PART ONE

Oh the leaves, they fall
They go so far sometimes
Do I blame the wind, or the tree that let it go?
Or do I… wave goodbye?
So many times I needed you to be strong for me

“Settling” – Tara Maclean


“Your what is *what*?” I repeat, staring at him with endless questions in my eyes.

He sighs, and then his palm brushes my cheek ever so lightly. “A few months ago, Darla and I were researching a particular demon we had come across. I happened to stumble upon a spell. A soul-binding spell.” His breath comes out in a rush, and his eyes glow for a moment in the dimness of the gym.

The back of my neck runs with sweat. I can feel the tiny trickles of blood from my split lip and nostril dripping down my chin. With an absent hand, I catch them on the knuckles of my fingers and watch the redness seep into my shiny skin. The room smells musty and musky, like our fight and kisses and confusion. “I'm not sure what to say.”

He nods. “It's all right. Don't say anything.”

“But I sort of half to,” I mumble. “This is the kind of thing I used to dream about---“ I break off and smile slightly, turning away. “I mean… this is big stuff. How do you know… how do you know if it works or not?”

I feel his hand, cool on my hot skinned shoulder, as he whispers, “I don't. Would you like to find out?”

All the blood rushes to my cheeks, and I feel my knees weaken. “You broke my nose.”

“You broke me,” he answers softly.

I falter a little, my breath hitching. “How did I do that?”

“You died,” he replies flatly, and stares down at the floor.

“You left me.”

“I had to.”

"Well, so did I.”

He sighs and runs an angry hand through tousled hair. “We're not even, Buffy. Not even close. I went to the next town. You went into another world. You left me, yourself, your friends… everything- behind you. Without even a second glance, I'm told.”

“I'm sorry,” I whisper, and feel the tears burn in my eyes.

He looks up, smiling slightly, tenderly. “Don't be sorry. Just love me.”

“You know I do,” I sob, and touch his chest with trembling fingers. “But I don't know how to be with you, again. It's been six years since you loved me back, Angel. Six years since I had something real in my life. Do you know how long that is? I lived for years without you- and I had sex, and I had boyfriends and I had Spike panting after me, and I had Dawnie, and I had Glory, and I had my Mom dying and leaving me alone, and I had *so* much to deal with.” I break off and stare up at him, my eyes wide and diamond bright. “While you lived in LA, I died. A million times. Little deaths- hundreds of little deaths. That time when I jumped off the tower, Angel?”

“Yeah?” he says in a stricken voice.

I walk over to the door and rub my sore forehead, which seems to throb with the unsteady beat of my heart. “I was just making it official.”

~~~

Spike's room is a long way from the Gym. I know because I sniff out it's scent, it's weak. Spinning around, I go in the direction where it's strongest, and trail my fingers along the dusty ledges as I walk. I cough and feel the sting of vomit at the back of my throat, which is coppery, like blood. My nose drips freely and the drops look like tiny rosebuds as they decorate the floor with crimson.

I don't know how to live in this world. I don't know how to hope that my friends will come out of this alive- that anything can ever be the same again? I don't know how to reconcile that my sister craves blood. That she drinks it and licks her lips clean. I don't know how to be Buffy, in a world that needs me so badly, but that I have no idea how to help.

I don't know how to love Angel again. How to *be* with Angel again. What if he leaves again? What if he decides it's for my own good… and he leaves? Pain cramps my belly and I stop for a moment, gasping. It's no good. It's never been any good. I love him, and I can't have him and that should be the end of the story… right? Trying to breathe, I lean against the wall and swallow, remembering when I was stronger than I am now, and I feared nothing- I feared nothing and so many things feared me.

“Losing your mind, Slayer?”

I hear Spike's lazy drawl from behind me and whirl, facing him head on.

He smiles slowly and the cigarette between his lips glows bright orange. “Join the club. I lost mine long ago.”

“I'm not going crazy,” I close my eyes briefly, and cock my head. “And neither are you. But we're both trapped, aren't we?”

“By what?” he asks, sucking on the smoke like it's going to curl inside him and make a new body.

“Everything,” I shrug. “You're a vampire, I'm a Slayer. We're caught in this world that neither of us understand. I'm alive and you're dead and I'm supposed to be dead… you turned my sister and I hate you for it. We're trapped.”

He grins and taps his boot against the wall with an absent stroke. “You might be trapped, blondie, but I'm enjoying this world. Nothing but demons- all the namby-pamby bloody humans gone from sight? It's like heaven.”

I take a step closer to him and lay a hand on his arm. “It is not. It's Hell. And you told me once you never wanted Hell on earth. You *liked* this world. It may have been for sick and severely screwed up reasons… but you did like this world the way it was. Don't lie to me, Spike. Not again.”

He breathes harshly and throws off my fingers, getting so close to me that I can feel edges of his leather jacket against my breasts. Menace is coming off him in bitterly hot waves. “When did I lie to you, Slayer?”

“Shall I count the times?” I laugh, ticking them off on my fingers. “When you told me you didn't turn Dawnie. When you told me you'd look after her. When you told me Angel was dead. When you told me that everyone was dead.”

“I thought Angel *was* dead!” he snarls, and leans over me, his mouth against my forehead. “I thought we were all going to die! What right do you have to judge, you little bitch? You died. You jumped off that fucking tower and expected us all to deal with you being gone.” He chuckles, and the sound bounces off the stone ceiling with a quiet fury. “I didn't owe you any explanations.” His palm grips my bare neck and he yanks back my head. I pant a little, my breath coming out in little puffs that he seems to drink as he speaks. “Want to know why I fucked Dawn? Because she was part of you. I always wanted you, Slayer. I always loved you. Craved you. Wanted to fuck you and kill you and beat you to a bloody mess.”

His fangs push against his gums and as his lips brush against my throat, I feel the tips of them- knifelike and razor sharp with pain, push against my skin.

“If you kill me, you know Angel will hunt you down,” I whisper, not even scared, which it occurs to me I should be.

He laughs and laughs, his chest heaving. “Who broke your nose, Buffy?”

“Angel,” I murmur.

“Right. You think I would ever hurt you? You think I want you to die again?”

“Yes.”

Nodding, he growls, “Maybe that's true. Maybe you're right.” I feel the pads of his fingers squeeze my throat, and my vision blurs. “But just maybe I love you enough to keep you around.” The slide of his fanged mouth against mine is hot and cold at the same time, and I whimper, as he kisses me and then his tongue licks the blood on my chin. “Just maybe.”

Throwing me away, he watches as I wheeze a little. His eyes burn with malicious lust and such rage that I feel my bones and skin weaken under the assault. “Take me to Dawn,” I order, and he shakes his head.

“Still giving orders. You never learn, Slayer.”

But his hand grasps my elbow and he pulls me along with him through a series of dimly lit corridors that all smell of musty carpets and worn out lanterns, thick with wax. Unlocking a door, he walks in and I follow, seeing my sister sitting on the window seat, brushing her long locks as she presses her face to the glass, watching whatever is outside.

“I told you to stay away from the window, lil bit,” Spike warns gently, his hand threading through Dawn's hair. She leans back against him without looking, purring;

“I know, Spike. But I love to watch the people. So many different faces. We never got to see people in the old house.”

“I know, pet,” he murmurs, and leans down to kiss her, his hands fanning her back as he lifts her into his arms and she curves her body into his.

“I brought someone to see you,” he says, and her face lights up for a moment.

“Who?”

“Your sister, luv. She's right over there.”

He points to the shadows where I wait. He sets her down and she wobbles slightly, her feet like spears in their black pointed boots. Her lush red lips turn down in a moue of disappointment as she scowls. “I was hoping it was Angelus. He always brings me such nice gifts.”

Spike growls. “When was Angelus here, Dawn?”

“Just a second ago. He brought me chocolate. And a diary. I don't know why- I said I don't write in them, but he asked me to. He says I used to. I didn't know what he meant. Angelus is so nice.”

“His name is Angel,” I say firmly, and step forward, my hands gripping my sister's shoulders. “And the reason he brought you a diary is because you used to write in one, Dawnie. When you were smaller. You loved your diaries. Can't you remember?”

“No,” she wriggles a little, and gasps like a fish caught on a sharp hook. “I can't. Why does everyone try and make me remember things? I can't. Stop it, Buffy.”

“How do you remember that's what my name is?” I pounce, and shake her slightly.

She stops, confused. “I don't know. I just do.” Her thumbs touch my cheeks and she frames my face with her hands. “You're Buffy. My sister.” Her eyes blink and she breathes out. “And I hate you. You left me behind.”

“I saved you,” I protest, wanting to hug her close. Wanting to weep. Where has my little sister gone? Where is the girl I knew? Who is this creature that wears her face and calls my love by his demon name?

“No you didn't,” she whispers. “You left me. I'm all alone. Except for Spike.” Twisting from my embrace, she turns and goes into his arms. “I'm hungry. Please feed me.“

He smiles- and it's not nice. It's cruel, and hard, and his lips are flushed pink from my blood. “Of course, Dawn,” he says as he unbuttons his shirt slowly, revealing smooth white skin- brown nipples and a flat belly. My insides ache. “Go ahead, luv.”

She giggles, and vamps out, her fangs cutting clean and deep into a vein near his belly. He flinches slightly and strokes her hair. I watch, frozen in place with horror.

“What is it Slayer?” he asks huskily. “You want a taste too?”

Shaking my head, I stumble from the room, falling against the wall in a haze. I hate him. I hate whoever brought me back to this world I don't know.

