PART FOUR

 

*********************

 

PHOENIX BURNING

 

by Yahtzee

 

Yahtzee63@aol.com

 

*********************

 

Chapter Twenty-One

 

"In the Form of a Sister"

 

 

Sky stared at her for a long moment, her expression confused, dismayed -- but not guilty. "What the hell are you doing here?" she finally said. Her crossbow remained aimed.

 

"I think that's my question," Buffy said. Between the physical and emotional shock, Buffy felt as though she might pass out any second. But she also knew she couldn't afford to do that. She had to stay focused. "You -- you killed Tam --"

 

Sky's youthful face set into a determined glare. "This is Council business," she said, her words sounding rehearsed, careful. "You're not to interfere."

 

"You're murdering people!" Buffy said. "That's not Council business. Sky, these are the witches who were going to help us with the Museum raid --"

 

She held out her good hand as she spoke. Sky skittered back, aimed the crossbow right at Buffy's chest. "Don't come any closer!"

 

Sky sounded like she meant it -- Sky sounded so young --

 

"You're not going to shoot me," Buffy said, making her voice soothing. It was easy; she believed it wholeheartedly. "I know you don't want to do that, Sky. I don't understand what's going on here. There's -- there's been some big mistake, or something --"

 

"No, you don't understand," Sky said. In the darkness, Buffy could see the glint of tears welling in the young Slayer's eyes. "No mistake."

 

"The Council sent you here to kill these people?" Buffy was beginning to shake in earnest now. Tam lay dead only a few feet away -- Tam, who had believed in Buffy and had died for it. "Why?"

 

Sky lifted her chin. "They trust me," she said. "I may not be some big famous Slayer or something, but the Council knows they can trust me."

 

"I wasn't asking why you're special!" Buffy snapped, then thought better of yelling at the person who had a crossbow aimed at her heart. "Sky, why does the Council want to kill human beings? People who want to help us?"

 

"I never asked why," Sky said. She shrugged, but her shaky, high-pitched voice gave away her emotion. "Council's got its reasons. Not ours to question."

 

"The hell it's not --" The rush of anger Buffy turned into a rush of something else; her physical and emotional overexertion hit her all at once, and her knees buckled. She stumbled back, sat down hard on the ground to keep from falling down. The stake tumbled from her trembling hand.

 

"Get up," Sky said.

 

"I can't," Buffy said, knowing it was true.

 

"You have to," Sky said. "You have to get up. You have to fight me -- I can't do this unless you fight me --"

 

Buffy remembered Noor's body hanging from its pole, remembered the deep cuts and fighting gashes on her face and arms. "Does that make it easier?" Buffy said. "When somebody fights you? Did Noor fight you?"

 

"Noor went off on her own," Sky said. Her voice was very small, very young. "We're not meant to do that, y'see? And when she saw what we were doing --

 

For a minute Sky looked younger and more vulnerable than Buffy had ever seen her. Then she squared her shoulders and repeated, "Get up."

 

"I can't," Buffy said. "I'm hurt. You don't mind cutting people down in cold blood, Sky. You've done it before --"

 

"Don't say I don't mind! I -- I --" Sky was shaking again. "They need me! The Council needs me. Because I understand, and none of you do --" She let out a thin, keening wail. "I'm sorry -- I wish I didn't have to -- I -- I like you."

 

Buffy's face was twisting up with her own tears. "I used to like you too, Sky. But I can't help you out now. If you want to kill me, you're going to have to do it with me here on the ground. I can't fight you. I don't think I can even walk. And what difference does it make? You're murdering me all the same. My pretending to fight you means nothing. You're the Council's good soldier? Then come on and do your duty. I've seen something I wasn't supposed to see. You have to kill me. You have to do it."

 

Sky stared at her for a long moment. Then she stepped forward and put the crossbow to Buffy's head. "G'bye, then --"

 

Oh, shit, Buffy thought.

 

Lightning fast, she locked her good hand around Sky's elbow and twisted. Sky cried out in pain and fired -- but the arrow only grazed the side of Buffy's head. Buffy pulled Sky down hard, knocking their heads together with as much force as she could muster. The resulting wave of pain and dizziness nearly made Buffy pass out, but she held on. Sky fell to her knees with a cry, but she viciously tugged her arm free of Buffy's desperate grip so that she could aim again --

 

Buffy grabbed her stake in her hand and struck.

 

Sky screamed -- or tried to scream. Buffy had hit her in the neck. Blood was spraying out, flowing down her chest, and she stared at Buffy for one long, shocked moment before she fell back.

 

Oh, God, no, Buffy thought. I -- I didn't mean to -- did I mean to --

 

She leaned over Sky, who was now convulsing in the dirt. "I'm sorry!" Buffy pleaded. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry --"

 

Sky spat blood in her face. Buffy looked away.

 

It took Sky another few minutes to die. Buffy sat beside her, feeling her own blood oozing from her reopened wound. Her clothing was wet through with blood, whether Sky's or Tam's or her own, and the night air was chilling it, turning it cold and damp and congealed.

 

The fire consuming the building continued to blaze. Buffy watched it burn.

 

After Sky had been dead for a few minutes, Buffy heard a rustling not too far away. Vampire, she thought dully.

 

Then something in her brain switched on again, and she thought, Oh, vampire.

 

Buffy tried to stand, but her legs were still too weak. Instead, she scooted back, pushing herself through the dirt until she could tip her body into the transport. She got to her knees to push the panel that closed the door -- just in time, apparently, to judge by the thump that sounded against the transport right after it clanged shut.

 

She dragged herself back to the driver's seat, managed to climb in. The transport was still running.

 

Beside her, she could hear the sound of vampires in feeding frenzy. Maybe the blood of a Slayer was too good to pass up, even cold.

 

So cold --

 

Numbly, Buffy touched the controls that would take her back to the Keep.

 

**

 

At one hour until sunrise, the Keep was silent. Buffy brought the transport into the Keep's bay, saw that the vehicle Angel, Xiaoting and Agatha had been using was already back.

 

She tested her legs and found that she could walk again, albeit shakily. She made her way through the stillness of the Keep to the lift, then punched in Angel's floor.

 

No sooner had she put her palm to his door than it slid open. Angel looked at her, his expression one of both relief and dismay. "Buffy, what happened to you? I went to your rooms when I got in, and when you weren't there -- I thought you might be here, but --"

 

Buffy swayed on her feet, and Angel held her, careful of her wounded arm as he eased her into the apartment and onto the sofa. He knelt by her side; the bloodstains on his tunic were the mirror image of those on her own. "You passed out, didn't you? I knew I should have ridden with you --"

 

"Sky's dead," Buffy said.

 

Angel breathed in -- in surprise, Buffy thought, but then he said, "I should have known -- the blood -- oh, God. You -- you found her?"

 

Buffy couldn't answer for a long minute, and Angel's fear began to settle into determination. "You can tell me later. You need help now. I was just about to call Frances --"

 

"Wait!" Whatever had been damming up the tide of emotion inside her broke, and Buffy began to sob. "You have to tell them the whole thing. You have to tell them why I killed Sky."

 

Angel looked at her in shock, and Buffy began crying even harder. "Angel, she was doing a burnout. Sky was. It was the witches, the ones that were gonna help us. Sky was killing them. Just cutting them down like it was nothing. She killed Tam right in front of me, and she was going to kill me too --"

 

"Shhh," Angel said. He looked at her for a long moment, then got to his feet. He began unbandaging the wound on her arm. "We'll do this up again later."

 

Once he had removed her bandages, Angel gingerly set about taking off her tunic. Buffy didn't help him, didn't resist, just kept sobbing.

 

"She said it was because they needed her, Angel. The Council. Why would the Council do this? Why would they want to hurt people?"

 

"I stopped asking why a long time ago," Angel said. "Can you stand up? Lean on me."

 

He knelt beside her again, and Buffy used his shoulder to brace herself as she got to her feet. While he stripped off her shoes and pants, she choked out, "She was just a kid. She wanted them to need her so bad. Nobody ever told her not to trust them."

 

"I know," Angel said. He stood up again and began guiding Buffy, now naked, into the bathroom. He punched the controls on the shower; water began pouring out, and Angel put his arm beneath it and frowned. "This feels all right to me, but I don't know what humans need. Is this okay, Buffy? Is it going to burn you?" When she didn't move, he held her hand under the water. "Concentrate, Buffy. Is this too hot? Too cold?"

 

"I can't tell," she sobbed. "I'm so cold, Angel."

 

He ran one hand over her smoothed-back hair, then released it from its tight bun in the back. Angel guided Buffy into the shower. She leaned against the wall, let the water flow down her body. Blood mixed with it, swirled beneath her as it went down the drain.

 

Angel went away for a moment, then returned to kneel by the open shower door with a tiny metal pick in his hand. Buffy continued to cry as he lifted her hands, one after the other, and carefully cleaned beneath each fingernail.

 

"I said I wasn't going to lose anybody else," Buffy said through chattering teeth. "I said I wasn't going to make that choice ever again. I had to do that to you. I didn't ever want to do it again. I didn't ever want to have to pick who lives and who dies ever again. I didn't want to kill my little sister -- it was better to kill the whole world, every world, than to kill somebody I cared about even one more time --"

 

"I know," Angel said gently. He finished with her nails, got a washcloth and began roughly scrubbing her body down. Water spattered onto his face, his arms; the bloodstains on his tunic blossomed as they grew damp. "Buffy, were there Watchers there?"

 

"I -- I don't think so -- if they were, I didn't see them --"

 

"If they'd seen you with Sky, they would have done something," he said. "So they didn't see you. Did you leave anything there? Anything at all?"

 

Buffy tried hard to concentrate. "My blaster," she whispered. "I dropped my blaster."

 

Angel's expression grew even more intense. "You said Tam's people were about five blocks from here, right? Is that the location?"

 

"Yeah --"

 

"All right," Angel said. "It's about forty-five minutes to sunrise. I can get there and back in that time." He shut off the water, took a couple of deep breaths as Buffy stood there, wet and trembling. "I can't smell any more blood on you," Angel said. "You're clean."

