TITLE: Adoration AUTHOR: seraC EMAIL: seraphcelene@yahoo.com SPOILERS: I Will Remember You and To Shanshu in L.A. RATING: PG ARCHIVING: Essential-Imperfect, Buffy Fiction Archive. All others please ask. SUMMARY: He is a Champion and he is her favorite. NOTES: This started out as a pretty uninspired Shanshu fic that turned into a vehicle for character exploration. So, although plot is pretty scarce I got to play with a new character. FEEDBACK: Is like air, highly necessary. In other words, yes please! THANKS: To my amazing betas. Moonwhip for the challenge and inspiration and to Arrie (Honey, I tried to give you a more passionate Angel but it never quite clicked). DISCLAIMER: Angel and all related characters belong to Joss Whedon, Sandollar, the Warner Company, et al. I’m just taking them out for a little exercise. Adoration Lower being. She would laugh at anyone who would dare call him that. They need only look at him as he stands in the light of grace, at the crux of eternity, and is fearless. She is aware of his losses, his sacrifices. So are they. She can see the chinks in his armor as he stands in the midst of forever, though he is dark-eyed and bold. So can they. Though the light is brighter than the sun, he does not look away. He does not flinch. Lower being! He is favored here. And although she is not a god, she is charmed and she adores him. Angel. She appears to him in a burst of laughter like the singing of wind chimes. With the light sliding off the delicate silver of her skin she knows that she is beautiful. Her eyes are bluer than a summer sky and she is aware of her laughter's sparkling allure. She is gentle with him, her favorite. “You have served us well. You are a worthy Champion. Worthy of Shanshu. Salvation is yours.” Angel shifts slightly and watches her approach, his eyes askance. “I remember you,” he says as she draws closer. “You died. You were killed.” She smiles widely as she reaches up to stroke his cheek, a man’s watch sliding along her slender wrist. “Yes. Indeed. My brother and I were murdered. But The Powers That Be have access to all. I am fond of you and they have agreed to allow me to present you with the terms of your gift.” She pauses; there is always something to be said for drama. “Your . . . humanity, if you like.” His face grows dark with anger. “Terms? What terms? The prophecy said nothing about terms.” He moves restlessly, the muscles across his shoulders shifting beneath his sweater. “I did what they wanted. I averted the Apocalypse. I saved the world. What else is there?” Angel looms when he is angry, but the Oracle is unconcerned. She is amused by the display. “Your path has not always been pure. There are . . . atonements to be made.” “Atonements.” His frown is forbidding, unbelieving. The space around them hums and crackles with the sharp brilliance of his soul. He has given up much in combat for the side of Good, to come to this place where he may claim his life and his soul. Their names are scrawled across his heart in varying wavelengths of light: Fred. Gunn. Connor. He has sacrificed and died for Right. He loves deeply and truly and his love is forever. She would gift him anything, if she could. But such matters are not her concern. A trifle, her brother’s voice whispers in her ear. “Your heart cages a beast and he has not always been contained.” She knows that this is not what he wants to hear. “You’re still punishing me for Angelus?” She watches confusion and disappointment ripple across his face. “I thought -- I thought the curse...” “Yes and No. That is a concern of human preoccupation. It is the frenzy of sorrow and wrath. We have no interest in that here.” Her eyes slide away from his. The Powers That Be are exacting, and they are vengeful. She knows that they can be vengeful. But it is better if he does not know. He has fought hard and the battle, ultimately, was won in their favor. She does not relish the idea of breaking his heart. “Shanshu. Is a gift. It is offered to you. You are granted a wish.” She raises a single finger. “One wish for eternity.” “A wish? Just like that. A wish?” His suspicion is daring and she smiles. “You must make a choice.” The curve of her mouth slips for just a moment. “Continued immortality and the Slayer. Or. The life of a human, with all attendant joys and sorrows,” her smile is wicked. “And the Seer.” She tilts her head slightly to one side, proffering one hand for each option. “The choice is yours.” Angel shakes his head slightly in disbelief. “Will I lose my soul again?” She can guess at the train of his thoughts. “Your immortality will hold the same conditions as it does now. The curse will remain.” “Why,” he asks again. Anger makes his voice deep and hard. “I don’t understand. The prophecy . . .” “Was not a guarantee," the Oracle interrupts, raising a hand to stop the flow of his words. “It is merely. An offering. Reception of the gift rests with you. You may refuse it, if you wish.” She shrugs gently. “These things have rules. There are always rules.” She watches as he prowls the white space, his strides devouring the light. Such intensity. He feels so strongly. Lesser being. She would challenge that designation. “Humanity,” he says and she can hear the sound of sun and the laughter of children in his voice. “And Cordelia. Or Buffy. It isn’t much of a choice, is it?” The Oracle smiles gently. She is not unkind. “We like you very much, Angel.” She is serious and earnest, concerned for the destiny that could be his. “What would make you most happy?” There are ways, and she knows them, to ensure that this warrior receives a happy ending. But, though he is dear to her, he can be unpredictable. She waits for his answer. Sometimes, there are things that can be done. “Death,” he whispers solemnly. “I choose death.” She is surprised. She tilts her head and the air is filled with the sound of ringing bells. The Powers That Be did not expect this. She can hear their astonishment in voices that sing in her head. One corner of her mouth curls slightly. “That is not an option.” His jaw is made of granite and his eyes are resolute. “It’s an option. It’s an option if I have to stand in the middle of the 405 at high noon.” “Very well. If you are sure.” She is in love with his decisiveness. He is so determined and sure. He nods briefly. “I’m sure.” “She will not live forever, but she will live longer than most of her kind. You are so very willing to wait for her?” She really doesn’t need to ask. He is a Warrior. He is a Champion and he is her favorite. She steps forward and slides her hands gently down his chest. In this space between now and forever, his soul radiates warmth. She smiles up at him and remembers his gifts to her and to the world. They will never know that he was among those who prevented the End of Days. They will never know, but she does and she loves him for it. Her parting words, too, are a gift. “It will be as you wish, and together you have forever.” She knows that her smile is brilliant against the silver of her skin and that forever he will remember the impossible beauty of her eyes as she fades into the light. She is so very fond of him. Before she disappears completely, she catches the sound of his voice like the whisper of a memory: “Forever, that’s the whole point.” end