~~~

Back in the room I remember Angel bringing me to what seems like years ago, I lie down and close my eyes. No warm washcloth sops away my tears as I fall asleep, my eyes meeting those of the raven's as I am hurled into oblivion.

The desert is hot, and the sun is even hotter. Its red rays are welcome after the dreariness of London and I step onto the sand, feeling the welts rising between my bare toes from the burning grains. It doesn't hurt and I lift my face to the heavens.

“Enjoying the sun, Buffy?”

Opening my eyes, I jerk in surprise and stare at her. “

I don't know,” I answer. “Have you come to kill me, Faith?”

She shrugs, the motion of her slim shoulders underneath a red top smooth and controlled. “I don't think so. It's not why I came.”

“Then why did you?”

She smiles. “Always to the point. Haven't you missed me at all?”

I swallow and see the tumble of her black hair down her back and can almost smell the sharpness and sweetness of her sweat. “Can't say that I have. Another girl possessing my body and enjoying a night of sex with my boyfriend is not something I really miss.”

“Come of it,” she scoffs. “You were more upset that he couldn't tell the difference. Besides…” she pauses, “he wasn't worthy of you, B.”

“And who is?” I ask with a toughness that I don't feel.

The skate of her fingernail against my bare wrist makes me tremble. “No one. But that's not what I came to talk to you about.” She circles me without any intent that I can see, but it makes me nervous and I follow her movements with my eyes. “Willow sent me. We're all trying to get through to you, Buffy. But you won't listen.”

“I never would,” I whisper and she grins, her teeth sharp.

“That's what I said, but no one listens to me, either. You have to wake up, B. You gotta fight. You're losing it, you know that? Three words, each beginning with F should be your motto right now. Forgive, Forget and Fight.”

“Was that the lesson for today?” I inquire warily, and she sighs.

“Can't you ever let it go?”

“No,” I say quietly. “Never.”

“So I slept with Riley,” she begins, “Big—“

“No!” I cry out, surprising us both. “You made him yell at me. You made him hit me. You made him choose you. All because you were a soul that needed saving. You know… there was a time, Faith, when I knew he would choose me over you in a heartbeat. I don't have that anymore. That assurance.”

She laughs at me, and it enrages me to the point where red dots swim before my eyes. “Get over it, B. He'll always choose you. Don't you think I know that? That I always knew it. And so do you- if you'd just get over yourself already. Jesus…” she lets out her breath in a rush. “Everyone always chose you. Even me.”

“What are you trying to say, Faith?”

“Fight, B.” Her hand drags down my hip and she presses a dry kiss to my forehead. “What are you going to do? Lie down and die? That's not you.”

Faith. If only she hadn't succumbed to the madness and stayed my sister under the skin. So many times I screamed for her in the night when I walked alone. “Maybe it's not.” I touch the fringe of her hair and step away. “Did I become you?”

She shakes her head. “I don't know.”

The sands start to dissolve and melt, and the red sun spins as I drift into the feathers and black eyes.

(whisper, love. Sleep…)

What are ya gonna do, B? You can't kill me

This is about saving somebody's soul

You become me

Drink. Drink me

Close your eyes

Buffy?

Why are your lips still moving, F?

Big love

When you kiss me, I wanna die

Big loss

Buffy? What's going on? I don't remember

You should be moving on and dealing with it

I have a boyfriend. His name is Scott

But you're not

What about me? I love you so much

(walk with the night. You are the dead)

Keep your slayer friends out of our—

I walk

I talk

I shop

I sneeze

Just the kill

Not as easy as it looks…

I know you never loved me

How am I supposed to go on with my life? Knowing what we had---

Buffy?

You have a father's love for the child

Who are you?

(the Slayer does not walk in this world. Walk, talk, shop, sneeze… you are alone)

Hello, lover

You don't have a lot of time left

It's not enough time! Nooooo

----What we could have had?

Close your eyes

I had to

I loved you

I'm afraid--- you

You should be--- should be

Stay with me?

Even if you kill me

(screamsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss)

How's forever?

I love you.

What are you gonna do, B?

Kill me?

Nothing can change that

You become me

Scar tissue. It fades. It all fades

Not even death

(He's dead. You're dead. It's all a little death)

You think you know?

What you

Are?

Buffy?

I don't remember

Close your eyes

I wake with a jerk, cold sweat running down my spine. Tears swell in my eyes and I climb from the bed on wobbling legs, my knees cracking slightly as I move to the door.

A quiet voice stops me from the shadows, “What were you dreaming of?”

I turn, shaking and crying even more. “Of you. Oh Angel.”

I see him hold out his arms and I rush into the circle of his embrace, raising my face to his. His mouth captures mine and I give myself to the kiss, our breath, our hearts, one alive and one not, pressed together. “I love you. I never stopped,” I whisper urgently, and he kisses my hair, holding me close.

“I know, I know, love. I never stopped either. Don't worry. Don't worry, anymore. We'll keep each other safe.”

Taking his hands, I lead him to the bed, feeling the cool sheets against the backs of my legs. He throbs against my stomach as he kisses me. “Are you sure?”

“Shut up,” I smile against his mouth and curve my arms around his neck, fumbling with an insane need to be closer, to be inside of him. Our clothes fall to the floor, and my skin burns as he sweeps his palms over my breasts, the nipples peaking angrily, swollen under his mouth and tongue. I moan, my hips arching as he travels the world of my skin with his mouth.

“You taste like salt,” he murmurs drunkenly, and I whimper, pushing him on his back and bending to my knees, feeling his heaviness between my hands. Light-headed with desire, I slide my lips around him and hear his groan, his hands tangling and pulling at my hair as I drink him down, my thighs trembling.

“Buffy…Buffy…Buffy…” he moans incoherently, and I bend my knees on either side of him, sliding him inside my body, until our stomachs touch and it almost hurts he's so deep inside me.

My swollen insides convulse as he flips me over onto my back and slams into my body, his hands holding my thighs so wide apart I think he's going to split me in two. It's all I've ever wanted- him filling me again. Him inside me again. Screaming, my head thrown back, I feel it all building and building as his cool heat and strength flood my womb and his groan against my lips turns into a desperate kiss.

Gasping, I hold him against me, our sweat slick bodies tangled together.

I don't sleep. I watch him as he drifts into slumber and I wait for morning to break, wondering what it will bring.

And if I don't make it, know that,
I loved you all along
Just like sunny days that we ignore
Because we're all dumb and jaded
And I hope to God I figure out what's wrong

“4am” – Our Lady Peace


Dawn streaks the sky as I close the curtains, their heaviness sliding between my fingers as I flex my muscles a little, wincing at the welcome soreness between my legs. Angel has wind chimes hanging outside the open window and I hear them tinkle, their musical rhymes so sinister after the day I found my Mom sprawled on the couch with dead eyes. Breathing out slowly, I tip-toe into the bathroom, running the cold water in the sink with shaking hands, dunking my head underneath the spray and watching the droplets cascade down my bare shoulders. I shiver and stare with shining eyes into the mirror.

Does sex make everything better? Angel made love to me four times during the long night, and I tasted his skin and felt him come inside me. Felt his cool heat dripping down between my legs and staining the sheets. Once he bit my neck, and the hot blood seeped into his mouth. I raked his back with my nails and screamed his name hundreds of times, my throat hoarse, my skin aching and throbbing and dissolving under his delicious weight. He murmured “Buffy, Buffy, my love, Buffy, baby, my sweet love” over and over into my flesh and the words hung like musk in the air, inflaming me further and making tears slip down my cheeks. Does sex make everything better?

I don't know. It certainly did the last time.

Squeezing the moisture from my hair, I wash my face quickly with aloe scented soap and sponge down my sweating body. My skin is glowing. Jesus. I have that “fucked out” look, and I hope no one notices. I remember the morning of my seventeen birthday, coming home to get ready for school, wondering where the hell Angel was… where the hell my virginity was. I stared in the mirror, just like I am now, tried to disguise my flaming cheeks, my bright eyes, my tousled hair. I was walking funny, because Angel was… well, big and he hurt me. But… it was a good hurt.

I feel hands on my back, and although I see nothing behind me, I whisper, “Hi baby.” Pausing, I snuggle back against him and start in surprise. “You feel—“ Spinning, I flinch, and stare.

Spike smiles at me, slowly, his lips curling. “Expecting someone else, Slayer?”

I don't bother covering up. He's already seen everything there is to see anyway. “Well I don't know, Spike. Use your non-existent brain cells for a moment. Have I ever gotten voluntarily naked in front of you?” I snap, and he scowls.