 

He pulled her out, wrapped her up in a thick towel, used another to dry her hair. Buffy's sobs were beginning to wane from pure exhaustion -- the aftermath of adrenalin overload and injury was dragging her down, lulling her into unnatural calm. "I didn't want to kill her," Buffy said. "We have to tell them that --"

 

"Buffy, NO." Angel grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her intently in the eye. "We're not telling anyone anything about this. A human killed a Slayer once, years ago, and he's still in the Tower. Buffy, you can never tell anyone. Ever. No matter what. You never breathe one word of what happened outside of this room, okay? Promise me. Promise me on -- your mother's memory, or Dawn's. Whatever's sacred to you. Promise."

 

"I promise."

 

"Good," Angel said. He quickly rebandaged her arm, then slipped one of his tunics over her head. "Go back to your room. Try to rest. I'll call you later on."

 

"My stuff --" Buffy gestured weakly toward her bloodied clothing, which lay on the floor.

 

"It's going in the incinerator," Angel said as he knelt down to bundle it up. "Come on."

 

They went out the door together; Angel summoned lifts that would take her up to her rooms and him back down to the transport bay. He clutched the bundle of clothing tightly, and Buffy swayed on her feet. "I can't ever do it again," she whispered.

 

Angel looked over at her, his eyes gentle, and she desperately wanted him to say, You won't have to. Nothing like this will ever happen again. Because he was standing there, so strong and sure about what to do, if Angel said it, she could believe it.

 

Instead he said, "I wish it were different."

 

"Me too," Buffy said. "I wish too."

 

**

 

When Buffy awoke, the first thing she was aware of was pain -- her arm still ached terribly, and her head was sore --

 

Memory flowed in next, and Buffy took in a deep breath as she lay there in her bed. She pulled the covers close around her as the events of the night before flickered through her mind. Uncertain, grainy images like the late night horror show --

 

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut.

 

Don't think about it.

 

After a few minutes, she could damp the memories down enough to control herself. She sat up and pulled off Angel's tunic -- a reminder that was easily stuffed into a drawer. Then she took the bandages off her arm; though a nasty, livid welt still throbbed from elbow to shoulder, the wound would stay closed from now on. She threw the bandage away, stared at in the basket for a moment, then got some sheets of paper from her reserves, crumpled them up and threw them in on top so she couldn't see the blood anymore.

 

The morning sunshine was streaming into her clean, white apartment. Her home looked pure, like something made out of light. She slipped into a tunic and pants that were just as white, so that she could disappear into it.

 

A faint wave of dizziness reminded Buffy that she was still weak -- which in turn reminded her why she was weak. She went into the kitchen to eat; unfortunately, with the busy day she'd had yesterday, she'd forgotten to go pick up her ration of food. Nothing was there except a few cups of muesli. Buffy disliked the stuff at the best of times; right now, she didn't think she could even stomach a mouthful.

 

The only alternative was to go out and get something.

 

Buffy considered her options. The ration area would be crowded, and the last thing she wanted to do right now was look anyone in the eye.

 

But the common room would still be fairly quiet at this hour, she thought. Even if others were there, they probably wouldn't attempt to socialize. And she could get some food that would tide her over -- maybe Angel could get more for her later --

 

Decision made, Buffy hurried on her way. She passed no one in the hallway. As she stepped into the common room, she was breathing a sigh of relief --

 

"Buffy!" Agatha came hurrying toward her, and Buffy's heart dropped. Against her will, against every self-protective instinct she had, Buffy began to cry.

 

Agatha looked at her tenderly, and Buffy realized that she was crying too. "You've heard, then," Agatha whispered. "You heard about Sky."

 

Buffy didn't answer. Agatha apparently took her silence as misery, and gently embraced Buffy. "So very young," she said. "Do you know she hadn't been a Slayer for four months? So unfair --"

 

"Unfair," Buffy repeated quietly.

 

Xiaoting walked up. Her eyes were dry, but she was biting her lip so hard blood was welling up. "Where the hell was her Watcher? That's what I want to know. I thought she was supposed to patrol with Sumiko last night, but I must have been wrong. No way in hell Sumiko would've let vamps get her. Just Sky's stupid idiot Watcher."

 

"And to think we nearly lost you too!" Agatha looked at Buffy, apparently remembering the incident at the Museum. "Dearest, are you all right?"

 

"I'll heal," Buffy said shortly. She wiped her tears away with the back of her good hand. If she let herself break down in front of Agatha and Xiaoting, she wouldn't ever be able to put herself together again.

 

And, worse yet, she wanted to tell them. Wanted to confess everything, ask them what Sky could have been up to, hear their shock and rage. Something terrible was behind all this, and they deserved to know.

 

But if I tell them, I put them in danger, Buffy realized. If they're willing to kill one Slayer, they'll kill others.

 

Markwith stepped into the room, Sumiko at his side, her expression so grave that Buffy knew they'd somehow made her understand. "Buffy," he said, his voice even. "How are you?"

 

"Been better."

 

"I'm afraid I have bad news."

 

"We already know," Xiaoting said. "Frances told us. Vampires murdered Sky." Agatha closed her eyes, perhaps praying as she heard the words spoken aloud again.

 

"There's more," Markwith said. "We have since discovered which vampire it was."

 

It took a minute to hit Buffy. The floor lurched beneath her, and her eyes went wide. "No --"

 

"Angel was caught as he returned to the transport bay," Markwith said. Buffy couldn't look away, couldn't stop listening, couldn't even pay attention to Agatha and Xiaoting's shocked cries of dismay. "He had Sky's blood all over his clothing. Little enough wonder, given the condition in which we found her body --"

 

"That's not right," Buffy said. She remembered the promise she'd made Angel, cast it off, let it go. "That's not what happened."

 

"I understand your reluctance to believe it," Markwith said. "Angel hasn't confessed. But he will not deny it, either. The evidence is rather clear."

 

"It's not clear at all," Buffy said desperately. "Angel didn't do it. I -- I can explain --"

 

"I trusted him," Xiaoting said, livid. "I thought he was some pretty storybook character, but he was just a vampire after all --"

 

"Xiaoting, no," Agatha pleaded. "Buffy is as shocked as we are --"

 

"No, God, please, listen to me --" Buffy put her hands out. Markwith took one of her hands in one of his -- then, with his free hand, jabbed something in her arm. "What the --"

 

"Better this than hysterics," Markwith said. Buffy knew he wasn't talking to her, because he wasn't looking at her --

 

His face went black-and-white, then black, as the world faded away.

 

*******************

 

Chapter Twenty-Two

 

"Perchance to Dream"

 

 

Buffy awoke, her head no longer hurting, but thick and fuzzy, as though she'd been --

 

Drugged. She had been drugged.

 

She forced herself to sit up; she was on her bed, albeit dumped unceremoniously atop the covers. Pain snaked its way up her arm again, but Buffy ignored it. It was already dark outside -- Angel would already be in the Tower --

 

Buffy went to the phone, then hesitated before picking it up. Whom could she call? Whom did she trust?

 

Hell, she thought, I don't need someone I trust. I need someone who'll want to get Sky's real killer. That's just about anybody.

 

Settling on Frances, Buffy picked up the receiver. "Hello? Hello, um, operator?

 

No answer, and the dull hiss on the other end told her the line was inactive. She hung up and went to the door, but when it slid open, two burly Watchers stood guard. They glared at her, and Buffy put her hands on her hips. "Oh, yeah, like you can stop me --"

 

She went to shove her way through, but one of the Watchers pushed her back into her room -- easily. Buffy hardly had time to react before the door slid shut again. "What the --"

 

Memories of her 18th birthday surfaced, and Buffy groaned. Damn Council, she thought. Okay. No phone. No powers. But sooner or later, someone's got to talk to me. I only need a minute --

 

Buffy cursed her stupid hesitation before. It had just been so hard to get out the words, to confront the wave of guilt and grief and betrayal that welled up inside her every time she so much as pictured Sky's young face. When she got another chance, she wouldn't hesitate again --

 

The door slid open once more, and Markwith stepped inside -- shadowed by Sumiko, who was wearing her sword at her waist. "They told me you were up," he said congenially, as though they'd run into each other at the continental breakfast.

 

"I killed Sky," Buffy said. "Angel didn't do it. I did."

 

"I thought you'd say that," Markwith said without missing a beat. "Mind if I sit down?"

 

Buffy stared at him, then gestured toward the couch. "Have at it. I guess that's why you drugged me? Thought I'd haul off and kill you?"

 

"It seemed a distinct possibility, given the day you've been having," Markwith replied. Sumiko trailed after him, not sitting down, but remaining tightly by his side. "Though my vigilant bodyguard here is probably the best assurance of safety I could have."

 

Sumiko's eyes never left Buffy.

 

"So, fine, take me to the Tower. Or get me in front of Ishak. Just set Angel free."

 

"No," Markwith said. "I don't think I will."

 

She couldn't speak for a long minute. Finally, she choked out, "You -- you're the one behind all this -- "

 

"Buffy, you're behaving in a very paranoid fashion," Markwith said. "And I can understand why, considering the shocking behavior of your erstwhile lover."

 

"He hasn't done anything shocking," Buffy repeated. "I'm not trying to cover for him. I'm telling you the truth. My -- my fingerprints would be on the stake --"

 

"Stake?" Markwith raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember our team finding a stake. Poor Sky's body was in a condition no stake could ever have created."

 

Buffy shook her head. "That -- that was after --"

 

"Oh, that's right. You just happened to kill Sky, your friend, for no good reason --"

 

"I had good reason! She was killing people! Like you don't know that --"

 

"-- and, as fate would have it, vampires came along the body immediately afterward and destroyed the evidence of what you'd done. And Angel, a vampire whose murderous tendencies are written throughout our histories, just happened to go out at a few minutes to sunrise to stumble upon the body."

 

"He didn't just happen to go out," Buffy said. "He was trying to cover up what I'd done."

 

"Well, if that were true, Buffy, I'd say he'd made rather a good job of it."

