FIC: Love of a Lifetime

Author: Jill

Disclaimer: Sadly I have to admit, I do not own them, for this they have to suffer in the show and can only live happily in fanfic ... or not! (evil grin)

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: B/A, B/R (well, not really)

Distribution: my site, Land of Denial, Sunlight&Shadow, ACS-Fanfictionrealm, several other sites, if you have any of my stories just take it, anybody else please tell me where it goes

Spoilers: the whole B/A-cannon is a sure bet

Summary: Years into the future two "enemies" have an unexpected encounter

Feedback: it's like cookies, it's not really needed, but makes life much sweeter

Dedication: To Michelle and her story "Irrestistible". Sorry I'm so lazy with feedback these days. And to Gem. Sorry, I didn't send feedback at all for your last story. It was great btw.

Note: not beta-read. All faults are mine! Sorry for that, but I was impatient to send this out!

He was so tired he could hardly stand upright anymore. Fighting demons, night and day, had made him weary and losing hope. Burying friends and loved ones ... he wasn't seeing the light at the end of the tunnel anymore. But he kept going nevertheless. What else could he do?

Greeting the sun wasn't an option. Not anymore. Once, many years ago, so many years, he couldn't count anymore, he'd considered it, but a sunny afternoon, and a golden girl, had given his life a purpose. Even the bone deep weariness he felt now couldn't chase that away.

He was on his way home and he hated it. His home wasn't what it had been anymore. In all fairness he had to admit that the apartment was actually nice, but it was empty. It had no warmth in it. No soul. No life. Because nobody was living there. Exept him. And he was dead.

He had been dead for a long time. More than 300 odd years.

There had been times when he'd felt alive, despite his unbeating heart. He'd felt alive, it had been almost painful. And there had been times, or rather a time, an incredibly precious, all too short time, when he'd been alive for real. Angel took a long, steadying breath and pushed the memories away. It wasn't time and place to wallow in them. Los Angeles at 2.00 a.m. was a dangerous place and being lazy for even a short moment could be the end of it.

The city had lost all its pulsing life, the aura of youth and success. With the pull of the hellmouth in Sunnydale, the demons were still coming and the battles were getting harder and seemed fruitless. Sometimes, Angel thought, he was slaying one demon, only to face another five the next day. And still he kept going.

There were days when he almost reached the edge, but every time, Buffy's eyes kept creeping into his conscious, forcing him to go on, to fight, to not give up.

He'd seen them die. All his friends. Doyle had been the first.

Then Buffy.

Yes, she'd come back. But that couldn't wipe away the myriad of emotions he'd felt when Willow had told him. And it hadn't prepared him for the time when he'd lost her for good. He'd known all the time. Yes, she was the slayer, but she was still mortal. And her day had come. Not even 30, she had left this planet for good. She'd been the longest surviving slayer in history and three days before her 30th birthday she'd finally met the vampire that had been stronger. Or maybe she'd given up. Maybe she'd decided it was time. That someone else should go on fighting the good fight. Maybe she'd been tired and weary, the way he was now. They would never know now.

Drawing another unnecessary breath in his dead lungs, Angel fought the welling up of emotions and failed. He did that a lot these days. He'd never been a cry baby, but recently, whenever his mind kept wandering to better days, days filled with a blond girl, and laughter, the tears were coming.

His vision blurred and he never saw the demon coming. The claws were huge and sharp and buried themselves into Angel's gut. The vampire cried out in pain and tried to push the demon away. But it was strong and kept attacking him. The other of the giant claws hit his shoulder and cried out again. Then, suddenly, his brain remembered the sword hidden on his back and with an inhuman effort he ran it right through his oponent. Yellow glue was shot into the air and with a hoarse groan the demon took its last breath.

The sword clattered to the ground and panting heavily, the pain making him feel dizzy, Angel leaned against a wall, then slid down, glad he could sit for a moment. Leaning his head back against the cold stone, he closed his eyes and tried to will down the pain that threatened to overpower his senses. He'd been hurt frequently in his long life, but those claws had been damned sharp, and they had cut almost right through him. The gaping hole in his stomach shone bright red and looked ugly. He wouldn't die from it, but it hurt like hell.

"Are you alright, son?"

Slowly Angel opened his eyes and they fell on an old man, who had to be in his eighties. He must have been a tall man, but his back was bent now, the face wrinkled with age, the hair almost gone. The vampire couldn't say what colour it had been, now it was plain white. The eyes however were piercing blue, and for a moment Angel felt something stirr inside of him. As if he should remember, but couldn't get a grip on it.

"I'll live," he said slowly, looking at the stranger.

"But you don't look too good," the man replied, leaning heavily on his cane. "I've been with the army," he chuckled slightly, "A lifetime ago. And I had my share of wounds too. But nothing ever looked that bad."