“You sure were cozying up to me in that hotel room, blondie.”

“What do you want, Spike?”

He shrugs. “You?”

My stomach twists. “Besides the unattainable?”

He laughs again, huskily. “To tell you that the first recon mission is today. You, me and Peaches are going, so you two better get---“ he's cut off as a hand grabs him by the throat and hurls him against the wall.

“What in the fuck are you doing in the same room with her, Spike?” Angel snarls and looks me up and down for a second. “You've really got a deathwish, don't you boy?”

Spike holds up his hands protestingly. “She was naked when I got here, Peaches. Is it my fault she hasn't covered up?”

Sighing, I grab a towel and wrap it around my body, stalking into the next room, and picking up a brush. My hair drips down my back, wetting the carpet around my feet. I hear Angel growling to his childe in a low voice as I comb out the slight tangles in my blonde waves and pull on a pair of leather pants and a long sleeved black tight shirt. Absently, I hear Spike leaving (or being thrown out) and turn around, facing my lover, who is eying me with something akin to confusion and anger rolled into one.

“Buffy,” he begins carefully, “why were you naked in front of Spike?”

I shrug. “I was naked when he got here. I thought he was you cause I couldn't see him, I snuggled in, turned around, he saw everything so I saw no point in covering up.”

He breathes out. He's trying to control his temper, I can tell. “Buffy… do I have to remind you how dangerous Spike is?”

I nod. “I know. And I'm perfectly capable of handling myself.” Walking over to him, I cup his face in my hands, bringing his head down and pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. “Don't worry, baby. I can handle Spike.”

“The way he looks at you,” Angel says quietly. “I don't like it.”

I remember that he doesn't know that Spike's in love with me. He wasn't in my life when all that was happening. It's a startling thought. I realize I can't really fathom a life without him in it- already. He's taken me that fast. “He's just a horny vampire,” I tease. “Like someone else I know. Listen… he told me that we're going on the first mission today. You ready? Have you ever gone on one of these before?”

He doesn't appreciate me changing the subject, but then sighs, resigned. “I've been on a few, none of which were that successful. Mostly they're just to see what the camps are like- check for weaknesses, that kind of thing. Also, we try and steal as many weapons as we can. The demons have sheds all over the camps for that- and they're not easy to get into.”

“Could my friends be in some of those camps?” I ask softly.

He kisses my head, and strokes my hair, pressing my face into his chest. “Maybe. Buffy, no one knows exactly what happened to your friends. We looked for them, I swear we did. But it was so chaotic in the first months. I think Giles must be in the special camp- for Watchers. It's small. Just outside London.”

“I have dreams—“ I break off. I'm not ready to share the dreams of the raven and of my friends. Of Faith. They're too fresh. “I have dreams where we save everyone.”

He holds me tighter. “Hopefully they'll become reality, Buffy.”

“Yeah, we can always hope, right?” I say wryly.

He smiles- I can almost hear it. “Always.”

I tilt my face up and he presses an almost chaste kiss to my mouth.

~~~

The trucks are large, and grey. The air bites into my arms as we climb into the backs, which are covered by moldy canvas. Inhaling, I lean back and the tires rumble as they bump over gravel roads and grassy plains. Angel's fingers grip mine. They're icy cold, and reassuring. Spike sits across from us, making a conscious effort not to look at me or Angel or our joined hands. His eye is ringed with a shiny purple, and I realize Angel must have punched him clear in the face. It almost makes me smile. Almost.

The trip is short, but it seems long. We stop at the gates of the camp for what seems like hours, but I know it is mere seconds. They don't suspect anything. Bronwen told me before we left that they stole these trucks from the demons about five months ago and had never been able to use them until now. She grinned as she said it, her lips faintly blue, and I stared at her, knowing she didn't get it. She doesn't. Get it, that is. She's very unaware of what is actually going on, and that's fine with me. A lot of people are, and it's my duty to make sure they never have to find out. It's my duty to save people before they understand how close they have come to dying.

“It's time,” Angel whispers, close to my ear, and I feel my breath hitch in my throat.

Quietly, we steal outside, the blackened clouds spilling rain that immediately soaks through my shirt, making me shiver as I repeat my mantra in my head- “We're just a group of demons. Coming to check out the camp and the prisoners. Bronwen told us they do that sometimes. We're just a group of demons…”

“One of the weapon sheds is just ahead,” Angel says low. “It's guarded- by two vampires. They need me to go and do a quick sweep of the camp- and get some prisoners. I'm sending Spike with you, ok?”

Parts of me want to cling to him like the girl I am inside- the girl who doesn't want to let her boyfriend out of her sight. But the other parts of me- the Slayer, the woman, the warrior- they know he has to go. I burrow for one slight second into his neck, kissing him in the hollow where his pulse never beats. “All right. But you come back. I need you to watch my back, Angel.”

He smiles, ever so quickly. A flash of teeth and lips and beauty and he touches my hair, slides his hands through the strands. “Be careful, Buffy.”

“You know me,” I grin and his face loses all humour.

“I do. Be careful. I mean that.”

Almost desperately he draws me close and our lips lock and burn. My belly melts into hot syrup and I moan softly, as he lets me go, brushing my swollen bottom lip with his thumb.

He doesn't say any more, and I don't watch him leave. In the shadows of the building beside the shed full of weapons, I eye Spike, who leans against the wall. Dirt clogs the soles of my boots and I ignore the sudden stillness of the cold air, making sure I have my stake where I like it- in my sock. My nose is red and my shirt sodden, clinging to the fullness of my breasts, which still feel uncomfortably heavy.

“Bloody Hell, you reek of sex,” Spike growls, and I shake my head derisively.

“Shut up, we have to figure out what we're going to do. Which vamp do you want to take? It has to be quiet- we don't want to sound the alarm.”

It's as if I hadn't spoken. He lights a cigarette in typical Spike fashion and looks me up and down, sucking the smoke straight into his lungs. “And I must say, Slayer, you have that particular fucked out look that I haven't seen on you since- well, ever. Should have known my Sire would be the only one who could give you any satisfaction.”

I can feel myself flushing. “Spike, can we please discuss this later? So I can properly kick your ass? Right now we need to concentrate. Vampires. Weapons shed. This ringing any bells, Einstein?”

He shoots me a wry glance, but I can sense the rage emanating from every inch of his being. He smiles, slowly, and reaches out with one hand. His finger comes within an inch of my nipple, before I grab his hand and whirl him around, pressing his chest into the wall with my body.

He sort of chokes, sort of laughs, and sort of groans. “Oh, hurt me a little more, Slayer.”

“SHUT UP,” I hiss, arcing his arm around his back more, hearing his bones creaking. I hope this hurts. “I realize your pathetic little obsession with me is getting hard to handle, and that's fine, Spike. I don't expect anything more than immaturity from you, anyway. But now is NOT the time. Nor is it the place. We have demons. To kill. And unless you want to be dust at the pointy end of my stake, I suggest you shut the fuck up, got it?”

He whips around so fast that I barely have time to think, let alone stop him. His hands grip my arms and he pushes me into the wall, so my head knocks against the brick. My nose scrapes against the grittiness of the wall, and I feel Spike- throbbing, hard and full against my lower back as he murmurs in my ear, “Oh, I got that, blondie. I always got it. I just have to shut up and do my little duty for you and the Scoobies. And you expected me to. Cause you knew I wanted you. You knew I wanted you in my bed, under me, around me- until you smelled like me and I smelled like you… didn't you, Slayer?” I whimper and struggle, but he has me so tight, I'm losing circulation in my arms. “I'll play your game for now. I'll let you snog my Sire, hold his bloody hand, sleep in his bed. But you know what? I'm not gonna be the whipping boy for much longer.”

“And what are you going to do, Spike?” I ask breathlessly, my chest squeezing with the effort to draw air into my lungs. “Cause I love Angel and I always will. NOTHING you could do or say could ever change that.”

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles. “I've got a little secret for you, pet.” His hips grind against mine, and I tremble. “Your Angel? Hasn't been a good little boy since your breakup. He fucked Darla while you were still alive and well down in Sunnydale. How does that make you feel? Still love him with all your heart and soul and sweet Slayer cunt?”

My teeth bar with rage as I snap his arms away, facing him and hitting him straight in the jaw with my fist as hard as I can. I hear the bone crack and walk past his sprawled body. Stepping over his leg, I give it a kick and lean down. “Come on, pet,” I mock. “We have to take out these vampires.”

~~~

The fight is a blur. Kick. Punch. Twirl. Flip. Somersault. My muscles bunch and flex and bend and bow, and I think I've gotten even stronger since I came back- as if death has driven new powerful blood into my system. I dust the two vampires with minimal fuss, their remains splattering my face with grey matter that I blow away with impatient breath, picking up the silver spill of keys that they dropped in their haste to fight me. I can feel Spike behind me- muttering angrily, but I ignore him. Inserting the key in the lock, I open the door and step inside the shed, which is large and smells of guns and wood.

