surroundings until Angel had arrived. It was almost as though his being there had lent the hotel its significance.
With a jolt, Willow realised that this was at least partially true. Without Angel, the hotel would just be another crumbling building, built in times gone by and long since forgotten. But now that Angel lived here, worked from here, it had become a fortress of good, a place where the hopeless turned in need and where the knowing prevented evil from fulfilling its nefarious schemes. Just as, in the past, Sunnydale High School Library, Giles� apartment and The Magic Box had been. Thanks to Buffy.
Buffy.
Willow had forced her grief and longing from her friend down into a small knot that lived in the pit of her stomach, stoppering it up with activity and bustle whilst she coped with the fall-out Buffy�s death had caused.
Not that she blamed Buffy for dying� Actually, she did. It was Buffy�s fault that Willow�s closest friend was rotting inside a coffin. If Buffy had been going to die than why couldn�t she have at least had the decency to be turned by a vampire so that Willow could have cursed her with her soul?
Didn�t she know how hard life was going to be in Sunnydale now that she was gone? Couldn�t Buffy have at least warned Willow of what she was intending to do so that Willow could have helped her, stopped her, protected her.
It was Willow�s fault that Buffy was dead. There must have been something she could have done to prevent what had happened.
Now that Willow was no longer actively not thinking about Buffy and the fact that she was dead, her defences were beginning to crumble and her long-bottled emotions were beginning to seep out of their container.

Cordelia sipped at the tea Wesley had made and almost spat it back out into the mug.
What was Wesley thinking?! He knew how she took her tea, when she took it. Black, no sugar. Certainly not this syrupy stewed mixture with milk in it! Maybe the news about Buffy dying had fried his mind. After all, he had been her Watcher. Until Buffy had fired him and he left Sunnydale and got thrown out of the Watchers Council, eventually winding up in LA, where he had met up with herself and Angel.
It�s strange really, Cordelia thought, how the world works. If I had never met Buffy, then I wouldn�t have gotten sucked into the whole �fighting evil, saving the world� thing, never have gotten together with Xander Harris, never have two-timed for Willow Rosenburg, never have been unpopular, probably never have left Sunnydale and would in no way be as happy as I am nowadays. And I�d never have met Doyle or Gru.
Cordelia had a lot to thank Buffy for really. It was a shame she would never had a chance to tell her that. She�d miss Buffy. Although, to be honest, she�d thought she�d see more of her, after all, Cordy did work for Buffy�s �one true love�. But Buffy had only ever come to LA to scream at Angel because he�d done something wrong. Unlike Faith who, subconsciously or not, had come to LA to get Angel to kill her, and Willow, who�d come in her usual capacity of their unofficial messenger from Sunnydale. Cordelia remembered how surprised she�d been to discover that she wasn�t the only former resident of Sunnydale that Willow had been communicating with. And even more surprised to learn that Angel had been writing back!
Buffy would have been surprised to learn exactly how often Angel and Willow wrote to one another. But then again, perhaps not. She�d known that Willow was strong enough and forgiving enough to befriend anyone, even the girl who�d made her school life a misery and a centuries-old vampire sometimes cursed with a soul who�d terrorized her friends and killed her fish. Willow might have been the glue that held them all together but Buffy had been the one that had drawn them together. And now she was dead. Again. This time for good. There would be no third chance at life for Buffy. The world had lost one of it�s fiercest protectors and it was barely even aware of her existence. That was the worst of it. So many people wouldn�t know what Buffy had sacrificed time and time again to keep them safe. They wouldn�t even know her name. History books would not include her. Stephan King would not be asked to write her biography. And that just seemed so wrong. Buffy had given so much and she would never have the recognition she deserved.

Willow dragged herself away from her thoughts, forced her emotions deep down inside herself and looked up from the wooden table she had been staring at for the past ten minutes, straight into Angel�s eyes.

Angel hesitated and then opened his mouth to speak.

As he did, a bolt of dark red lightning arced down from the cloudless sky and smashed down directly between Willow and Angel, shattering the wooden table and sending them flying to opposite corners of the courtyard to lie in broken heaps.