Her eyes were haunting. A shadow of her former self, their vibrancy lost to the ravages of time.

Not that one would notice. They might remark on the sorrow or pain that they held, they might remark how they held mystery, giving her an ageless look, but no one would ever accuse her of looking old, of being an ancient.

But that was how she felt. Alone, immortal throughout time, watching her friends and family fade away, dying through accidents, diseases, and the worst - old age. Not that dying young could ever be considered good, but watching them grow weak and resentful, angry, and finally just confused. It hurt more then words could describe.

She wanted to rail at them, but like a good slayer, she held her tongue. She wanted to scream at them and tell them that they had caused this pain, but she was afraid of alienating the only ones who knew her. Their selfish needs had stopped her from taking her rightful place in heaven, from having a family, from the cycle of aging, and worst of all from the hope of ever reaching heaven again. It was all lost to her, and even her memories of peace grew distant and dim.

She watched, as their descendents grew up, reveled in being the quirky aunt and mysterious cousin. But her family and friends aged, and she never did.

She could only be with them for so long before the comments started: asking her secrets, pleading for her tips on staying young and then requests for the name of her surgeon. After the first few times of watching the teasing curiosity turn into tendrils of fear, she vowed to stay away; to help those she loved when needed, but to physically remain at a distance.

Gradually she lost track of them. She continued to fight the good fight; it was to be her eternal purpose - a consequence of that stupid, selfish spell which yanked her from Heaven. She could no longer die. But was she even really still alive?

She closed her eyes and dreamt a dream. One she had for many years; of a vampire with a soul, but who didn’t need one. A hero- dying in two apocalypses- and she wept.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

His eyes reminded people of a storm. One moment they would sparkle brightly. A thousand stories could be found by gazing into them, yet more often then not they were clouded. As quick as he could laugh, he would rage into a temper; defending his friends, his choices, and even those who died centuries before.

Everyone knew about the one who got away – the one he had loved and lost centuries ago.

His old photo album, well loved. Created from the files of an evil law firm, yet containing candid photos that they were sure were taken when the people were unaware. Yet he treasured it, spent more time in the past than in the present.

His life revolved around what she would have done. What was right, what was noble, what she thought was just.

They had heard all the stories. Of his descent from poet to butcher; a killer trapped by a chip until he found his soul. A girl named Buffy.

He even had a shiny soul of his own once. It had been lost in the first apocalypse, burnt away in a pillar of fire. Yet he fought in another and almost died.

Sometimes he wished that he had. He’d lost his Sire, lost people he respected. Saved by a Blue God and left in a monastery; how was that for irony?

By the time he recovered, his world was shattered. They told him, the Watcher and the Whelp, in full detail how Buffy had died. Distracted by the news from L.A., the death of her soul mate Angel, and yes, the fact that they knew William the Bloody had lost his soul. How they refused to aide them because even though Angel had requested their help, they knew that between the corrupting influences of Wolfram and Heart and a soulless childe that Angel had ventured down the path to evil. How Dawn would never forgive him for, in her eyes, causing the death of her sister. How they wanted nothing more than to dust him, then they turned and walked away.

Never again would he knowingly stay in the same city as a Slayer.

There was still enough evil out there for him to fight against.

Soulless for eternity, yet chained by love.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A prophecy foretold the meeting of two forces. Light and dark. Immortal enemies in a common fight. Brought together by the Powers to redeem actions caused by foolish mortals.

Yet it was simpler than that in the end; a corner crossing, a flash of blonde, two lovers reuniting.

Each thought the other dead, and with one look, their hearts beat anew.

Lovers once denied, reunited in life.

Even the Powers wept with joy.