Smoothing my hands carefully over the steel, I stuff a few swords in my bag, toss a box packed full of twenty guns along with it, and pile knives and more small swords and pickaxes into my arms and bag. Spike works quietly, following my lead.

Once we've collected all we can, we exit the building and the truck pulls up almost immediately. Jumping inside, I look around and then ask, “Where's Angel? He should have been back by now.”

Far back in the shadows, I suddenly recognize Darla, covered by a huge jacket and what looks like a handkerchief over her the cool blonde of her hair. “Don't worry, Buffy,” she says. “He'll be fine. I'm sure he's just taking the next truck.”

“This isn't a bus service, Darla,” I snap. “One doesn't come along every twenty minutes. We're going back for him.”

“No, we're not,” she answers. “He will be fine. We came with two trucks. He'll take the other one, and he'll get back almost right after us. Trust me.”

I snort. “Right, I'll trust you. Cause I'm just that stupid. I want to go back. I don't care what you say. He would have taken the same truck as us.” I pause, a cold chill tickling down my spine. I touch my lips, still swollen from his bruising kiss. “As me. I know something's wrong.”

She laughs softly. “Such a child. Are you trying to speak of a mythic connection between the two of you? Are you expecting me to believe you'd know that something was wrong and I wouldn't? We share blood, honey. I know Angelus better than you ever will.”

“I doubt that very much, Darla,” I chirp sweetly. “After all, I don't think it was you he spent last night with.”

Spike chuckles and his elder shoots him a glare. She tilts her head, staring at me. “He did spend a night in my bed though, Buffy. Quite a few, in fact. Angelus is not as innocent and pure as you think. He has his dark side. We all do. And his dark side prefers me.”

“First of all, Darla?” I sneer. “His name is Angel. Not Angelus. Second of all, I don't care how many nights he spent with you without his soul.” I think for a moment, “or after that, for that matter. It's me he loves. It's me his soul loves. That's all that matters. Lastly, there's something wrong. I can feel it. We have to go back.”

“No way,” she growls. “We can't go back. I am telling you he'll be fine.”

“If anything happens to him,” I warn her coldly, “I'm going to kill you. Soul or not.”

She smiles slowly. “I'm on your side, Buffy. Don't think I'm not. But that doesn't mean I don't still want Angel.”

“Do you think I care about that?” I laugh helplessly. “All I care about right now is that he be kept safe.” Pain crawls through my bones with insidious force. “And I know he's not. Something has definitely happened to him. Trust me, I know.”

“We'll see,” she replies.

Everyone falls silent. Spike keeps brushing his jaw with his palm and then glancing at me worriedly. Darla, so enshrouded by her jacket and other coverings, remains still and unmoving. I stare into the canvas, which smells horrible, and wonder what happened to him, wonder if he's hurt, wonder if my life is going to mean anything after this… wonder why they brought me back… wonder why Spike has to love me, wonder why my muscles feel so full with adrenaline and power.

The hotel is dark when we return. The other truck isn't back. I walk upstairs, ignoring everyone's stares- so full of sadness and regret. I wonder bleakly if I should go up on the widow's walk- as if I'm a wife who's husband hasn't returned from war. If I should go up there and throw myself off into the streets, fly to the stars and join him in oblivion. No, he's NOT dead. I would know...

Dawn's room is hushed. She lies on the bed, asleep, and she looks like my little sister, not like a baby vampire. Her lips and face are free of blood and makeup, and as I curl up next to her, gingerly laying my head on her shoulder, I feel my dry eyes burn with sorrow.

Mommy…

Angel…

Willow…

Giles…

Xander…

“Oh Dawnie,” I whisper, and breathing out, slip into the darkness.

The cemetary is quiet. Quieter than the dead, quieter than the netherworld. A raven sits perched on the branches of a tree, and is cloaked by the moon's stain. I walk like a ghost among the bushes and foliage. My heart beats like a purpled fruit against my chest, and I can almost hear the blood pounding in my ears.

What am I looking for? A vampire? Some other demon? Stalking through the soggy grass, I stop as I see a tall dark figure standing over a lone gravestone under a tree. What is a grave doing out here far from all the others? My fingers itch for a stake, as I glance closely at the person. Swallowing, I realize suddenly that it's Angel.

“Angel,” I whisper. But he doesn't turn. He can't hear me. What am I seeing? His shoulders shake, and I circle around him, the stark outline of the moon casting over his face. Tears rush over his cheeks as he stares. Just stares.

Oh.

God.

It's my grave.

Buffy Summers
1981 – 2001
Beloved sister and friend
She saved the world. A lot.

I'm seeing the past.

He falls to his knees, and his hands grip the dirt of the grave, dropping the bouquet of wildflowers and roses he was holding- and it makes me smile, because it's the perfect mix of flowers- of course- he always knew what I liked, and what I didn't.


“Buffy…” he moans, and his fingers trace the letters of my name. “Oh God… Buffy…”

“Sad, isn't it?”

Whirling, I turn and stare. “Cordy.”

She smiles wryly, and then her gaze shifts back to my fallen lover. “Pathetic, too.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I'm in your dream. Willow has shown us all how to penetrate the dream plane. Pretty cool stuff, actually. Not that *anything* Willow does is cool but—“

“Cordelia,” I break in, exasperated. “What is this? What am I seeing?”

She shrugs sadly. “The past. This is the day Angel found out you were dead. He came here.”

I look down at the weeping vampire again, and feel the tears swell in my own eyes. “Did he take it really hard?”

She nods. “He tried to move on. God knows, I tried to lift the huge weight of psycho grief from his shoulders, but he was completely wrecked after you died. I've never seen him like that before. He's not exactly Mister Shiny Happy Guy anyway, but it was like a 200% increase in the brooding.”

“Why am I dreaming of this?”

Her eyes glare into mine. “Maybe to realize what you did- when you died. You messed up a lot of people.”

“But I was trying to do good,” I protest.

“Every choice has consequences,” she replies vaguely. “Good and bad. I'm not saying you were wrong, Buffy. But you have to realize the past. It always comes back to haunt you. And to help you.”

“I know that,” I lean against the trunk of a tree, and the bark scrapes my back. “But I had to save Dawnie.”

“Maybe you did,” she smiles softly. “And now you have to save everyone else.”

Everything begins to meld together, and I close my eyes, waiting for the fall through the eyes of the raven. They blink at me, and the cool water drips over me as I soar, and scream, the voices of the past jabbing into me with tiny incisions.

(Close your eyes, love…)

Love makes you do the wacky

How's forever?

I did it with a song in my heart

- an ugly death

song

in my heart

I love you. Nothing can change that

Dawnie, I have to

Don't worry. I don't bite

Not even death

You'll be in love till it kills you both

Big love

Big loss

What do you know about Angel?

(Scream. Sleep. Sleep to dream him. Sleep to dream your past)

forever.

Not even if you kill me

I'm just gonna go

Mommy?

The body's cold?

You are. A very short, annoying man

The way I see it, you got burned by Angel

Close your eyes

Is forever good for you?

Nobody has ever known me like you do

(LIAR)

Goodbye

And Riley? I don't like him

This world needs me gone!

(STAY with me. Stay with me and fight the monsters)

I love you so much

Stay with me?

You think you know?

You are… a kindred

That's it. I'm waking up

Bite me

Colourful girl

You couldn't be boring if you tried

(don't leave, please, please, please… it's going to get so quiet… don't let me slip into the nothingness)

Ok, killer, if that's the way you want it

No friends. Just the kill

I shop

I sneeze

Nobody messes with my boyfriend

Really… Interesting, how?

Do you love me?

Think about that when your boyfriend's cutting into you

What?

Hello, lover

Do you?

Love ya too. I'll call ya

I love you.

A dulcet choir of pretty little birdies? C'mon Buffy

I don't know if I trust you

Is it me? Was I—was I not good?

Maybe you shouldn't do either

Dream on, schoolgirl. Your boyfriend's dead

Maybe I'm the one who should decide!

Buffy? What's happening?

(Screamssssssssssssssssss)

You think you know

What

You

Are?

Keep your slayer friends out of our dreams

I love you

Nothing

Can change that

What's to come?

What you are?

Buffy?

You haven't even begun

Buffy?

I don't—I don't remember

Shhhhh…

I feel like I haven't seen you in months

Buffy?

What's happening?

Shhhhh…

Don't worry about it

Shhhhh…

(Let me kill you)

I love you

I love you

Nothing can change that

What you are?

Not even death

You think you know?

What YOU ARE?

Buffy?

Shhhh…

Close your eyes

Hot tears spread over my cheeks as I jerk awake, and Dawn mumbles beside me, shifting in sleep, her arm curling around my belly. Someone knocks at the door. Wiping my face, I call softly, “Come in.”

It's Bronwen. Her eyes are ringed with red, and her hands are shaking as she says, “Hello, Buffy. I'm afraid I have some bad news.”

(Shhhh… )

My throat seizes.

(Buffy? What's happening?)

“What?” I ask, my heart clenching.