 

Buffy ran her good hand through her hair. "This is unbelievable. You have to at least find out if what I'm saying is true -- but -- but you don't want to know, do you?"

 

Markwith shrugged. "Think about what the Council will think. What all those people out there will think. Your friends, Xiaoting and Agatha. Do they really want to hear that one Slayer murdered another? That doesn't make any sense. But a vampire, long-suspected by virtually all, finally breaking down and killing a Slayer? That makes more sense to me, certainly."

 

"You know the truth," Buffy said. "You know I'm telling you the truth. You just don't care."

 

"I know what I believe. Angel's a danger to this Council, to the work that we do here. That danger is finally believed by all."

 

"The work that we do here?" Buffy snapped. "Are you the one who sent Sky out after the witches? Did you fuck up the Museum raid?" She stepped forward, getting in his face; Sumiko responded by moving closer to Markwith.

 

"Watch the language, please. Sumiko's bound to start picking up words sooner or later." Markwith looked at her carefully, dropped a bit of his facade. "Yes, I sent Sky out that night. She was a good solider, the executor of the Council's most secret purposes. And she did her job well. I wonder if she knew how much we appreciated her --"

 

"Why?" Buffy cried. "Will you tell me that much? Why would you want the Museum raid to fail? Why would you want the witches dead? Why? Did -- did you just hate Angel so much that you wanted to screw him over --"

 

"You've caught this disease from Angel of taking everything so personally."

 

"Oh, yeah. No idea where he came up with that."

 

"I was very happy when you began, shall we say, revamping Angel's image," Markwith continued. "Honestly. At first I thought to leave it at that. People's attitude toward the entire Council changed, once the vampire among us started proving himself again. And the Underground burnouts -- those were pushing the limits. But they encouraged the populace so much. It seemed little harm to let you continue. But the Museum raid -- that I could not have allowed."

 

"You still haven't told me why," Buffy said.

 

Markwith shook his head. "That was the best thing about Sky," he said. "She didn't ask such questions. Neither does our Sumiko here, who will soon take up the duties Sky has abandoned. Without language, she may take some persuading. The actions required are often not the traditional work of a Slayer. But she is -- so -- perfect." His voice was getting dreamy. "The perfect warrior, uncomplicated, unquestioning. Efficient and deadly. Ours to command."

 

"Yours, you mean," Buffy said. "And that's about the only person you could get to love you. Somebody who couldn't understand one word that comes out of your mouth."

 

His eyes flashed at that. "I'll put my taste in companions up against yours at any time."

 

"You thought you'd make Angel break, when you brought me back," Buffy said. "But he was stronger than you thought he was --"

 

"I never for a moment meant to break Angel," Markwith said. "Other, better men than I have tried that, to no avail. He's a cautious, secretive creature, and he hadn't put a foot wrong in a century. But you -- reading your history, your many mishaps, your endless rebellions -- you were bound to revert to your old patterns eventually."

 

Buffy sat down in a chair, her knees weak. "You knew I'd screw up," she said in a tiny voice. "And you knew Angel wouldn't let me go down alone."

 

"It seemed likely," Markwith said. "Of course, from all appearances, things have turned out quite differently. His demonic instincts got the better of him after all."

 

"Appearances don't have anything to do with this," Buffy said. Tears were welling in her eyes now. Markwith shimmered and blurred. "People are going to learn the truth. People are going to learn that you sent Sky out to kill innocent --"

 

"Witches? The people who matter already know. The people who don't -- they'll believe the worst of witches easily enough. And they'll believe what they want to believe about Angel. They already do. And no protestations from a tearful, lovestruck girl are going to make any difference."

 

"Ishak," Buffy said, grasping at any hope now. "He may have lied to Angel, but I know he does care -- at least some --"

 

"A sentimental old man," he said. "He did like to hear Angel's song about the Council's true duties -- as Angel saw them. He always made Ishak feel very noble and good. But Angel's ideas were those of another age. I always thought it very appropriate that those ideas existed only in the heart of a dead man." Markwith put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. "Angel's a lost cause, Buffy. His trial is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon --"

 

Trial. The word made Buffy's stomach spin and her head reel; if she'd eaten in the past day, she knew she would have thrown up. Instead she clutched her gut, doubling over as if struck.

 

Markwith was watching her, a flinty spark in his eyes, but he continued on. "Rather a long list of crimes, I'm afraid. Promises to be a messy business. We'll get half the city crowding in here to see that."

 

"Oh, God --"

 

"Buffy, listen to me. Angel is beyond your help now. Even if we did accept your version of events, he'd still be an accomplice -- which would condemn him just the same. You can only save yourself. You can continue making accusations nobody will believe and marginalize yourself. A dangerous move," Markwith said smoothly. "Or you can get back to work. Go back to slaying by the Council's rules. Frances will patrol with you. You'd never be asked to perform, shall we say, special duties. You could continue to do a great deal of good, enjoy your years here in the safety and comfort of the Keep. After all -- isn't that what Angel would want you to do?"

 

Buffy slapped him as hard as she could. Her Slayer strength may have been damped down, but she knew she hit Markwith hard enough to hurt. He pulled back and glared at her, and for one moment Buffy thought he would hit back. Sumiko put her hand to her sword.

 

Markwith held up a hand toward Sumiko. "We're all right here," he said distantly. He got to his feet. "The people adore you, Buffy," he said. "They'll adore you even after this, maybe more. A young girl betrayed by love -- very sympathetic. So you're still of value to this Council. So far."

 

He turned to go, Sumiko trailing behind. Just as the doors swished open, Buffy said desperately, "Can I visit him? Talk to him?"

 

"I don't see what purpose that would serve," Markwith said. "If you want to see Angel, come to his trial."

 

The door slid shut, sealing Buffy alone in her room.

 

She got slowly to her feet and shuffled to her bedroom. Buffy opened one of her drawers and pulled out Angel's tunic, held it close to her face. No good -- it was fresh and clean, and nothing of his scent lingered there. Only her own.

 

Buffy let herself fall onto the bed.

 

Don't think -- don't think about it --

 

But that wouldn't work this time. There was no running from the fact that Angel going to die, and she had gotten him killed, and it was all useless. Worse than useless.

 

Why? Why would the Council want to stop the Museum raid? Wasn't there anything she could do? She looked at her window, wondered about the drop to the ground. Thought about the stakes and arrows in her supplies. Wondered about knotting Angel's tunic up into a rope that could go around her neck.

 

If she left a note, maybe --

 

Who was to say anybody beyond Markwith would get the note? Or believe it if they did?

 

She began to cry in earnest. Oh, God, she thought, I wish I just understood why.

 

Buffy sobbed until all the strength was gone from her body, until her mind was blank with misery, and finally she fell asleep.

 

**

 

"I do not care for nightclubs."

 

Buffy lifted her head from the pillow, looked around. Her bed was in the middle of the Bronze dance floor, which seemed an odd place to put it, but, whatever. The Propellerheads, with Shirley Bassey's voice as lead, were booming from the speakers. Watchers were milling about, mingled with the dancing teenagers and the panda bears. Noor was at the foot of the bed, complaining as usual. "They are noisy, and the food is expensive and tasteless, and these displays of dancing are very vulgar."

 

"If you want to leave, why don't you go?" Buffy said.

 

"I tried to go," Noor said. "They would not let me leave. But you, you could leave."

 

"You should leave, Buffy." Buffy turned around; Angel was at the head of the bed. "You should get out while you can."

 

"I'm not leaving without you," Buffy said. "You're in danger, Angel."

 

"It's sunny outside," Angel said.

 

"The -- the shroud. Don't you have the shroud?"

 

Angel thought about that for a moment. "I left it in the Council Chamber."

 

"I'll go get it," Buffy promised. "Just hang on, okay?" She climbed out of her bed to go, then turned back and touched his face. "Okay?"

 

"I told you," Angel said. "You might have to go without me."

 

"I'll be back." Buffy ran up the steps to the stage, went to the exit sign. The door was there, finally. She tugged and tugged, but it was locked. "Frances gave me the key. Oh, God, where did I put that key?"

 

Noor was suddenly beside her again, the ornate key in her hands. "I gave you this long ago," Noor said. "I thought you would remember."

 

Buffy shook her head. "Frances gave the key to me."

 

"We both did." Noor motioned toward the door. "Go to the Chamber. You will find what you are seeking in the Chamber. But you must watch carefully. And you must listen."

 

Buffy slid the key into the lock; as she turned it, the door simply vanished. The Bronze's back alley was brightly sunlit, and Buffy took a moment to realize she'd never seen it like that before. But at the end of it, right where the Dumpster was supposed to be, were the doors to the Chamber.

 

"Hurry," Noor said. "Find what you seek. And tell Xiaoting she is still a frivolous cow."

 

"Gotcha," Buffy said. She took off running, moving as fast as her feet would carry her. The alleyway seemed to stretch out, getting longer and longer as the sun got hotter and brighter, almost blinding. Eventually she could see nothing but light, but she kept on -

 

Her hands slammed into the doors, pushing them open, and she stumbled into what seemed to be total darkness. Buffy took a deep breath, grateful for the cool air, and blinked as she tried to adjust to the dimmer light. She was in the Council Chamber, all right -- and she wasn't alone. A dark form came up to her, and she strained to make out the features.

 

"Buffy? Good heavens, what's been keeping you?"

 

Buffy gasped, recognizing the voice even as the features became clear. "Giles?"

 

"We've been waiting," Giles said. He quirked his mouth at her. "You weren't off shopping again, were you?"

 

"Oh, God, Giles!" She flung her arms around his neck; he smelled like aftershave and the incense at the Magic Box, and his old tweed coat was rough against her hands. He hugged her in return, patting her on the shoulder.

 

"I'm glad to see you too," he said. "But we have business to discuss."

 

"Yeah, Buf, get with the program," Xander said. He was sitting at the Sunnydale High library table, now in the middle of the Chamber. His hair was mussed, and he had spackle all over his work jeans and Minnie Mouse t-shirt. "If you run late for meetings, you miss out on the good stuff. For instance, we are already out of jelly doughnuts."