"Yeah, well, it hurts like hell," Angel admitted dryly. "But it won't kill me."

"That was some demon you were fighting," the old man said, shaking his head in a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Angel wasn't surprised. Not anymore. There had been times, when people had denied the existence of demons and vampires. But those times were long gone. These days they knew, and they were scared. Usually a mere human would never risk coming out after sundown. Garlic, crosses, and Holy Water had become essential again.

"It was strong," Angel agreed, nodding towards the dead figure on the ground. The yellow glue was drying and looking almost orange now. And it didn't smell too good.

"It's a Drohnian," the man said, shaking his head again. "I've only seen one once. A long time ago."

That peaked the vampire's interest. Yes, people knew about demons these days, but only very few knew the different species. "Where did you see it?," he asked.

Slowly the man turned back to him, "In the cages of the Initiative. You remember that name, don't you, Angel?"

Angel's eyes widened at the mention of his name and he eyed the stranger speculatively, the pain momentarily forgotten. "Who are you? And how do you know my name?"

At that the stranger sighed and with clumsy movements managed to sit down beside the injured vampire. "Your name," he said, a little bit breathless from the effort, "has haunted me for a long time." He sighed again, "Angel. What a name for a vampire. A man. An ensouled demon. Yeah," he said, seeing the vampire's stunned look, "I know a lot about you. She didn't tell me everything, but a lot. And when she did, I hated you. God, I hated you, and wanted you dead."

"Am I supposed to understand all this?," Angel asked.

"You will. Soon. Or as soon as you know my name. Which is ...," he paused, rubbing a hand over his face, then chuckled. "probably *not* the best idea. I'm not sure this night will be peaceful anymore, as soon as you know."

"Peaceful?" Angel quirked a brow and glanced at the dead demon again.

The chuckle turned into a short laugh. "You're right. Nothing peaceful about that. Okay then. Maybe you don't even remember me. But maybe," he shrugged. He turned slightly, held out a hand, "Riley Finn, nice to meet you."

Riley Finn. Angel's eyes widened in shock, and not able to move, he just stared at the ex-commando, once a strong, blond, young man, now old and fragile. Riley Finn. That name had haunted his dreams, had kept him sleepless more than one night. And now he was sitting beside him.

"Riley," the vampire said slowly, and took the offered hand. "That's ... uh ..."

"A surprise, I suppose," the ex-commando chuckled. "Yeah. It was one for me too. I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw you fighting that demon. I knew you were around somewhere, but," he shook his head, "I never expected to run into you."

"What are you doing out on the streets at night? It's not safe."

"Not many things are safe these days," the ex-commando replied. "It's hard to get old, you know. It's even harder when you realise the world you're going to leave it worse than the one you're born into. I have no idea what kind of life my grand-children will have to face. But I'm scared."

Angel tilted hid head and looked at the moon, "You've got grand-kids?"

"Hell, yeah," Riley answered, fingering into his pockets to find his wallet. Producing three pictures he handed them to Angel. Flipping through them, the vampire saw two young women and a man in his twenties. The resemblance to his grand-father was striking.

Handing the pictures back, he smiled slightly, "They look healthy and happy," he commented.

"They do," Riley agreed. "Now. The question is, for how long. They are living in Iowa. Not in one of the big cities, and life is better there. But times are getting darker."

Ignoring the last sentence, Angel looked back up at the moon. "So I suppose you were married at some point."

"Yeah," the ex-commando smiled a toothless smile, "Monica. My wife's name was Monica. I met her when I returned to Iowa. I was exhausted and disillusioned from a long trip to Brazil, and she got me back on my feet again. We married a year later." He smiled again, then added quietly, "She died six years ago. We had four children. And they had children, as you saw. Chance, my grand-son, is already engaged."

The moon seemed brighter tonight. The stars were sparkling, and although the whole city was infested with demons, now, at that moment, it was peaceful. They had once faced each other in anger, even in hatred, certainly in jealousy, they had fought each other, but here and now it wasn't important anymore. Years had gone by and all the feelings that had once cut deep didn't count.

"Were you ever able to forget her?," Angel asked quietly. There was no name needed. There was only one "she" they had in common.

"Did you?," Riley asked back instead of answering the other man's question, yet the question was the answer.

No of course, none of them had ever forgotten her. "You married and had children with another woman," the vampire said after a moment.

"And you have a shaky soul," the ex-commando replied. "Yes, I married, and I loved Monica. I truly loved her. She was the love of my life. But that doesn't mean I'd ever forget Buffy. She was the first woman I ever fell in love with. You don't forget something like that."

"No, probably not," Angel mused, leaning his back against the wall, closing his eyes again. "What was Monica like?"

"She was ...," Riley chuckled, "nothing like Buffy. She was not as strong, not as brave. She was ... womanly, my mother would say. She loved being at home, she wanted children, she wanted a family. She was a year older than I. And she had black hair."