“It's Angel,” she replies and pauses. “He's been captured.”

I didn't hear you leave
I wonder how am I still here
And I don't wanna move a thing
It might change my memory
Oh I am what I am, I'll do what I want
But I can't hide
And I won't go, I won't sleep---
I can't breathe,
Until you're resting here with me

“Here With Me” – Dido


My lips feel numb. Outside, snow falls, blowing against the window in angelic white swirls. I stare into the grey sky, drumming my fingers against the glass, and watching the way vampires and other demons duck into shops, holding their coats tight around their bodies.

Angel's out there. Somewhere. Cold and alone. My throat hurts and I swallow stiffly, reaching for the mug of tea Spike brought me a few seconds ago and sipping from the hot, milky mixture. He and Dawn are whispering behind me. After Bronwen told me that Angel was captured, she left to talk to Darla and the rest of the rebel group. They're planning some sort of attack, but I don't really believe they know where he is anymore. Didn't I tell him I needed him to watch my back? Didn't I just kiss his lips? If I concentrate, I can still feel the cool brush of his skin against mine.

“Slayer?”

“What?” I snap.

Spike lays his hand on my shoulder. “I'm taking Dawn to get something to eat. Do you need anything?”

“Only to be left alone for a while,” I answer blankly. “Look after Dawn.”

“I will, pet,” he replies softly.

“Cause if you don't,” I continue, coolly, “I'll turn you into a pile of dust so small I'll be able to blow you away. You got that?”

Turning, I fix him with my eyes but he doesn't flinch, just glances at me bleakly, before taking Dawn's hand. I watch the way my sister cuddles close to him, purring deep down in her throat. “Got it, luv,” he responds, and they leave, closing the door quietly behind them.

Tears burn in my eyes as I crawl over to the bed and curl up on the thick comforter, bunching it with my fists as my mouth opens in a silent sob. If I screamed his name, would he hear me? My belly turns over in a sickening lurch as I imagine life without him again. I've gone without him for so many years. Since I killed him. I've been alone since then. Never have we been able to re-capture that innocence that we had before he woke up one morning with a monster's face.

I remember those months with Angelus- I used to throw up every night. I'd have dreams of Angel, of his fangs and his kiss and his sweet touch. But I knew- no matter how much I dreamed- he would never come back. After I'd drowned the sword in his defenceless chest, I walked home and packed, *knowing* that nothing would ever be the same again. The world was different. The cross that he gave me lay over my heart as I boarded the bus, and I whispered, “I'm sorry,” over and over, as it burned a hole into my flesh.

But now- we're together. Fully. We belong to each other once more, and how can I lose that? How can I after he's made me come alive again? Oh,

God…

I can't do this. My eyes swell and tears slide down my cheeks as I slip gratefully into the oblivion of blackness. Falling, falling into nothing, I sleep.

The mansion is cold. Grey and still. No fire burns in the grate, as it always did when he was in residence and I touch the remnants of the ashes left in there, brushing them between my fingers and gazing thoughtfully at the grey dust.

“I thought you didn't leave anything behind.”

He speaks, softly, “I tried not too.”

“You weren't supposed to leave anything behind,” I repeat, quietly.

His hands graze my shoulders, caressing my forearms from behind. I sense the power unleashed in his grip. “You wouldn't let me leave.”

“I didn't want you to go,” I whimper and turn, my nose bumping against his chest. “But I couldn't hold you here. You could have left, Angel.”

He shakes his head. “It's never forgotten. Nothing is ever forgotten, Slayer.”

“Will you ever forgive me for killing you?”

“Will you ever forgive me for leaving you?”

“But you didn't leave me,” I whisper, and the chill in the air trickles down my spine with icy intent.

His eyes are mournful and silent as he stares down at me and then his lips slide over mine, cool as frost and just as blue. “No, I didn't. But I tried. I wanted to leave you. More than anything.”

His words strike me down to the core. “Did I let you go?”

“No,” he murmurs, his hands holding my face captive. “Your hands are too strong. A killer's hands. But you forgot. You had your sunshine life.”

“It was all a lie,” I mumble, disoriented. My skin is tinged with white, freezing slowly in the twilight of the mansion. “I didn't mean it.”

He kisses me again, hard. “Did you mean this?”

“What?”

“Did you mean our kisses? Did you love me or was it all a lie?”

“No, Angel,” I protest and my fingers creep up his chest, to his neck, his cheeks, trying to grasp some part of him. “I loved you. You know I loved you more than life.”

“More than life?” he mocks and bends me back against the stone of the wall. I feel it's knotty grey brick dig into my back and gasp. “More than who's life? Your own or mine? You killed me, sweetheart.”

“Nooooo…” I groan in abject misery. “I killed myself. It was never you. When you died, so did I. Don't you see, Angel? Don't you see?”

His mouth is on mine again and I pant as we kiss, our bodies parting and meeting in a vicious collide. “See what, Buffy? See your sacrifice? See us both open and bleeding? We've given so much of ourselves for each other… what if there's nothing left?”

“There's always something,” I whisper, my hand over his un-beating heart. “I'll love you until the end, Angel. Until the end of all.”

I taste such pain on his lips. As if his heart is breaking. “What is it? What's happening?”

Tears rush from his eyes and he kisses me once more, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “Shhh. Don't worry about it, love.” He pauses, and then I feel his eyelashes against my cheeks as the point of the sword slices my back.

“Close your eyes…”

Screaming, I jerk awake into the dimness of the hotel room. Rolling over and up, I rub my freezing arms, shaking uncontrollably. No, no, no, no… that didn't just happen. It wasn't a prophecy. It was just a dream. Meaningless. Angel didn't send me that. He loves me. He'd never kill me- never, ever would he do that.

(You killed him)

(You loved him)

(And you killed him)

Standing, I swipe my cheeks with my palms and slip into the bathroom, divesting myself of my clothes and turning on the shower. The hot water sluices over my skin as I lift my mouth hungrily to the spray and feel it drench my tongue with heat. It's so cold out. The snow and the air and the chill are all inside me, and I can't escape it. Everyone's gone, and my Mom's in the ground, and Dawn craves blood and Angel's out there somewhere- (not with me) and I don't know how to save him. Or how to save myself.

Leaning my forehead against the tiles, slick with condensation, I weep.

~~~

Spike is strangely silent beside me as we walk to the meeting.

“Aren't you going to gloat?” I ask blankly.

He doesn't look at me. “No.”

“Aren't you going to say I deserve this?”

“Deserve what?”

I'm confused for a moment. “That I deserve to lose him. That he deserves to lose me.”

“I hadn't thought about it, actually,” he answers apathetically and I snap, turning on him with all the ferocity of the animal I never wanted to be.

“Oh no? You mean at night when you're lying in your bed jerking off thinking of little old me, you've never wished that Angel would just take a long walk off a short cliff?”

Suddenly his body is against mine, shoved up against the wall, and the breath is torn from my body as his arm slams into my midsection. Coughing, I stare up at him- at his eyes so filled with hot fury. “Do you want to hear about it, Slayer?” he whispers huskily, his lips against my ear. “Cause I could tell you things. About how my cock feels hot under my hand and I wish it was your fingers around me, your mouth riding me, your sweet little muscles squeezing me. About how I wish I could kill my soddin sire for laying his fucking hands on you. About how I had nightmares after you took that long walk off a short tower. Do you wanna hear all that, pet? How I want to fuck you until you scream? About how I'd like to run you through with a very sharp sword- slice you into little pieces and eat them for breakfast?” He pauses and laughs low, and the sound terrifies me down to my roiling belly. “Do you think I *like* that you love him? That he's the one you want beside you, fighting with you, fucking you, making you cry and laugh and bleed and fucking *die* inside when he's not there?”

I try and breathe and find that everything has gone out of me. Gasping, I whisper, “What do you want from me, Spike? I don't know what to tell you.”

“And I don't know what in the hell you want from me,” he replies harshly. “Someone to fight with? To work off all that energy that builds up when you don't get your cunt filled with my sire's cock? Fine, Slayer, if that's what you want- just as for it, for chrissakes.”

“That's not what I want,” I say, not completely sure if I'm lying. I could be. My head aches and I bite my lower lip between sharp teeth, drawing a bead of blood. It fills my mouth with salt and I whimper under Spike's continued punishing grip. Bruises are already forming on the lower part of my arms. Purplish red, they swell angrily under his fingers and I murmur, “I just want to forget.”

“No way, Slayer,” he laughs angrily. “I'm not Captain Cardboard.”

“What?” I ask, at a loss.

He fixes me with a pointed glare. “Do ya think I'm gonna be a stand in like sodding Riley?” he spits the name with loathing. “No fucking way. If we ever fuck, Slayer, it's gonna be cause you want me, not cause you want to forget the great poufter.”

I bow my head, wheezing a little. “It's never going to happen, then.”

He grins sadly, and it scares me. “I know. I always knew that, pet. It was you that didn't.”

“Should I feel bad for hurting you?” I wonder bleakly. “You turned my sister.”

“Never pity me,” he growls, and lets go of me so suddenly that I stumble, the abused flesh of my forearms throbbing. “Don't you dare pity me, Slayer.”

“I don't, Spike,” I respond. “Sometimes I think it's me I should feel sorry for. What kind of sick person lusts after vampires? What kind of person uses a guy just because they want to forget their old boyfriend? I think I'm the one that's messed up. At least you have a clear-cut view of life. Evil.”

“Jesus,” he sighs, running a hand through his tousled platinum hair. “Is this the Buffy pity party? Forgive and forget, Slayer. So you've had a tough life. Move on, get on with it. There's people to save- isn't that your motto? Nothing's gonna get done if you sit in your room feeling sorry for yourself.”

“You know what Spike, I don't think you of all people should be lecturing me,” I snarl, the lights of the lit candles in sconces on the walls playing across our faces with deceptive gentleness. “Like I said- you're evil. That's not exactly admirable.”

“Neither is burying your head in the sand,” he retorts. “You want to forget? Fine. But did it work for you before? You ended up six feet under and everyone you love got captured- maybe killed. I think you do need to hear a little common sense.”

“This is why I hate you,” I bite off, my throat stinging with tears.

“Hate me all you want,” he says with sinuous grace and moves towards me, rubbing the swollen bruises on my arms with his thumbs. He smiles archly; “I think I love you enough for both of us.”

“Shut up Spike,” I sneer and back away from him. “Unless you want me to make you little specks of dust in the wind.”

“You've had your chance millions of times,” he points out with devastating logic that makes me see red. “What's stopping you, pet?”

“I don't know,” I scowl and tilt my head to the side. “Maybe because you're just a harmless little puppy who can't bite anymore?”

A glint enters his eyes that I've never seen before. “Want me to tell you a secret, pet?” He gets close and I feel his breath, hot and sticky with a coppery smell against my neck.

“I got that chip removed years ago.”