 

"My fault," Willow said, raising her hand sheepishly. "They were just, you know, more yummy than usual."

 

"Guys --" Buffy reluctantly let go of Giles and ran over to her friends. "I missed you --"

 

"We missed you too," Xander said, giving her a quick hug around the shoulders. "We didn't want you to go."

 

"I mean, we know you had to leave Dawnie with us," Willow said, embracing Buffy in turn. Her oversized black sweater was fuzzy against Buffy's hands. "But it felt like -- like you wanted to go."

 

"I did," Buffy confessed. "It wasn't because I didn't love you. You know that, right?"

 

"Yeah," Xander said. "We know. We always knew. So stop worrying about that, 'cause you have got way bigger stuff on your plate."

 

"And stop imagining me disappearing in the fog," Willow said. "Because, you know, morbid."

 

"Excuse me!" Anya folded her arms and looked stern. "It's meeting time. All the successful-business books say that meetings should be short and productive."

 

"Yes, yes, Anya," Giles said. "Do get on with it."

 

Anya motioned at a large pile of cash that was in the center of the table. "This," she said, doing her best Vanna-White hands for display, "is our money. We want to keep this money. We don't give money to other people. Why? Because it's ours."

 

"You might consider moving the money elsewhere," a voice called from the higher levels. Buffy craned her head up to see Wesley standing there in a suit, shovel in hand. Next to him was Cordelia, in Sunnydale High cheerleading wear, rolling her eyes as she balanced an unpotted fern in her hands. "It's going to get in the way of the landscaping."

 

"Landscaping. Very important aspect of home building and remodeling," Xander said sagely.

 

"I just had this place looking the way I wanted it," Wesley said, sounding very put out. "Then they went and ripped up all the foliage. Of all the cheek."

 

"Excuse me, Shovel Man, but do you mind getting back to the digging?" Cordelia said. "I'm stuck here holding a fern."

 

"Oooh, check it out!" Buffy turned again to see Dawn playing with Ishak's chair. She was in her pyjamas, her hair in two braids on either side of her head, and she looked like the little kid she'd never been. "It goes up and down, see? Like the dentist, only without that creepy fluoride smell."

 

Buffy went to hug her sister, who tugged her into the chair with her. "Look, see -- going up!"

 

As Ishak's chair rose, Buffy got a better look at the room. Giles, Willow, Anya and Xander were all standing around the money, debating over where to move it. Cordelia put her fern down, and Wesley tapped the ground with his shovel. Tara was there, too, she realized, napping in a chair; she briefly opened her eyes, waved lazily, then drifted off again. And there, in the outskirts -- "Spike?"

 

He finished lighting his cigarette, stepped out of the shadows. "Been trying to think of what to say," he said. "Turns out I'm not much for this fruity dream-metaphor crap."

 

"Here, Spike," Dawn called, tossing him a gray mass of fabric that Buffy recognized as Kean's shroud. "Take that to Angel."

 

"Why would I do a thing like that?" Spike held the shroud up appraisingly. "Could come in handy, this."

 

"He's in the Bronze," Buffy said. "Along with the guys who killed you. Take it there, and you get your chance to kick their butts."

 

"Now you're talking," Spike said with a feral grin. "Angel will get his rag in a jif." He slipped it on, ran out the doors into the light.

 

"Going down," Dawn said, lowering the chair. She scooted against her sister, pushing for more sitting room; Buffy pushed back playfully and heard Dawn's giggle.

 

"Now, you may be thinking, why not give away some of the money?" Anya said as Buffy got back on her feet. "We could still keep some for ourselves, right? To that I can only say, what kind of lousy capitalists are you?"

 

"I could've gotten you in that Museum, Buffy," Willow said. "Easy as pie. Well, okay, the last time I tried to make a pie, the crust did this Playdoh thing, and there was a lack-of-sugar factor. So the Museum would actually have been easier than pie."

 

"Oh, no," Giles said, holding up his hand. "The Council doesn't like pie."

 

"In my day, the Council loved pie," Wesley called as he carefully planted a philodendron. "We couldn't get enough."

 

"I believe it's gone out of favor," Giles said. "Too common."

 

The doors swung open again, and a shrouded figure came through. Angel pulled back his hood and smiled at Buffy. "Made it," he said. "I shouldn't have doubted you."

 

"Duh," Buffy said with a grin. "C'mon. We're talking about --" she frowned. "We're talking about pie."

 

"The Council doesn't like pie," Angel said.

 

"We covered that," Xander said, crossing his arms.

 

"Where's Spike?" Dawn asked.

 

Angel smiled grimly. "Let's just say the Bronze is going to be shut down for repairs for a while."

 

"Last one!" Cordelia cried happily as Wesley finished patting down the earth near the philodendrom. Suddenly, the Chamber seemed to come alive with plants -- vines curled their way up the walls. Trees sprouted from the seats, grew leaves and bore fruit in moments. The floor went soft with grass.

 

"Good show, Wesley," Giles said with a smile. The others were beaming too -- including Tara, who was suddenly wide awake and bounding down the steps to join them.

 

"It's just like the gardens," Buffy said.

 

"Not just like," Wesley warned. "We have to let the sun in."

 

Dawn punched a knob on Ishak's chair. The ceiling split in two -- but instead of revealing the rest of the amphitheater, it was parting to reveal a sunny sky. "Angel, quick!" Buffy cried. "Your shroud!"

 

A band of sunlight cut the Chamber in half. Angel shook his head. "No more shrouds, Buffy. You have to let the light come in."

 

"Angel, please!" she pleaded, pulling at his tunic and looking around desperately for the shroud, which seemed to have disappeared.

 

She heard a small crash behind her, like something breaking. Buffy spun around, then put her hand to her mouth. Tremulously, she said, "Mom?"

 

Joyce knelt on the ground, picking up a cup. "Well, would you look at that," Joyce said. "I thought this was broken, but turns out it's good as new."

 

The light was streaming in now, filling the room, coming closer and closer to Angel. Buffy tried to push him back without stepping away from her mother. "Mommy, I love you."

 

"I love you too, dear," she said, smiling. She stood up and held out her hand to touch her daughter's face. Just as the blinding sunlight overtook them, Joyce said, "You have to know what to see --"

 

Buffy woke up. She opened her eyes slowly. Her bedroom was pale with dawn light.

 

Good, she thought, I have time.

 

She knew once again that she was just where she needed to be. And doing exactly what she needed to do.

 

**********************

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Three

 

 

 

"The Conscience of the King"

 

 

 

Buffy held the old pocketwatch Frances had given her in front of her face and let it swing back and forth, like a hypnotist in an old movie. The hands slowly spun; the seconds ticked away in a rhythm like a faint heartbeat. She could see the light through her window becoming more golden as the sun began slipping lower in the sky. People began to gather around the Keep, began clamoring to come inside.

 

Her arm still ached. Her stomach was empty and her head was light.

 

But she was ready.

 

Buffy spun the gold chain so that the pocketwatch was snapped back into her hand. She lay it carefully on the bed beside Angel's tunic. She took what she needed and went to the door. When it swished open, the two guards tensed. Fortunately, they were the same two as the evening before. Each man tensed, but Buffy made no move to fight them.

 

"I'm ready to go," she said. They stared at her blankly. She said, "I'm ready for the trial."

 

One of the guards looked over at the other, questioning. Buffy continued, "Markwith said that I could attend. You heard him. I don't have my strength, and I can't overpower you. Just take me there."

 

"If Markwith says you're to come back, you will," one guard said as he took her injured arm in a painfully tight grip.

 

Buffy didn't wince. "He won't," she said.

 

**

 

They took her to Ishak's Hall. When Buffy came through the doors, everyone in the room reacted -- some gasped, some stared, and a few looked angry enough to kill. Xiaoting was in this last number, but Agatha unobtrusively moved between them. Sumiko quickly walked to within arm's reach of Buffy, but took no further action.

 

Markwith raised an eyebrow. "Well, this should be good."

 

"I need to be here," Buffy said. "You have my absolute word that I won't try and break Angel out. I'm going to follow the rules. I just -- need to be here."

 

Ishak looked guilty -- as well he might -- but genuinely upset and fretful. "Buffy, you have witnessed one of these trials, have you not? Then you know what this will be."

 

"I know," Buffy said evenly. "That's why I have to be here."

 

Ishak shook his head, "I don't think that --"

 

"No," Markwith said. "Reconsider, Ishak. The people will no doubt have questions about Buffy's loyalty, given her association with Angel. What better way to demonstrate that she truly does stand with us? Could save us months of repairing the people's trust in her."

 

"If the people see her weeping or fainting, they won't be much convinced," Ishak said.

 

"I'm not gonna break down," Buffy promised. "I'm ready. I can get through this. I have to."

 

Markwith stepped up to her. "This show of discipline is very welcome, Buffy, if somewhat belated. But you don't mind if I just -- check --"

 

He quickly patted her down to see if she were carrying anything concealed. She wasn't. But when he came to her arms, she held out her hands so that he could see the stake she held.

 

Markwith looked at her in surprise. Buffy said, "Nobody does it but me. That's all I ask."

 

"Out of the question!" Frances came hurrying up, actually tearful. "Buffy, the strain's too much for you. You can't want to do this --"

 

"I did it before, Frances. You read that in Giles' diaries, didn't you?" When Frances nodded, confirming it for everyone in the room, Buffy continued, "It had to be done. And now it has to be done again."

 

"Of course she wants to do it," Markwith said. "She'd give him a quick death at the first stroke."

 

"I won't do that," Buffy said. "I'll hit for every crime you call out. Every one. I swear it."

 

"And I think I actually believe you," Markwith said.

 

"You guys are still going to want me to patrol after all this is over," Buffy said. "I'm telling you right now, I'll never do anything you ask, ever again, unless you let me do this. I know the consequences. I'm gonna follow the rules."

 

"Ishak?" Frances said.

 

Ishak looked at her for a long time. Finally, he said, "If you deviate for any reason, you'll be replaced."

 

"And I'll replace you," Xiaoting said in a low voice.

 

"If you finish Angel before we call the final stroke, you'll lose your liberty," Ishak said.