The vampire chuckled as well, "Yeah. It really doesn't sound like Buffy." It had always been painful saying her name, but now it wasn't. And it was a strange feeling. Thinking about her, and not feeling sad. But she was dead. And thinking about her should be painful, yet it wasn't. Not tonight. Maybe there was magic in the air. Angel didn't know.

"You loved her," Riley said and it wasn't a question.

A little bit startled, Angel opened his eyes again. He studied the ex-commando's face, then nodded slowly, "Yeah. I loved her. What did you call Monica? The love of your life. Well, Buffy was mine. The first, the last."

"Come on," Riley gave the vampire an incredulous gaze. "Your first? Your last? You've been around for what ... 300 years? And you're telling me that there wasn't anyone beside her?"

"No," Angel said quietly. "There wasn't. I ... I wasn't the falling-in-love guy while I was human and vampires, the soulless kind, don't do love. And later," he shook his head, "after I got my soul back, I wasn't exactly communicating with other humans, or vampires for that matter. Then I saw her. It happened so fast. I was in deep before I even realised it."

"Wow," Riley said, not just a little awed. He'd hated demons and vampires throughout his whole life, and this one in particular, but now he found himself in unfamiliar territory. The feeling he had now, was close to admiration. He wasn't sure he liked it. On the other hand, if you reached the age of 86 you were bound to act strange sometimes, weren't you?

"She loved you too," he said, smiling slightly. "All the time. Every day. She never forgot about you. Yes, she tried. She even tried to love me, but it wouldn't happen. You were there," he put his flat hand over his heart, "Always."

"I know," Angel replied, his lips twitching when he saw the ex-commando's eyes widen. "Yeah. I know," he repeated. "I doubted it sometimes. For a while I thought I was just some ... teenage infatuation. Hell, I made myself believe that. It was the only way I-," he suddenly broke off, shaking his head, the memories almost drowning him. "But later, after you left, I realised we would always be together. One way or another."

"I used to hate you for it. I even convinced myself you held some sort of thrall over her. But of course I was only fooling myself. I didn't understand. Only when Monica came into my life, I realised what it was for her to be without you."

Sighing, Riley took his cane from the spot where it was lying beside him. "I need to go. This cold ground is poison to my aching joints. And you should take care of your wounds," he nodded at Angel's stomach, and gasped when he saw the hole was almost closed.

The vampire chuckled, then with a swift motion was on his feet, "Vampire healing," he said simply and offered the old human a hand. Riley took it gratefully and grimaced when his joints were cracking.

"I would like to see you again," he said, not sure how the vampire might react. "This has to be difficult for you. I suppose all your friends are dead now. We could ... talk."

Angel raised a brow, "Talk?"

"You know, about old times. Vampire hunting. I'm on my own now. My family is in Iowa, as I told you. And I get lonely too, sometimes. I know we weren't ... friends, but that doesn't mean, we couldn't-"

"No," Angel interrupted him. "I know it might sound harsh and I even appreciate the offer, but," he shook his head sadly, "no. I can't-," his voice cracked. Clearing his throat, he started again, "I just can't talk about this all the time."

After a moment, Riley nodded slowly, "Alright. I understand." Then he reached into his pocket, and held something out to the vampire, "This is my card. My grand-son does them. He gave them to me for a birthday present. He's some computer wizzard, you know. Just in case...," he trailed off.

Hesistating only shortly, Angel accepted the card and put it into his leather jacket. He was glad it hadn't been damaged in the fight. He'd reclaimed it more than 50 years ago, taken it with him from Sunnydale after the funeral. When he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could still smell her scent on it. It was painful, yes, but it was also strangely soothing.

He had never allowed himself to get close to a woman again. Not that he even wanted to. Sex was forbidden to him, although after his encounter with Darla, he wasn't too sure anymore, but he'd had enough meaningless sex during his times as a soulless demon, and he couldn't believe there could be anything out there for him again that could come close to what he'd felt for Buffy. And after her, he would never settle for the second best. It wouldn't be fair to the woman either.

"Thanks," Angel said, looking at Riley Finn. He shrugged, "I have to go now."

"You do that," the ex-commando replied. "It was ... interesting ... meeting you."

"Yeah," the vampire agreed. Yes, it had been interesting.

With a last glance they parted, the vampire soon disappearing in the shadows of the moonlight.

Angel turned the key and opened his door, but froze instantly in seeing the light in his living-room. Something wasn't quite right. He'd felt it the moment he'd entered the building, but his thoughts still with Riley Finn, he hadn't paid attention. Slowly, carefully, he closed the door behind him, and moved towards the living-room.

Entering it he gasped. Maybe it was just the night for strange encounters.

Or maybe for miracles.

He blinked. And blinked. And blinked again.

Then, finally, finding his voice, he managed to say her name. "Buffy."

END