~~~

The meeting room is crowded. Every member of the rebellion is present. Bronwen and Darla sit at the head of the table. Angel's chair is empty. Without being asked, I sit down in it, ignoring the looks of shock.

My mind is still whirling from the implications of Spike's confession. I suppose I should have guessed though. But then why hasn't he killed me? He's had so many chances- so many times I've been helpless at his feet. I don't know why. Can he really love me as much as he says he does? God, it's such a bad situation. I smile a little at the understatement.

Settling back into Angel's chair, I smell him still on the material and breathe in, letting his essence seep over me like a blanket.

Bronwen stands, her mouth tight. She nods to me and the rest. “Hello to you all. As you know, our esteemed leader- Angel- has been captured by the demons. His partner Darla and I will be taking over leadership in his hopefully short absence.”

I don't look at Darla. Right now, she's beneath my notice. I speak, and everyone glances at me, “Do you know where Angel is?”

Bronwen pauses for a moment and then replies, “Yes, we do. One of our scouts in the camps has located him. They transferred him to Ireland. There's a large camp in the mountains there which is their biggest and hardest to get to. Very remote- very inaccessible without proper trucks, which thank the Goddess we have.”

I break in to ask the only question that matters to me, “Is he all right?”

She pauses again. “As right as can be expected, I suppose. He took quite a beating, though. But he's not dead, Ms. Summers.”

“Call me Buffy,” I reply dismissively. “Is he badly hurt? How soon can we get to him? What kind of resources to we have? And how can we do it? I mean, isn't it a huge camp?”

“My goodness, so many questions,” Bronwen laughs, looking a little annoyed.

“But that's Buffy, Bronwen,” Darla says seriously. “Tenacious till the end. I wouldn't underestimate her if I were you. If anyone can save Angel, it's the Slayer.”

“I'll save him,” I confirm resolutely and stand. “But I'll need help and weapons. How soon can we travel to Ireland, Bronwen? I want to go ASAP- yesterday would have been better.”

She nods. “Of course. We'll leave in a few hours. We've anticipated this and have already had people getting the trucks with weapons and supplies ready.” She stops and looks straight into my eyes. “I care about him too, Buffy. I promise you we're putting all we have into this.”

“Make sure you do,” I respond. “And thank you.”

She nods again and walks from the room, presumably to get her things together. Darla follows her, but I ignore her movements from the room. No matter what she says, we will always be enemies. She kept me from going back to him, and that's unforgivable in my book.

A man approaches me. I've never seen him before, but he shakes my hand. His touch is warm and his eyes kind, assessing. “Ms. Summers? Allow me to introduce myself- I am Arion Prentiss. I'm—I study Slayers and Celtic history.”

“Oh…” it's a little disconcerting to talk to someone who's business is studying you. But I smile and say distractedly, “What can I do for you?”

He looks at me, deeply and then asks, “Have you been dreaming of anything strange lately?”

It startles me and I answer, “What? Why do you ask that?”

“I think we should talk soon,” he replies vaguely. “About the Morrigan and the raven.”

“The raven?” I whisper. “How do you know? What's the Morrigan?”

“It's too complicated to get into now,” he says kindly. “While we're in Ireland, we'll talk, and maybe we can sort a few things out about what you're supposed to do here. About how you're going to save everyone. I cannot promise you any straight answers- but I can promise you a look into your origins, Ms. Summers.”

He shakes my hand once more and leaves. I stare after him, shaken down to my rattling bones. A chill sweeps over me as if someone has walked over my grave and they are not treading lightly.

Spike touches my lower back. “Get back to your room, Slayer. You need your rest for tonight. It's a long trip. I'll take care of the packing.”

I look up at him with blurring eyes. “Spike, what if we can't save him?”

Something akin to a wrenching torment seems to pass over his eyes and he presses a chaste and dry kiss to my forehead. “We'll go on, pet. We always do. Come on, I'll walk you to your room.”

He puts me to bed, taking off my clothes and easing me under the warm covers which have obviously haven't been washed since Angel and I made love between them. I can still smell us, and I roll over, breathing in as I fall into the raven's eyes, it's feathers enveloping me in a bowl of black.

I'm in my old room. Tears spurt from my eyes as I cross to the bed, running my hands over the old white comforter. Mr. Gordo sits on the pillows, just as I left him. Over by the window, the curtains blow, revealing a starry, starry night outside. But I know there is nothing outside. This is a dreamworld and it's my room. If I leave by the door, my Mom won't be singing merrily as she folds laundry and Dawnie won't be lying on her bed, writing in her journal.

That world has been cast away.

What can I do with this new one?

“A lot, if you're careful.”

“Angel!” I cry, rushing into the arms of my lover, who has come from the shadows of the window, dressed in a duster and black jeans and sweater- like always. He is beautiful and kisses me desperately. “Where are you? How are you? How am I going to save you? How are you doing this?”

“In Ireland, I'm beaten up but fine, you'll find a way and you don't live a couple hundred years and not learn a few things.”

“Sorry, I'm being question-girl,” I kiss him again and draw him over to my bed. He sits down and pulls me onto his lap. Livid welts and wounds cover his face and I shake with anger, murmuring, “I'm going to kill them. Every last one of them.”

“I'll join you,” he says wryly, and cradles me against his chest. “But right now I just want to hold you.”

I sigh tenderly, “I think that can be arranged.”

We sit in silence for long moments, as he drops tiny kisses on my hair and forehead, until I break it as a thought occurs to me. “You didn't come into my dream earlier today, did you?”

He shakes his head. “No. That must have been just ordinary, regular dreaming. Why? What happened?”

I see death coming for me, wearing the visage of my love and carrying a wickedly sharp sword. Shivering, I curl closer to him. “Nothing. Angel… I miss you. I'm scared.”

“I love you,” he answers, and we lie back in the warmth of my old room, where we used to find such innocent kisses and embraces. Where he told me he'd bring me to a skating rink and I told him not to read my diary and he made me weak in the knees. I hold his head to my breasts and weep, bitter, scalding tears as I close my eyes once and sleep within the dream.

(How much do you want to live tonight?)

Stay with me?

Close your eyes

The blood cry, penetrating wound---

The slayer does not walk in this world

Ok, Killer

How am I supposed to go on with my life?

- I've loved exactly one person

Do you love me?

Big love, big loss

Who can take you into the light

I wanted to feel what you felt with Angel

Who can make love to you

I'll never forget

(But you did. You forgot him. Liar. Traitor. Bitch.)

Goodbye

I'm not gonna say goodbye

Angel! I love you

Was it me? Was I… not good?

Hello, lover

A person doesn't just wake up and stop loving somebody! Love is forever

How's forever?

(Keep on dreaming, darling… it's all a dream)

I know you'll never love me. I know I'm a monster

This universe needs me gone!

What, vampires don't get jealous?

When you kiss me, I wanna die

The body's cold?

NO!

Mommy?

Dawnie, I have to. Listen…

I will always love you

No! It doesn't stop!

We're not supposed to move the body!