 

"Didn't much care for the Tower the last time I was there," Buffy said. "No big hurry to go back."

 

"Very well," Ishak said with a shake of his head. "The people have gathered. We will enter the Hall."

 

Ishak went to the door. Markwith hesitated by Buffy for a moment, then leaned forward and whispered, "Watch your step, Buffy. Remember -- we do have the blaster."

 

Buffy forced herself not to flinch. Markwith moved on to stand by Ishak's side. Xiaoting and Agatha got behind them, and Sumiko and Buffy took their places next. The Watchers began lining up in back. Frances, standing directly behind Buffy, whispered, "Are you quite all right? They wouldn't let me in to see you last night."

 

"I'm okay," Buffy said. "But thanks for trying. I mean it." When she half-turned her head, she could see that Frances was trying to smile at her.

 

Buffy smiled back as best she could, then faced forward once more. As they began walking toward the Chamber doors, she thought, well, the easy part's done. But if the hard part doesn't work --

 

She blinked her eyes hard. Today she'd spent more than enough time envisioning Plan B, which ended with Angel turning into dust even as she pulled the stake out of him and plunged it into her own heart.

 

Instead, she took a deep breath and cleared her mind as they walked into the Chamber.

 

The roof was already open, and the crowds were loud -- not cheering, not exactly, but shouting. Throughout the amphitheater roiled the same angry, demanding sound Buffy had heard at the last trial, amplified a thousandfold. Buffy stumbled a bit as she took it in -- it felt as though the people's fury and bloodlust had been made physical, could actually strike her in her gut. But she kept walking.

 

As the Watchers began moving up into their seats near the center, Ishak headed for his chair. Desperately, Buffy whispered, "What do I do?"

 

"Stand near Ishak's chair," Markwith said without turning around. "And move forward when it is time."

 

Buffy tried to follow Markwith's orders, but Sumiko grabbed her arm. Buffy pulled free, but Sumiko tried to push past her. "No, dammit," Buffy said. "I'm doing this. I am," she repeated, patting her chest. Sumiko stared at her, then tried to push her toward the stands. "No!" Buffy repeated, her voice trembling. "I don't care how much you hate him. I don't care if you want to do it. I have to do this! I have to! Don't make me fight you --"

 

She shoved Sumiko away again. Sumiko stood still for a moment, then tentatively raised a hand to Buffy's cheek and held her face. When Buffy met her eyes, she could see that Sumiko was crying. Buffy took a sobbing breath and covered Sumiko's hand with her own. "It's okay," Buffy whispered. "It really is. Just let me do this."

 

Sumiko either understood her or gave up, and turned away to go into the stands beside Xiaoting and Agatha.

 

Ishak could not quite look into her eyes as he seated himself. "Buffy, I truly did not want matters to come to such a pass," he said.

 

"I believe you," Buffy said. "And that's the worst thing I could say about you. You don't want any of this, but you'll let it happen anyway."

 

Ishak flinched from her words, but he moved his chair into position and held up his hands. The amphitheater fell silent instantly; the quiet was more ominous than the shouting had been. Buffy shivered.

 

"People of London!" Ishak called. "We have lost one of our beloved Slayers. And though that tragedy alone would be great enough to break our hearts, we have another to bear. Sky Kahurangi died at the hands of one of our own. At the hands of the vampire Angel, long trusted by this Council. His betrayal has cost us one of the city's protectors, and has made clear to us all that his past crimes were unwisely ignored. And for these crimes, we bring Angel to trial."

 

On Ishak's motion, one of the side doors opened. Two heavyset Watchers pushed their way through, Angel between them.

 

The crowd began screaming -- truly screaming, shrieks of rage unlike anything Buffy had ever heard before. All her self-control nearly broke at the sight of Angel; he was dirty and his wrists were manacled together. They'd taken the bloodstained tunic, and on his face and body she could see cuts and bruises that hadn't been there when she'd seen him last.

 

His head was bowed, but as they pulled him to the center of the circle, he lifted it slowly, looking directly at her. Angel's expression betrayed surprise at first, and then a kind of sad gratitude that made tears spring to Buffy's eyes.

 

She blinked them back again and tried to smile for him. "I love you," he mouthed.

 

"I love you too," she whispered.

 

The crowd continued to jeer. Ishak let them go on for a very long time.

 

Finally, Ishak held up his hand again. As the crowd settled down -- it took them a few seconds, this time -- he said in a low voice, "Go forward now. Obey your promise."

 

The guards pulled away from Angel as Buffy walked up to him, stake in hand. Angel wavered slightly on his feet, but his eyes were clear.

 

"The vampire Angel, for one hundred and fifty years, savaged the people of Europe, Asia and the Americas," Markwith began. "What he has done in the three and one-half centuries since feigning his virtue is largely unknown. His murders have included the young, the innocent, the elderly. Angel is guilty of crimes beyond number --"

 

"Hold," Buffy said loudly. The crowd buzzed. Angel stared.

 

Markwith cut in, "Remember your word!"

 

"I said I would follow the rules!" Buffy said, letting her voice carry. "And the rules say that the Slayer's right to speak in the Chamber is sacrosanct. That means it can't be taken away, no matter what." Then she paused, doubting, and glanced quickly over at Frances. "That is what sacrosanct means, right?" Frances nodded quickly, her eyes wide with disbelief.

 

Ishak looked at her, his face grim. Behind him, Markwith was glowering. Ishak said, "Speak, then."

 

"I'll carry out the Council's sentence," Buffy said. "I'll do what they ask me to do. But after today, I'm not going to follow their orders anymore. They -- they'll try to tell you," she motioned up at the crowds above the Watchers, "that it's because they did this to Angel. Because I believe he's innocent -- and I do. But the real reason I'm quitting is that I refuse to keep fighting a war they won't let me win."

 

The crowd rumbled slightly at this -- this wasn't what they were expecting. But they were listening, which was almost more than she had dared hope.

 

Markwith was staring at her now. His old veneer of superiority was gone; his gaze was intense, even fearful. Buffy took courage from that and continued. "Ask yourselves why the Council forbids magic as evil when the Council uses magic themselves. Ask yourselves why the Council won't let anyone else learn or practice the spells they have for protection."

 

Ishak said, "This is enough --"

 

The heavyset Watchers moved forward to get her, and Buffy tensed, but the people began to yell. Buffy could only make out a few words here and there, but over and over again, she heard, "Let her speak!" A few people got to their feet as the Watchers headed toward Buffy -- they looked as though they might begin to climb down into the center. Ishak quickly motioned the Watchers back, looking daggers at Buffy.

 

She held up her hand for silence, and the people were quiet immediately. Buffy looked back up into the crowd. "Human beings can kill demons and vampires too. It doesn't take a Slayer. And the Council has about a zillion weapons. Ask yourselves why they don't arm you and teach you. Ask yourselves why the Watchers don't pick up some crossbows themselves and help patrol this city to keep it safe."

 

Buffy gulped in a quick breath and kept on. "Ask yourselves why some of you -- some of you right here, today -- have seen the Council or a Slayer participating in burnouts. You have to have known. Word gets around this city overnight; I bet you all know. But you're too scared to ask why."

 

She motioned wide with her arms, taking in the whole room. "Look around you. You live in crowded rooms in buildings that aren't safe. You don't have enough to eat. And the Watchers live in a palace. They have everything they could ever want -- everything you could ever want -- and they keep it for themselves. And why do you let them?" Buffy laughed. "Because the Council keeps telling you we're fighting the war. And they're gonna keep fighting it. But they're never gonna win, because the day they win is the day you don't need them anymore. And the power and the wealth go away. The day they win the war for you is the day they lose."

 

Frances was staring at her in pure horror; Buffy realized that Frances truly hadn't realized this. About half of the Watchers wore the same expression of stunned realization. The other half -- Ishak and Markwith among them -- were looking at her with cold fury.

 

Above them, the people were murmuring louder and louder. Ishak held up his hand. It took the crowd a very long time to be quiet this time. "We have heard enough of a young girl's fantasies. Perhaps someone else should take this role --"

 

"No," Buffy said. "I've said what I wanted to say. And I'll do what you command. Call out the crimes."

 

Angel had been watching her with a mixture of amazement and pride. He managed a smile for Buffy as she turned back to him. "You got them," he said. "I can go, knowing you've won."

 

Buffy dropped her gaze from his eyes. "Don't look at me," she whispered desperately. "If you do, I can't get through it."

 

After a moment, Angel said, "I -- I'll need to look at you at the end --"

 

Buffy did not trust herself to answer out loud. She just nodded and tightened her fist around her stake.

 

The crowd was restless now, visibly and audibly unhappy, and those Watchers who hadn't been in the know were openly whispering among themselves, moving around. Ishak turned quickly and said, "This court has historical documents and proof of the following twenty-three crimes: the murder of Gregory Abbott --"

 

Buffy forced herself to plunge the stake into Angel's shoulder. He stifled his cry of pain, and she choked back her own sob. The crowd roared, but they were not cheering.

 

"The torture and murder of eighteen nuns of the Lady of Perpetual Sorrow convent --"

 

Buffy struck Angel's arm this time, and he couldn't stop himself from a quick shout of pain.

 

Oh, God, she thought, oh, God, please get me through this, please get us through this --

 

"The murder of Corinne Debevais --"

 

In his thigh this time. Blood on her hand. Blood on the floor now.

 

"The murder of Anthony Crenshaw --"

 

In the side. Angel staggered back. Buffy forced herself to step forward, to stay close.

 

The crowd was louder now. She could hear them calling for the Council to stop.

 

But Buffy now knew the Council would not stop. Ishak's voice was only growing more assured. Name after name, he called out. Time after time, Buffy struck. Her heart was pounding, and the combination of horror and physical weakness were catching up with her. She had to go on. Angel fell to his knees and she had to go on, she had to do it, she couldn't run away from it this time --

 

It didn't work, she thought despairingly. It didn't work.

 

"The murder of Jennifer Calendar."

 

Buffy's eyes widened. She'd lost count during all the horror, but she knew Jenny's death would be one of the last crimes they called out. This is the end, Buffy thought. This is the end.

