I'm on a space kick. Yay sci-fi! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Joss Whedon. By the way, I know nothing of Angel the Series. Bear that in mind. Bear in mind also that Spike never came back and the finale of Angel didn't happen. Ok, now you're up to speed.* * * * *
She was too magical to die. That's pretty much what it came down to. After taking in all that magic to end the world, and then to activate the slayers, Willow found that she was just too much of a mystical conduit to age like everybody else. Well, almost everybody else. Poor Dawnie was in the same boat, making up for her lack of childhood with a glut of centuries beyond the normal human lifespan. It made Willow feel better to have her (marginally) younger friend with her. It helped dissuade her from the fear that this was Osiris' revenge for bringing back Buffy. Contrary to the usual modus operandi
for slayers, Buffy had lived to the ripest old age of any of her friends, save her mojo-battery pal and sister, and her high school sweetheart.
Oh yes, Angel was still around, torn between sympathetic grief for their immortality, and deepest relief that he would not have to live centuries without friends. The last time he was truly alone for any stretch of time he became a smelly, useless, homeless, crazy person. It wasn't a state he relished the thought of returning to. As the resident expert on being super old while looking card-ably young, the new immortals looked to Angel to show them the ropes, so to speak. Under his tutelage, they stayed relatively happy and sane. They spent enough time together for comfort while not so much that they got dangerously sick of one another. Angel said that happened with vampires all the time.
And so years went by, and they each developed their specialties when it came to blending in with the generations. Dawn kept them culturally up-to-date. She expertly guided her friends through the changing styles, through the Chinese fusion, getting them the clothes, vernacular, and references needed to function in the ever-changing modern world. She was, in effect, their Vogue, MTV, and IMDB all in one deceptively cute little package.
Willow was, as usual, the technophile of the group. She found out about all the up-and-coming advancements in science, and made sure that her friends knew how to use the latest in fancy hardware--or were at the very least aware of the progressing tech trends. She had some natural resistance from Angel, who still thought that electric lights and ballpoint pens were pretty nifty, but she had a convincing argument. Two of the winning points were “you will probably need to use some of this stuff when I'm not around” and “not knowing which end is up is going to make you look really stupid.”
Angel, for his part, took care of the finances and politics. He made investments to keep them comfortable throughout the centuries, exploiting the wonder that is compound interest when one has all the time in the world, and more. He also kept them abreast of the political climate, keeping contacts that could let them know who was likely to be in power now and in the near and distant futures, so as to keep the old friends on the winning side. Or the moral side, when it wasn't too imprudent. Angel figured that if he could juggle the upper class of the eighteenth century at the same time as thriving in vampire politics, there was no reason he couldn't handle scheming government officials. Especially since the three friends made sure they played no more than a bit part in the visible workings of the world.
If the were too in the public eye, people would start to get suspicious of their perpetually youthful appearances. Anonymous tips, discreet patents; that was how they operated in normal society. They continued to be movers and shakers in the anti-apocalypse circles, of course. But that business had such a high turnover rate anyway, a few well placed aliases and glamours made them less of a fascinating target to evildoers or a fascinating puzzle/ultimate weapon to the more misguided on the side of Light. They stood and fought as the stars began to be explored, until the Earth couldn't support people anymore. Too many all at once had made it uninhabitable for humans.
When all the humans were leaving, the stupider demons rejoiced at finally achieving hell on earth, but the smarter ones realized that no food for people meant no people for food. Dawn, Willow, and Angel each had their theories about hat happened to the demons back home, but it wasn't quite compelling enough to go back and check. Unlike most, they kept track of exactly where the Sol system was, if only for Angle's sake. Through extremely careful trial and error, they had found that the only star that had negative effects on vampires was the sun of the planet where they'd all come from. It really ought to have been the study of hundreds of giddy watchers and parapsychologists, but alas, as the only vampire in space (so far as the immortal trio knew) nobody realized that there was a mystery begging to be researched and speculated on.
In fact, as the paranormal was left behind on earth, watchers and other professional researchers of the supernatural became obsolete. Most turned their energies elsewhere, snuggling down in the more mundane dimensions of academia, or perfecting interstellar crime-fighting. Many of the ancestors of the immortals' old friends went into such fields.
Yes, they kept track of how their friends' children's children (and so on) were doing, watched them follow in the footsteps of Buffy, Xander, Giles and company. Sure, there was the odd dentist or shopkeeper, but a great deal of them were fighters, all striving to make a better world, er, worlds. Every couple of generations, the need to feel close to their long-lost friends would drive one of the old folks to get in touch with some far removed relative of the missed persons. They'd met Harrises and Wyndham-Prices of all shapes and sizes. There'd been flocks of Gileses and fleets of Finns. Buffy's kids (Dawn's nieces and nephews) always got cards from their great-great-great-etc. Auntie.
These days, Willow, Angel, and Dawn were spending a refreshing half-decade apart. They were about half way through when Willow was browsing the Cortex and stumbled onto a page that reminded her of Gunn. Gunn. She hadn't seen his family in about a century, not since his granddaughter many times removed had married that Book fellow. Maybe it was time to pay them a visit. With some quick research and one call, she had reserved passage on a shiny new Firefly to their native planet.
Persephone was a fun kind of world. It was a bit like Sunnydale in that the bad part of town was just a half a block from the wealthy part. The Book family was situated in the classier part of town, but that was not where she expected to find their youngest. No, if he was anything like his forebears, he'd likely be found in the grittier, more exciting places on the planet—though, if he were clever, he wouldn't stray more than an hour or so from hearth and home.
Sometimes Willow and her friends had would concoct elaborate ruses to meet the new twigs of the family tree. They'd held balls, been in a carefully selected "right place at the right time with the right offer," and a couple of times even staged a robbery. But this time Willow wasn't too concerned about all the intrigue, she'd had plenty over the past few years. Besides, all that kind of stuff was way better with an accomplice. This time she was just going to wander and ask around until she saw him. She started looking for anyone resembling the last Gunn she'd met the moment she stepped of the ship and into the Eavesdown Docks. The noon sun was high and warm as she picked her way around vendors and hooligans.
She was just looking for a likely person to ask when she heard a sort of familiar laugh. Ah, that had to be him. Willow walked carefully up to the turned back of the laughing man. He was the right sort of height, not too tall, but not shrimpy either. She reached up and gently tapped on his shoulder. As he turned around, Willow suppressed a gasp. Book blood did fine things to the Gunn line. This was the hottest Gunn in centuries! She was so distracted that she didn't even think of a reason to have tapped on his shoulder, just extended her hand and said, "I'm Willow. It's great to meet you."
Looking slightly wary, a little confused, but a little more intrigued, the young man took her hand and replied in a smooth, deep voice, "Derrial."* * * * *
Ok, so I don't own Vogue or MTV or IMDB either