Close your eyes

(You're a killer… but so is he. You kill everything around you)

Ok, Killer

You're on your own

What about me? I love you so much

You got burned by Angel

You shut down

Oz is gone

When it comes to Angel, you can't see straight---

- so I told him that I loved him

I love you

- And I kissed him

What's happening?

- And I killed him

Close your eyes

Shhhh

Hello, lover

Was I not good?

Buffy? Buffy?

You think you know?

(Screamssssssssssssssssss)

Buffy?

Shhhh… don't worry about it

He made it through the fight

I'm not gonna say goodbye

I guess maybe he took off after

Are you ok?

(Nothing will ever be ok again)

I'll never forget

You think you know

What you are?

How's forever?

What's to come?

Shhhhh…

Angel?

I'm sorry… I couldn't come sooner

You think you know?

Close your eyes

I love you

Buffy?

Buffy?

Mommy--- the body? NO! My Mom

Dawnie, I love you. I will always love you

Stay with me?

Even if you kill me…

(That's all you'll ever be.)

The action of death

You think you know?

The blood cry

What's to come?

The penetrating wound

What you are?

No friends. Just the kill

You haven't even begun

We are alone.

Buffy?

Shhhhh…

Close your eyes

Cold sweat covers my face as I wake, weeping and trembling.

Spike sits beside me, smoking quietly. Dawn sleeps in the cradle of his lap, mewling softly as she cuddles deeper into his embrace. “Are we leaving?” I ask, my voice alive with strength.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“I'm ready.”

I know you can save me
No one can save me now but you
As long as the planets are turning,
As long as the stars are burning
You'd better believe it, that I would do anything for love

“Anything for Love” – Meatloaf


The trucks are cold, the green canvas sides flapping in the harsh wind. I listen to the creaking of the boxes in the corner, the slap of the tires against the muddy roads, my eyes glazing over. Frigid air bites into my arms even through my thick sweater and I feel the heavy coolness of Spike's leather jacket descend over my shoulders.

“Don't need it, blondie,” he shrugs when I glance at him questioningly. “Not likely I'm gonna catch a chill and croak.”

“A pity,” I mutter, and ignore the sight of my sister mewling slightly as she drinks the thermos full of blood her sire brought for her. Her lips are shiny, candy-apple red and slight skeins of blood drip down over her chin. I suppose I've learned now, to pretend she's not there. It's so much easier, than embracing the loss of the sister I died to save.

To my left sits Darla, who is sleeping. Still. Unmoving. Her skin looks blue, her hair is like fallen frost. I'd hate her if I wasn't so tired. My muscles ache from the bumps in the roads, and my eyes throb in my skull. Everyone else besides Spike and Dawnie and I are fast asleep, their fingers shaking, their eyelashes fluttering, as the snow swirls outside.

“You should sleep, pet,” Spike murmurs low in my ear.

“I can't,” I breathe out and see the tiny wisps of air float away. “Not until we find him.”

“You slept before,” he reminds me.

“That was part of finding him,” I answer obliquely, and shift my legs within the cramped space. The truck holds thirty people, but it seems like hundreds are swimming before my eyes. “I'm not going to rest until I have him with me.”

“Well cue the inspirational music,” Spike mutters, taking the thermos of blood from Dawn and swigging it back into his mouth. He swallows thoughtfully and touches my thigh lightly. “Did it ever occur to you that it might not be a good idea to charge in there when you're half-dead and expect to win?”

“I will win,” I reply firmly, blankly. “And Spike, did it ever occur to you that it might not be a good idea to paw a pissed off Slayer?”

He doesn't remove his hand, just shrugs. “It's occurred to me. I just don't give a fuck.”

I sigh, sudden tears burning in my eyes like fire. Dawn curls up in a ball against Spike's leg, closing her eyes. I know from the deepness of her breathing that she's asleep. Is everyone else able to shut out this world? Because I can't. I don't know how. I don't know what to do. Raking my hands through my hair, I whisper, “I think you do. I think you care about him.”

“I think not, Slayer. You should be resting.”

“I think you care about him,” I repeat and my throat swells with salt.

“I think I care more about you at this point,” he points out, and drapes another blanket closely around my shivering legs, his fingers stroking my hair.

“I don't know what I'm going to do if…” I trail off and think for a moment. “If he dies, Spike—you have to look after Dawn, all right?”

He glances at me. “What in the hell are you babbling about, blondie? You'll still be here.”

I don't say anything. I have visions of a long sharp sword, my heart exploding in a bloody smear and a gravestone. I have visions of the peace and the white sky morning and an approaching dawn. I have visions of an eternal dream with Angel. The fierce tug Spike gives my arm barely registers for a moment.

“Let me tell you something, Slayer,” his voice rushes next to my neck. “Don't you even fucking *think* of killing yourself over him.”

“I suppose I'm just supposed to go on then?” I laugh harshly, and pull away from him.

He growls. “Yeah, maybe you fucking are.”

“With you?” I smile without humour and look at him. “Say it, Spike. You're probably hoping that he'll die just so you can have your little wicked way with me.” I pause and regard him closely. “Well I have two words for you. Dream and On. I will *never* love anyone else. Not you, not anyone—“

“Do you think I want you to love me?” he snarls. “Do you think I could give a flying fuck about your heart? I've never wanted that- never needed that. All I want Slayer- is your cunt, your blood, your screams- all I want, is to feel you under me, around me- all I *want* is to kill you—to be the one who brings that look of peace to your face. And you know what? Stop trusting me. Stop asking me to look after your sister. I turned her into a vampire, luv. Have you forgotten that? Or have you blocked that fact from your brain? I fuck her each and every night and sometimes, I pretend she's you. Do you still want me to look after her?”

“Shut up,” I cry desperately, coldly. My head is whirling sickly as we're jostled again by the thick Irish wind. “I don't want to listen to this.”

“I think you're afraid,” he whispers. “I think you're a little afraid you might start to want it.”

“Want what?”

“Want the peace. Want someone else besides Peaches.”

“I'm not afraid of that,” I snap. “I have wanted other people. I wanted Riley. I wanted Parker. I've even wanted you on occasion, Spike. But my heart? It belongs to him. Ever since the first fight in the alley. So don't even try to scare me. Don't even try to make me doubt it. You can't.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” he sits back and crosses his legs out, over the chests of a few sleeping people. Carefully he stretches. “But I notice you didn't deny wanting that peace, Slayer.”

I feel tears prick my eyes once more and blink furiously. “It's not about the peace, Spike. It's about him. I just want to be with him, again.”

“And then what? Everything'll magically fall into place?” he mocks. “It's not like you two had such a shiny happy life before this mass demon takeover.”

“We'll survive. Together.”

“Of course,” he echoes. “Always together. You two are really fucking rich.”

“What happened to Drusilla?” I ask calmly.

He is silent for a moment, and then says without inflection, “She was lost. Probably killed in the fires in LA.” Cracking his knuckles, he looks down at my sister, who croons deep in her throat, her eyelashes blanketing her paler than milk cheeks.

“I think you and I are a little too alike,” I whisper.

“Why d'you say that?” he murmurs.

“We're both killers,” I say, my head thrumming sickly. “We're both the Bringer. We're both made out of death. Maybe we just have too much in common.”

“Maybe.” He falls silent and I find myself lulled by the motion of the truck into a sleep I don't seek or want. Something pulls me, deeper and deeper and I feel myself falling into the blackness of the raven's eyes.

Waves crashing. Salt breeze on my face. Sun cream slick on my shoulders. Sand between my toes. I take a step and feel warm fingers cover my belly. Leaning back, I croon, “Baby…”

“Hey, love,” he whispers in my ear, his lips touching my neck, near the scar.

“Are you ok?”

“It's cold here- that's why I chose the beach.”

I laugh softly, and turn, bringing him down with me so we can sit on the sand. “I'm coming to get you.”

“I never doubted it,” he says quietly.

“Why do I sense a huge 'but' at the end of that sentence?” I wonder aloud.

He half smiles and bows his head. “If I don't make it—“

“Stop it,” I halt his words. “You're going to make it. We both are. And then we're going to beat the bad guys and have a happily ever after. With picket fences and slayage. You know, normal stuff.”

His fingers brush my cheek and I lean into them, my eyes seeking his.

“You didn't let me finish.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't that sentence going to end badly? It just seemed like it had no where to go but down and—“

He interrupts, “Marry me?”

That stops me. I stare at him, and the only sound for a moment is the keening of a seagull, far in the heavens of this dream. “What? Did you just say—“

“Yes,” he says slowly. “I asked you to marry me. I don't have a ring. I don't have any grand declaration. This is—nothing could prepare me for this moment. I don't even have my heart. Because it's with you. And that's all right. Because I want it to stay with you- forever.” He pauses, and his thumb caresses a tear on my cheek. “What do you think?”

I laugh slightly, my voice choked. “I think yes. I think I've wanted this since I was sixteen. And I think I love you. So much.”

He pulls me onto his lap and the tears rush down my face as we kiss and kiss, desperately. All I can feel is my hot breath, the sweat from the sun, his tongue, our lips and saliva, his sleek skin, the throb of him against my stomach- strong and sure. I burrow closer, my arms in a death grip around his neck. “I love you, love you, love you…” I murmur over and over into his mouth.