 

She struck again in the shoulder, near the first wound, and Angel cried out. She was sobbing now. He managed to whisper, "Almost over -- just two more --" He finally lifted his head to look at her face, so she would be the last thing he saw. Blood had spattered on his cheeks and forehead. Buffy wondered how much blood was on her now.

 

"The torture of Watcher Rupert Giles --"

 

Buffy struck in the shoulder again. Just two more, she thought. One for Angel, one for me.

 

Ishak said, "And finally, for the murder of Sky Kahurangi the Vampire Slayer, this court sentences you to --"

 

Brilliant white light flashed around Angel, flashed from within him, and Buffy gasped in surprise. The cries from the crowd changed to shouts of panic and shock. Angel went rigid, his back arching as though he had been electrocuted. For a moment, he remained frozen in the light -- mouth open, eyes shut. Buffy was too stunned even to reach out to help him. Then the light faded, and he slumped to the ground.

 

Dimly, Buffy was aware of Frances hurrying to join her. Angel's eyes were still shut. He wasn't moving.

 

Unbelieving, Buffy stared at his bloodied, broken form. Too late, she thought. It worked -- it worked too late -- I hurt him too much --

 

Angel opened his eyes. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Then again. And again. He looked up at her in dazed wonder. She stumbled back, stared at the stake in her hand. It glamed red with Angel's blood -- and, deep within the grain, with traces of silvery-white from the Mohra demon blood it had soaked in all day.

 

Frances stooped at Angel's side, touched him gingerly. Then she put her hand on his chest and began to smile. She stood up and announced, "Angel has been transformed into a human."

 

"It's a miracle!" someone in the crowd yelled, and the people took up the chant. They were happy now, better than happy, ecstatic with the proof of Angel's innocence and the further proof of Buffy's semidivnity. Buffy fell to her knees, cradled Angel close.

 

"Oh, God, Angel, I'm sorry I had to hurt you --"

 

Angel shook his head. "You never give up, do you?"

 

"Not anymore," Buffy whispered. She looked up at Frances. "He needs a doctor --"

 

Markwith was staring, horrified, at the bedlam in the amphitheater. Ishak was watching too, but his expression was resigned, even sad. Frances called out, "Angel's guilt or innocence must still be determined -"

 

The crowd didn't want to hear this and began to boo, but Buffy held up her hand to silence them again. Frances continued, "As a human, Angel is entitled to the protections of law. And to a full investigation into the death of the Slayer Sky. Rest assured that we will not stop until the truth is revealed. We must now begin these investigations and see to Angel's medical care. Go back to your homes!"

 

People cheered again. Ishak lowered his chair as the dome began to close.

 

Buffy kissed Angel's forehead. "Hang on, Angel. We'll get you a transfusion or something -- I could donate blood --"

 

"You've done that enough," Angel said. He was weak, but his expression was actually more focused than it had been moments ago. "I'll be all right. The Mohra demon blood --"

 

"Yes," Frances said. The dome was finally sliding shut now. "Yes, that's right. It should heal these wounds quickly. But you'll still need a doctor --"

 

The dome slid shut, and Markwith shouted, "You mean to destroy this Council!"

 

Buffy glared up at him. "I just told the truth. Finally."

 

A Watcher Buffy had never met stood up. "If what she says is true, maybe it's time this Council was destroyed. Or at least made to do what it's meant to do --"

 

Frances said, "I've followed these procedures so long I never asked what they were for. I think we all know now."

 

Ishak's head was bowed, but he looked up at them again. "This Council must run as it has always been run. You know how much good we have done in the past. Don't question us now because an upset girl wants to help her lover. You all want to believe her words are false. Believe that."

 

"You're the real vampires here," Buffy said. "More than Angel was. More than Kean, even. At least his audience knew the price of admission to his show."

 

The Watchers were arguing among themselves now, moving around. Two small groups -- the corrupt and the outraged -- were already clear. But the largest number of Watchers were still uncertain, confused, upset. Buffy could feel the situation getting even more tense. Angel whispered, "They don't patrol, Buffy, but they do know how to fight --"

 

"Understood," she said, reaching back to grip the stake she had dropped.

 

Markwith was staring at her. "I do not know how you did this," he said. "But this was no miracle worked by the Powers."

 

"Wasn't it?" Buffy said. "I think the Powers had a lot to do with this. And you'll never convince the people of London that they didn't."

 

"The people of London believe what we tell them to believe," Markwith said.

 

"She just raised the dead in front of thirty thousand people," Frances said. "You're not going to have much luck discrediting her after that."

 

"Even when we explain the full truth behind Sky's death?" Markwith said. "Angel was certainly involved, but I think we all know the full blame lies elsewhere."

 

"Yes," Buffy said. "I killed Sky. She was killing witches -- human beings. I saw her and she tried to kill me. So I killed her."

 

The Watchers reacted to this, but in different ways. Some were glaring at her, others at Markwith. Agatha clapped her hands to her mouth, and Xiaoting's face was twisted in confusion and rage.

 

Ishak said, "We have a confession. An investigation can follow. For now, Buffy must go to the Tower."

 

Buffy lowered Angel to the ground, got to her feet. "I'm not going without a fight."

 

Frances said, "If Buffy goes into the Tower, she's not coming out again. And -- you can't take her. I won't let you." She squared her shoulders, and Buffy hoped Frances was a whole lot better in combat than she generally looked in the practice room.

 

Ishak said, "Xiaoting? Agatha? Please see to Buffy."

 

Xiaoting went quickly to do it. Agatha was crying, but she followed Xiaoting. Frances began to look a little pale. Buffy took a deep breath. This was the last thing she wanted, but she'd do what she had to do --

 

She heard the rustle of clothing next to her and turned to see Sumiko standing by her side, sword at the ready. Buffy bit her lip before whispering, "Well, that's one more on our side."

 

"I'm all you need," Sumiko said. Buffy stared. Beside her, she heard Frances gasp.

 

"Buffy is speaking the truth," Sumiko announced. At the sound of her voice -- speaking perfect, crisp English -- the entire Council was apparently shocked into silence. Markwith stepped forward, his mouth agape, but could say nothing. Sumiko continued, "I have proof of her words about the Council's acts against those who use magic outside the Keep. I have taken the documents and records from Markwith's rooms and placed them in my own. And if anyone doubts Buffy's words about Sky, they may hear Aaron Markwith confirm them himself."

 

She took one hand from her sword and put it into her pocket to pull out the small recorder. Buffy, unable to put together a more cogent statement, said, "I thought you didn't know how to use that."

 

"To play, you press play," Sumiko muttered. "To record, you press record. The principle is fairly elementary, wouldn't you say?"

 

Ishak said, "You -- you speak English."

 

"Your powers of observation are awe-inspiring," Sumiko said.

 

Markwith was staring at her with what looked like real pain in his eyes. "You lied to me," he said. "You lied to us -- why didn't you tell us?"

 

"All warfare is based on deception," Sumiko said. "Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable. When using our forces, we must seem inactive. Sun Tzu, The Art of War. The first thing I saw when I woke up were the instruments of dark magic. The darkest magic, a spell no one could use for any good purpose. I knew I could not trust those around me. And I pretended ignorance so that others would disregard me. Apparently people will say almost anything to a person they think will not understand."

 

Markwith flushed. Frances collected herself enough to say, "You realized the same things Buffy realized. And you set about proving it."

 

"I did not understand the Council's motivations, as Buffy did," Sumiko said. "I did not know why they committed murder, but I knew that they had. So I kept my silence until I had proof and opportunity. He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared. Sun Tzu again. My Watcher taught me that. He was a true warrior, and a scholar, and he knew his work in life. He did not play at being a monarch. Though, if he had seen the lot of you at it, he would have told you that both war and scholarship could prepare you better."

 

The mood in the room had changed now -- the group near Markwith and Ishak was smaller, and the other substantially bigger. Agatha had relaxed entirely and was crying openly now, but apparently from relief. Xiaoting folded her arms uncertainly, both shielding herself from Buffy and demonstrating that she would not strike.

 

Buffy went to her knees again beside Angel. "I don't believe it," he said wonderingly.

 

"Me either," she said. "But we made it, Angel. We made it."

 

Sumiko bent down near them. "Are you all right?"

 

"You rock," Buffy said. "That's a compliment, by the way."

 

Sumiko smiled. "I lived for fourteen years as a Slayer," she said. "Did you think that was luck?"

 

****************************

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Four

 

"Phoenix Rising"

 

 

 

The Council Chamber remained in chaos for long time. Everyone was arguing over who was implicated, who was not, what was to be done. However, the consensus had definitely shifted against the Watchers who were allied with Ishak and Markwith's plans. Frances seemed to have taken over the attack, and Buffy had never been happier to hear her voice so shrill with anger. Ishak defended his actions, but Markwith was just slumped in his seat, looking over at Sumiko.

 

For her part, Sumiko stayed near Angel and Buffy.

 

"There we go," said the doctor, a fairly young Watcher Buffy vaguely remembered from meetings. "All bandaged up. How quickly should the Mohra blood take to heal him completely?"

 

"If I remember correctly, perhaps ten hours," Sumiko said. "Tobias wrote about its properties once, but that was one of the subjects I never attempted to look up in the library."

 

"So that's what you were doing down there all the time," Angel said. His voice was still weak, but better than it had been. "I wondered why you kept rereading your Watcher's diaries."

 

"Mostly I sought information on this century. I only read the diaries when you were close by," Sumiko said. "And you were, very often. You are too conscientious in your duties."

 

"You're sure he's okay," Buffy said. She couldn't stop looking at the many bloodstained bandages now on Angel's body. "He doesn't need, like, antibiotics or something?"

 

"Most of the wounds have already closed," the doctor said. "He needs rest more than anything else, I should think."

 

"Thanks," Angel said. He was shaking slightly, and Buffy realized the Chamber was probably too cold for any half-clothed human, much less one in physical shock. But just then, a hand stretched out, offering a robe. Buffy took it and glanced back to see Agatha.

