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TITLE: Saved the Last Dance

AUTHOR: Copper

EMAIL: coppersinger@yahoo.com     

DISCLAIMER: Owned by JW, WB, Mutant Enemy, Fox, the writers and the actors who bring these amazing characters to life. Anything you recognize is theirs, only the plot is mine. Title is from the song of the same name so it’s not officially mine – but I don’t think they have complete claim on the phrase…but in case, theirs not mine.

COPYRIGHT: 2001.

SPOILERS: Nothing specific.

TIMELINE: After the End of Days, but canon breaks after mid-S5/S2 or so.

SYNOPSIS: When the battles are won, love gets the last dance.

RATING: NC-17

DISTRIBUTION: If you all ready have permission, it’s yours; if not, just ask.

NOTES: It started as a songfic and ended as this.  Hope you like it.

FEEDBACK: Is always appreciated.

DEDICATION: To Blaze – for tangents, inspiration, and support.


The light illuminated the floor, not overly crowded but pulsing with life.  Men and women; teenagers moving awkwardly or brashly and adults of varied ages, some sitting just off the floor enjoying drinks and conversation, some moving either copying the teens, albeit more fluidly, or showing they’re own moves, and yet others content to sway gently in the arms of a friend or lover.

The man who had just entered smiled at the sight before heading to the bar to order an iced mocha – his newest addiction.  (Cordy had insisted they go for coffee at some fancy coffee bar, and he’d recognized ‘mocha’ as something she used to love.  Of course, he’d ended up paying the bill, too.)  Taking a sip, his dark brown eyes skimmed the crowd, stopping at a dark blonde dancing in the middle of the dance floor.  Walking back to the dimly lit area in the right corner, he took a seat and watched.

Angel recognized the song as the one she’d danced to – ‘mated’ he recalled saying – all those years ago with Xander.  Her movements were no less seductive now: the slim hips rocking in time, arms moving in a sensual style that reminded him of the eastern belly-dancers, and lips curved in a small smile.  Though men of all ages surrounded Buffy, he could tell that she had no awareness of them; and for their part they seemed to recognize that the invitation of that smile wasn’t for them.  Now and then, she stopped to rest and chat with someone, or get a drink.  A couple times, the staring eyes watched her move into the arms of someone, only mildly jealous, knowing that soon she would be with him.  The newly beating heart in his chest skipped when he watched his love walk off the floor hand-in-hand with a lean blond, only to relax when she returned moments later brushing dust off her leather skirt. 

By this time it was early morning, and the club was less crowded.  When the bartender announced last call, he knew it was time and started to rise.  A soft laugh and a small, but strong, hand slipping into his caused him to look down.

“Finally ready to join me?”  Buffy asked laughingly.

“Well…” Angel grinned ruefully; he should have guessed she’d sense him.

Lightly tugging, she pulled him to the floor, “I ‘saved the last dance for you,’” paraphrasing the song playing.

Each had made mistakes, had hurt and been hurt.  They’d shared their bodies with others, to drown the loneliness or to take comfort where they could.  But all the pain, the joy, the tears shed for those lost, for what or who they had sometimes become made them into who they were meant to be, as warriors and as people.  And finally, it was their time.

The battles, those of the End of Days and the personal ones, were over.  Dawn had been returned to her original state in order to win, and though Buffy missed her, she knew and accepted her ‘sister’s’ choice, but she thanked the powers that her mother hadn’t been there to see it.  Joyce had died the year before of a tumour, this time inoperable.

All her other friends, and Angel’s, had survived – battered, bruised but gloriously alive. Angel had gained his Shanshu, his heartbeat strong in the blonde’s ear as the well-muscled chest rose and fell with each breath. 

A now warm hand raised her chin for a kiss, lips brushing in a feathery caress.  “It’s time to go.”

Slightly dazed from the feeling, a feeling so long buried, she murmured, “Go?”

Chuckling, his voice was husky as he said, “Yes, go home.”

They left the club and walked to the apartment he’d bought upon selling the hotel.

Once there, there was little talk, each having anticipated the moment all night, as they watched and waited.

This time, it was a feminine hand that initiated the meeting of lips, pulling Angel’s dark head down to hers.  Just brushing each other’s mouths, full slightly pouting lips meeting thinner but generous ones, relearning the other moment by moment.  Slowly, the brushing became sipping, and then tongues traced contours and indentations.  Catching their breath, chocolate met hazel green, in glance indefinable yet understood.  Again, they met, passion unleashed as the tongues gained entry to the other’s mouth, exploring, dueling, caressing, and spearing… imitating the dance to come.

As the fire burned brighter, hands removed clothing first slow then with disregard for buttons and zippers, and then the loving calmed again.

Stepping back, Buffy had her first real view of Angel, vulnerable yet proud in his arousal, muscles corded as he kept control of his desire, and a tear fell at his beauty.  And he, for his part, was no less awed by the beauty of her puckered dusky nipples, the moisture shining on the inside of her thighs.  However, the fire still burned and the time apart had been too long.

Though hands touched, quickly, fleetingly, yet still passionately, it was clear that all they really needed was to be together and sinking to the ground on a soft, thick rug, man met woman in the dance as old as time.  Thrusting in counterpoint, the movements were primitive and when the climax came, he grabbed her head for a kiss unlike any before, loving yet so blatantly carnal, pouring all of themselves into the other, as though each was marking the other as theirs.

When it was again possible, Angel rose and carried his lover to the bedroom.  Before lying down beside her, Angel retrieved a small velvet pouch and handed it to her.  Buffy smiled as the contents were revealed and as he had so many years ago, Angel placed the small ring on her left ring finger, and she placed the larger one on his.  And as each placed a kiss on the rings just returned, they renewed the vows of friendship, loyalty and love.

Later the sun streamed down on the entwined pair and, like their love, the two rings shone. 

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