 

"We wouldn't have hurt you, truly we wouldn't," Agatha said. "It's just -- I never thought to doubt the Council --"

 

"I understand, Agatha," Buffy said. "You didn't know. They tried to keep you from knowing."

 

"They did the same to you," Agatha said. "And yet you knew."

 

"Yeah, but I'm paranoid and deceitful that way," Buffy said. She craned her head around to get a look at Xiaoting, who was seated in the highest, farthest section of the Chamber, arms still hugged tightly around herself. "What's up with Xiaoting?"

 

"She is -- what is that word you use? -- freaking," Agatha said, and Buffy tried very hard not to laugh. "Xiaoting feels very deeply betrayed by the Council, and very ashamed of her own willingness to believe them."

 

"Tell her it's all right," Angel said. "They got me too, and God knows I've been here long enough to know better."

 

"Sometimes it takes a fresh perspective," Buffy said. As the doctor pushed Angel into a sitting position, Buffy quickly draped the robe around his shoulders. "Maybe Sumiko and I can carry you out -- or is there a stretcher around here?"

 

"I think I can walk," Angel said. "And I'd like to. Never thought I'd walk out of here again."

 

"I will help you as far as the lift," Sumiko said. "But I will return to the Chamber in case Frances needs to be more persuasive."

 

"I'll help be persuasive," Agatha said eagerly.

 

"You do that," Buffy said with a smile.

 

Buffy and Sumiko took places on either side of Angel and helped him get to his feet. The crowd stopped its arguing and fell silent at the sight. Buffy suddenly felt a little awkward and said, "I think Angel and I are done for the day. And somebody else is going to have take my patrol tonight."

 

"I'll take it," Agatha offered.

 

"We know you're sorry already," Buffy said. "Relax."

 

Ishak did not reply, and after a moment Buffy realized there was no one person to admit or dismiss her anymore -- nobody with authority. At least, not yet. "So, we'll see you tomorrow, right, Frances?"

 

Frances straightened herself up and smiled. "Why, yes. I look forward to talking with you then. Both of you," she said, with a nod toward Angel.

 

He half-raised one arm in a wave of acknowledgement; Buffy saw him grimace, but he covered quickly. "Until tomorrow, Frances."

 

The three of them began to move toward the doors as the Council began arguing again. "You can walk like this, right?" Buffy said, still fretful as she watched his slow, halting steps. "You're sure?"

 

"I'm sure --" His words trailed off. Buffy looked up to see that someone now stood in front of them. When Angel spoke again, his voice was as cold as she had ever heard it. "Markwith."

 

Markwith shrugged, as though Buffy and Angel were mere annoyances. "You'll have your leisure to mock me, I'm sure," he said. His voice was hoarse. "I -- I wanted to talk to Sumiko --"

 

Sumiko's face was untroubled. "You were little enough interested in speaking to me before," she said. "But say what you will."

 

"You and I --" Markwith looked acutely uncomfortable, and for all her loathing of the man, Buffy couldn't help pitying him just a little. Whatever it was that had driven him down here -- that much at least was genuine. "I cared for you. I thought that you cared for me. Were you entirely deceiving me, all that time?"

 

Sumiko's eyes narrowed. "It was you who set out to deceive me. To deceive all of us about your goals and motivations. I did what was necessary for the truth, no more."

 

Markwith took it hard, Buffy saw; his jaw clenched, and his hands trembled. But he kept his voice steady as he said, "And that was all there ever was to it. For you."

 

"You knew that I was married to my Watcher. If you had bothered to learn anything about him, you would have learned that he was, above all, a man of honor," Sumiko said. For her late husband, her voice betrayed the emotion Markwith had sought. "If you thought to erase his memory with your lies, your crimes committed for your own gain --" She shrugged. "More fool you."

 

Markwith stepped away from them, his head bent. As the three of them went past him into the hall, Buffy muttered, "Ouch. What a burn."

 

Angel apparently did not share in the scraps of sympathy Buffy felt. "Had it coming."

 

Sumiko guided them to the lift, then waved farewell quickly before returning to the Chamber. Buffy took Angel's weight on her good shoulder as she pressed the panel for her floor. Angel looked at her. "Your place this time?"

 

"Your windows are all bricked over," Buffy said. "I want you to see the sun."

 

Angel's whole face lit up, and the bruises and blood were almost invisible for a minute; Buffy was blinded to anything but that smile. "I'd like that a lot." Then the smile dimmed a little, and all the pain showed again. "Buffy, I spent last night so angry at myself -- I thought, we had the chance, I had the chance, and I let it go because I didn't want to let myself hope --"

 

"It's okay," Buffy said, brushing against his cheek with her fingertips. "We got one more chance after all."

 

"Because of you," Angel said. He shook his head a little. "You know, this is how I remembered you."

 

"As a bloodstained crazy woman with a stake in her hand?" Buffy laughed. "Sadly, this would not surprise me."

 

"No," he said. "That's not what I meant at all." Buffy felt a sudden flush of understanding and pride, and she beamed up at him.

 

They got to her floor, made their way down the hall, got inside her room. Buffy breathed out a little sigh of disappointment when the sky outside the window was already dark. "The sun set," Angel said.

 

"I'm sorry," Buffy said. "But, hey, there's a sunrise scheduled tomorrow."

 

Angel shook his head, and she realized he was smiling again. "It set, and I didn't feel it. Nothing. It -- it doesn't matter anymore."

 

Buffy hugged him gingerly, then moved him over to her bed. His tunic was still stretched across it, as was the pocketwatch. She hurriedly put them away as Angel sank gratefully onto the mattress. Once again, she saw the bloodstained bandages, the spatters of dried blood on his skin and clothing. "Be right back," she promised, then turned and ran into the bathroom.

 

She spared one second to glance at herself in the mirror, wondered if it was worth getting Angel up again to see his reflection, decided it could wait. Quickly she scrubbed Angel's blood off her face and hands, then rinsed out a cloth she took to his side. "Here," she said. "Let's get this stuff off you."

 

As she patted the cloth gently on his brow, Angel glimpsed the reddish streaks she'd soaked up. "Human blood," he said. "I can smell it, but it doesn't tell me anything. Doesn't make me hungry. It's just -- blood."

 

Buffy continued cleaning him up, wiping down his chest, marveling even as she did so at the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. She reached his waist, hesitated, then began tugging off his pants. "Gotta tell you," she said, "I figured the next time I got your clothes off, it would go a whole lot different than this."

 

"This wasn't quite how I saw it either," Angel admitted. Buffy carefully tended to the blood from the blow she'd dealt to his thigh.

 

Not until she was done, and she stepped away from him for a moment to make sure everything was done, did it really hit her. Angel was lying in her bed, naked, looking up at her, fully human now, no curse to stop them --

 

"Buffy --" Angel said, gazing at her hungrily. She took in a deep breath, feeling a familiar rush of passion, an unfamiliar rush of possibility --

 

Quickly she stripped off her clothes, standing naked before him for a moment. The heat in his eyes matched the blaze of emotion and wanting that was building within her. Just seeing him, being seen by him, created a kind of hunger that would only be satisfied when they were finally, truly together, body and soul.

 

She climbed into bed with Angel, pulled him close, and at that moment he looked over at her and said -- "Ow! Oh, oh, no."

 

"Ahhgh," Buffy groaned as she tried to balance on her own wounded arm, then flopped down beside him. "Oh, bad idea."

 

"Good idea," Angel corrected her. "Bad time. Dammit."

 

"It's always something," Buffy said. "Why couldn't the Mohra demon blood work on the first strike?"

 

"Because the other charges were true," Angel said. "The Powers let me take the punishment for the crimes I had committed. They saved me before I died for the one crime I hadn't." He sighed, then looked over at her with a wistful smile. "I waited 350 years; I can make it one more night. Especially knowing you'll be here in the morning."

 

"I only waited two and a half years," Buffy said. "But I don't think I can wait anymore." She used her good arm to push herself up this time; although she was still tired and sore, those feelings were quickly fading to the background. All that remained was something that was partly desire but more a deep, overwhelming tenderness.

 

Buffy shifted herself so that she could put her legs on either side of his, then bent over and kissed him gently on the lips, careful not to put her weight on his body as she did so. He returned the kiss for a moment, then pulled away. "Buffy -- are you sure --"

 

"I'm sure." She put her hand on the center of his chest, just above his heart. Angel's skin was warm. His heart thumped against her palm. His chest rose and fell with his breathing. She remembered the cool stillness of his vampire body. Strange, that she should feel a pang of loss for that. One more part of her past -- their past -- erased by time. "We'll figure this out. You'll see."

 

Angel put one of his hands over hers, and she realized he was trembling slightly. "I know we don't have to be scared anymore," he said. "I know that, and still --"

 

"Shhhh," Buffy whispered, leaning over him for another kiss. "I'm gonna take good care of you."

 

**

 

Buffy looked through the glass dome of the gardens, taking in the pink dawn light. Angel would see all this, in just a few moments, when she woke him up with his first real breakfast in centuries --

 

She quickly started going through the orchard, looking for the good pears she'd had a few weeks ago. The grass was soft beneath her bare feet, and the air was cool and fresh. Buffy felt as though she could float in it, soar to what she needed, then fly back down to Angel again. But as she ran up to the right tree, Buffy paused for a minute; she remembered Sky sitting there, a big grin on her young face.

 

That's going to be with me a while, she thought. Probably forever. Like stabbing Faith, or sending Angel to hell. I keep wishing those things would go away, but I don't think they ever will. I wanted to put all those burdens down, but it doesn't work that way. You just keep carrying them around until they become a part of you, and you don't feel the weight anymore.

 

Once this line of thought would have depressed her. Now, though, it seemed simple and true, something not to be regretted, just to be known.

 

Buffy stepped up to the tree to pluck some pears for Angel's breakfast, but one whiff of the fruit reminded her that she'd had precious little to eat in far too long. The first one she grabbed from the branch went straight to her mouth. The sweetness of it was pure, physical delight, and she wolfed it down greedily, occasionally even licking the juice from her fingers.

 

Just as she finished, Buffy caught sight of another figure in the gardens. This one was seated in what appeared to be meditation, but when Buffy took a few steps closer, she looked up. "Hey, there, English-speakin' lady," Buffy said.

 

"Good morning, Buffy," Sumiko said. "How is Angel?"

 

"He's great," Buffy said. "Way better. He woke up for a while a couple hours ago, and we checked him out -- he can, you know, move around now, and he has all his feeling back in his extremities, and he's all flexible again, and he can support his weight on his arms or -- uh --" Buffy cleared her throat. Sumiko was smiling at her knowingly. "He's good. He's very, very good. And we need another topic. So what ended up going down in the Council Chamber? I mean, what happened?"

 

"Most of your slang is fairly comprehensible from context," Sumiko said. "The Council has sent to the Tower most of those Watchers who were complicit in undermining the fight against vampires. Ishak was excused due to his age, but he is confined to his rooms for now, and likely for some time to come. Frances is standing in as temporary leader until they can elect another, but I suspect she will be chosen then, as well."

 

"Way to go, Frances," Buffy said with a grin. "She's pretty stiff, but she's good people, really."

 

"I realize that now," Sumiko said as Buffy came to her side and sat down on the grass with her. "I thought as much, and even considered taking her into my confidence at one point. With her help, I would have gotten the proof I needed far sooner. In time, perhaps, to spare Sky. And to spare you the pain of having to stop her." Sumiko's eyes were sad. "But I was reluctant to trust her, and my doubt has led us here."

 

"Your doubt totally saved the day," Buffy said. "Don't knock it." She looked over at Sumiko and started to smile as she shook her head. "How did you keep yourself from talking?"

 

"It wasn't very hard at first," Sumiko said. "I was like the rest of you -- in shock. This place was extraordinarily strange to me. And I knew I would never see Tobias again; there were nights I thought I would die from the pain of that alone. I did not want to talk. The only time I was tempted was when you were having such difficulty, early on." Sumiko's expression was kind. "Before you found Angel again, I was afraid for you. Another few days, and I would have spoken, to find out how desperate your circumstances truly were."

 

Buffy ducked her head. "You did a pretty good job taking care of me anyway," she said. "By the way, thanks for that."

 

"It helped me, too," Sumiko said. "The others focused so much better on being Slayers. But I could only think of what I had lost."

 

She was quiet for a minute, and Buffy smiled at her. "Tell me about Tobias sometime."

 

"I'd like that," Sumiko said.

 

"And I'm still in awe that you got all that info, and got into Markwith's, um, head, and did all that stuff without saying a word."

 

"Honestly, that part was fairly simple. When nobody suspects you know anything, you can do everything. And if I needed to learn more, I could always do the wrong thing -- people would quickly explain, even though I supposedly could not understand. For instance, at first I pretended to attack Angel in the Chamber, and you told me the whole story. The one difficulty --"

 

"What?"

 

"-- was not laughing." Sumiko began to chuckle as she put an exaggerated expression on her face and patted her chest with her hand. "We -- are -- Slayers. Slay. Ers."

 

Buffy made a face as Sumiko fell back, laughing, into the grass. "Yuk it up over there," she said. "We were trying to help."

 

"I know," Sumiko choked out. "But the great big eyes you'd all make --"

 

While Sumiko attempted to collect herself, Buffy began laughing too. "How did you know they wouldn't find someone who spoke Japanese?"

 

"I didn't," Sumiko said, wiping her cheeks. "At first I was actually pretending to have amnesia. Would've worked just as well."

 

Buffy then grinned and waved as she saw somebody else. "We're all up at dawn today, huh?"

 

Frances came over looking more frazzled and frizzy than Buffy'd ever seen her before. "Oh. Having trouble sleeping. There's so very much to think about --"

 

"The burdens of power," Buffy said. "Bummer."

 

"But you will have Buffy to help you," Sumiko said. "She is the one with all the plans for fighting the war."

 

"Hey!" Buffy protested. "I started the revolution yesterday. I'll wage the war tomorrow. But I want to spend today responsibility free, hangin' with my guy, okay?"

 

"Take as long as you need," Frances said. "But I do need someone -- perhaps one of you -- to undertake a project for us very soon."

 

"What project?" Sumiko said.

 

"We missed a Slayer," Frances said. "The girl called after Sky's death is not one of our students here in the Keep."

 

"Do you know where she is?" Buffy asked.

 

"Fortunately, yes. We received word late last night from one of our contacts in northern Ireland. A 15-year-old named Ruth seems to be the next chosen one. We'd looked at her when she was small, but thought the potential wasn't actually there. Obviously, we need to work on the system some more."

 

Buffy thought about that for a minute. "I don't know whether to be glad for her or pity her."

 

"She will have help," Sumiko said. "And this time, she will have a Council that is on her side."

 

"Precisely," Frances said brightly. "We're lucky that this one has been called so close to London, but it will still be dangerous, getting her here for training. And she must have training."

 

Sumiko raised an eyebrow. "And you want one of us to undertake the journey."

 

"Cool," Buffy said. "Road trip."

 

**

 

When Buffy came back to her apartment, Angel was already awake, sitting on her sofa and wolfing down a bowl of muesli as though it were the greatest stuff on earth. She could still see the marks of yesterday's trial on his skin, but the welts were already pale. He looked away from the sunlit streets reluctantly, but when he met her eyes again, he beamed. "Good morning."

 

"Brought you some apples and pears," she said, dropping them onto the sofa. "I so didn't want that birdseed to be your first human breakfast in umpteen years."

 

"Are you kidding?" Angel said. "This is wonderful."

 

"You think so, huh?" Buffy held one of the pears up to his mouth. "Take a taste."

 

He bit down, and she laughed out loud as she saw the surprised delight in his eyes. As Angel chewed, slowly, obviously treasuring every moment, Buffy carefully took the bowl of muesli away from him and set it on the table nearby. "Oh, my God," he mumbled. "That's beautiful."

 

"Glad you like." She leaned forward and kissed him quickly; their lips were sticky-sweet. Then she let him get back to devouring the pear. As she took up an apple for herself, she said, "Frances is the big boss woman now."

 

"Where's Ishak?" Angel said, and though he attempted to be cool about it, Buffy could hear the hurt in his voice.

 

"He's still here," she said. "They've kinda got him under house arrest. You could go talk to him, if you wanted."

 

Angel thought about that for a minute. "I think I do," he said. "Not now. Not soon. But sometime."

 

"So," Buffy said. "We have to ask ourselves whether it would be easier to move your stuff up here, or to move my stuff down there and get rid of the bricks over your window."

 

"I think I like your apartment," Angel said. "It's closer to the other Slayers, the view is great, and I seem to remember a table in the kitchen."

 

She grinned. "Many, many attractions here at Chez Buffy."

 

"I'm just glad we're finally here." Angel looked at her and took a deep -- and wonderfully, terrifically needed -- breath. He leaned forward and kissed her again, slower and more gently this time. "I never thought I'd be this happy, ever again."

 

"I didn't either," she said, running one hand through his not-as-short hair. "But we need to settle a couple things, okay?"

 

"Anything," Angel said.

 

"Stop with the keeping secrets. Somebody else hands you destiny in a bottle, or any similarly important, might-wanna-mention-it thing like that? You tell me this time."

 

"Promise," Angel said. When she looked at him dubiously, he sighed. "I mean it."

 

"We'll see," Buffy said, scrunching up her face in a playful scowl. But then she got more serious. "And, not to put a downer on the day, but I just want it taken care of from the start." She took a deep breath. "When I die --"

 

"Buffy --" His face was pained.

 

"Don't stop me. You may be human now, but I'm still the Slayer, and we both know the way it works, okay? When I die, don't let them take a lock of my hair. Put that old sweater on the pyre with me. Make sure they don't bring me back again." She looked at him tenderly. "This is my last life. The one I'm going to have here with you. That's all I ever want or need, and when it ends, I'm just going to be grateful for what I've had. Promise me."

 

He kissed her hard for a long time. When Angel finally released her, he said, "I promise." And this time she had no doubts.

 

"What about you?" she said. "Any terms you want in the prenup?"

 

Angel shook his head. "I have everything I ever wanted, right now." She kissed him this time, put her hands against his chest, felt his heart beating against her palm again. When she pulled away, he said, "But please cut down on the number of times you have to stake, stab or impale me."

 

"I'll do what I can." She snuggled up with him on the sofa, and they sat in silence, watching the city and eating their breakfast, for quite a while. Buffy felt almost dazed with happiness, and a kind of gratitude -- not to Angel, or at any rate not only to him, but to everyone and everything that had gotten her to this place, at this moment. That had shaped her into the person who could walk in this world, no matter what it cost.

 

Death is my gift, she realized, because it should make me appreciate my life. Even the hard stuff, the terrible things I tried so hard to push away. Those moments make me who I am, just the same as all the fun and happiness and love. The First Slayer wasn't telling me that death is the gift of a Slayer. It's the gift of being human.

 

Thinking of the First Slayer reminded her. "Oh, Frances has a mission for us, should we choose to accept it." When Angel looked at her questioningly, she explained, "We'd go to northern Ireland to pick up the new Slayer, who somehow just slipped right through the screening process."

 

"That's quite a trip," Angel said. "Dangerous."

 

"Yeah, and London is so safe this time of NEVER."

 

Angel looked at her curiously. "You really want to go, don't you?"

 

"Yeah," Buffy said, surprising herself. "I really do. I felt good the first time I got to take a look at the city on my own terms. As bad as it was -- at least I knew for myself. I could see. And there were still signs of life all over. I think I'd like to know if that's true when I start seeing a little more of the world. Besides, hey, we can go check for the Statue of Liberty, all buried in the sand, and do our best Charlton Heston impersonations."

 

"Would I have gotten this joke 350 years ago?"

 

"Probably not. You up for the trip, cowboy?"

 

"I'll go wherever you go," Angel said. "I just worry, that's all." His face was more serious as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face.

 

"Don't worry," Buffy said with a smile. "You're safe if you're with me."

 

************************

 

 

 

THE END

 

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