Drawing me down, his hands slip off my clothes and he slides inside me, seamlessly, making me gasp. “Angel---“ I pant, arching as his pelvis cleaves into mine, and his thrusts into my dripping center nearly split me in two.

“Buffy… Buffy… please… save me…” he groans against my neck, and my hands grip his back as my cries reach a fever pitch.

“I am going to save you!” I shout to the sky, which turns black as the raven's eyes. Rain swells in the clouds and his eyes go yellow as lemons.

I realize I'm not in our dream anymore. “Or maybe I'll save you,” he smiles slow, and his fangs push from his gums with malicious intent. I scream and it's swallowed by the cracks of thunder.

“Didn't you always want someone who would make the sun go down?”

“Nooo…” I cry as he moves within me, faster and faster and his mouth fastens upon my neck, the blood spurting down his throat making me gurgle with pain- and I feel like I'm burning- soaring- as his sharpness invades my throat and his cock rips me open and lets me fall apart.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers, and then I see no more.

(You can't kill me. You become me)

(Close your eyes) (So I can kill you) (You're not gonna take me alive)

(Not gonna be a problem)

~~~

The thwack of my skull against the side of the truck awakens me. “Shit, shit, shit…” I sob and sit up, ignoring the creak of my hungry bones. Is my lover going to marry me or kill me? What a question. I hate this fucking day. Taking a long sip from the container of water on the other side of Darla, I accidentally elbow her and her eyes open warily.

“Oh, hi Buffy,” she greets me with her customary silky tone.

I don't answer, just sort of grunt a response as I drink, my throat parched. From the hot sun and the cool hands and the marriage proposal. Did he mean it? Was it in my dream? Or was that just a joke? God… please. Help me. How can I live in this world if I know I'm meant to die by Angel's hand? Was that what it always meant- all along? The dream at Christmas? The poisoned dart? I can't do this if I know it's going to end with another death- with another salty kiss and a sword.

“We're going to save him,” Darla says quietly.

“You're not going to,” I reply. “I am.”

She laughs quickly, sharply. “A child till the end.”

“And a bitchy, angry Slayer,” I add. “Don't forget that. You're still a vampire, Darla. And I still have a stake. Don't underestimate me.”

“I'm on your side,” she informs me plainly. “I know you may not believe it—“

“You're right,” I cut her off, taking another deep drink of the water. It slides cool down my throat, into my stomach. “I don't. It doesn't matter anyway. I know what you want.”

“And what is that?”

“Angel,” I say. “You want Angel. It's what you've always wanted. It's what we both want, isn't it? You could say we have that much in common.”

“You could say we have more than that in common. We're both the Bringer, aren't we?” she asks, flashing me back to my earlier conversation with Spike.

“You were listening?”

“Of course I was listening,” she says calmly. “This truck isn't exactly made for comfort, you know. How could anyone sleep in this contraption? I was listening. Didn't like everything I heard.” She stops, and regards me closely. “You want him.”

“I don't.”

“Don't lie to me,” she replies in a terrifyingly sure tone. “I know you do. I also know that you love Angel. Which one is more important to you? Love or want? They're both equally powerful, you know.”

“I love Angel,” I snap. “I always will. I don't love Spike. Yes, I sometimes want him. I'm human. I have eyes. But that doesn't mean that I'm going to throw away what I have with Angel for an evil vampire who turned my sister. Give me credit for half a brain, Darla.”

“Oh, I always knew you were smart,” she snaps back. “How else would you manage to make Angel fall for you? And Spike? But sometimes I think… sometimes I think you have more darkness in you than even we do. And the parts of you- infected with that darkness- want Spike. Even more than they want Angel.”

“That's where you're wrong,” I snarl low- not letting her see how shaken I am at her words. “Because there is no part of me that isn't 100% pro- Angel. So please spare me the theories Darla.”

She leans back and smiles. It's cold, like the winter outside and it sends ice water lacerating through my veins. “Believe what you want, Buffy,” she whispers. “But I see things. I'm your Elder by hundreds of years. There's something inside of you—something not of this world.”

I don't answer. I don't want to answer and I don't want to understand her.

I just want to sleep.

I just want to see my friends again.

I just want to save Angel.

I've never kissed a sweeter mouth
I have never been swept away
It's what dreams are made up of
Don't you know I could not survive
Without you in my life
I would die for you
I would die for you

- Jann Arden


I crawl on trembling knees to the end of the truck, attempting not to disturb sleeping people on either side of me. Snow falls thickly in a white haze outside. Sticking my head out the canvas flap, I catch some on my tongue and feel it slide wetly down my hot tongue. The water in the thermos Bronwen brought is thin and brackish. I need something natural.

Opening my mouth, the snow gathers light as clouds between my teeth, against my lips, and I smile, feeling my nose smart from the cold and my eyelids blink as they are covered in puffs of white. When we'd visit our Grandparents in Minnesota when we were little, Dawnie and I used to make forts and snow angels. I remember our laughter and red noses and the way Mom would gather us up with hot chocolate afterward. My Aunt Laura would read us stories and I'd be trying to elbow Dawn out of the way to see the pictures better.

A cramp somewhere along my breastbone startles me from the memories. My little sister. Tears burn my eyes. She's gone forever. God, I hate this world.

“What in the fuck are you doing, Slayer?” a hiss next to my ear doesn't surprise me.

“Enjoying the weather, Spike,” I snap back. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like you're trying to catch your death of cold,” he mutters, hauling me back inside the moldy canvas with firm fingers.

“You're such a woman,” I grouse, and edge my way back to where Dawn is lying, still asleep. Staring at her for a moment, I sit down and draw her carefully onto my lap, stroking her hair. There. I can pretend she's still Dawnie- not a monster who drinks from Spike's veins. Her hair slips silkily through my fingers.

Spike lowers himself next to me and is silent for a moment. “We'll be there soon, I'd imagine, luv. You ready?”

“Ready as I'll ever be,” I answer calmly.

“You do realize—“ he pauses. “If we can't save him that we'll have to leave and—“

“We're going to save him, Spike,” I reply without any inflection in my tone. “I won't accept any less.”

“You might have to.”

“No,” I say firmly, and breathe out slowly. “Don't even talk to me about that. We're going to save him. We're going to go back to London, and then we're going to come up with a plan to kick their asses. After said plan succeeds, Angel and I are going to live happily ever fucking after, and if I hear ONE more word out of you about giving up I will stake you so fast you won't know what hit you. Ok, Spike?”

He glances at me and murmurs sardonically, “Is that the last big speech I'm gonna have to hear, Slayer?”

“If you're lucky you might get more,” I smirk and suddenly I hear Bronwen's shout from way up front in the driver's seat-

“We're on the outskirts! We'll be stopping at our safehouse here- for any victims we rescue- to get suited up and organize teams and weapons.” I hear her sigh in exasperation. “So WAKE UP!!”

Everyone jerks, groaning as they open their eyes and glare balefully in Bronwen's general direction. I can't blame them. My muscles ache and it's freezing in here, and we've got a long night ahead of us.

(Didn't you always want someone who could make the sun go down?)

I'm coming, Angel… I think, rubbing my throbbing temples. I'm going to save you.

Pressing my face into the canvas sides, I touch Dawn's forehead and smooth the slight lines of worry around her eyes. If there was some way, I'd save both of them.

~~~

The safehouse is large, warm, yet bare. Cots line the walls, and fireplaces are set into every available space. The smell of soot and burning wood fills my nostrils and I breathe in, glancing at all the groups of people sitting, talking, most with dead eyes and yet strangely calm hands. Mine twitch- have ever since I woke up in that gutter.

“Who are these people?” I whisper to Bronwen.

She glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “People who have been saved from the camps here. It's too risky to move them into the City at this point- without the necessary manpower. So they stay here. We're nicely nestled in the hills- and so far the demons don't know of the existence of this place. We have them everywhere, of course.”

“Could—“ I pause. “Could my friends be here?”

She blinks and runs a careful hand through her blue-black hair. “I wouldn't think so, Buffy. As far as we know, your friends- should they still be alive- would be in a camp in Wales. The Welsh demons are a particularly fierce lot, and usually any—any of the Slayer's friends or helpers are taken there.”

“Oh,” I reply, sorry I asked. “Well… I'm going to go get ready.”

“Certainly,” Bronwen touches my back lightly. “Just take the stairs to the upper floors. You'll find a bathtub- a bed, weapons and clothes. Plus, a little food. We'll be leaving in approximately 6 hours. Try and get some rest, Buffy.”

“I will,” I nod and turn back slightly. “And Bronwen?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

~~~

There's a bath waiting for me, and I slip into it up over my head, the hot water enveloping my body in sweet heat. My hair drifts around my face in golden swirls and I think of Angel, wishing I could take him right now – I know he must be cold- I can almost feel it- and hold him and make him warm again. Forever. Lathering myself with soap, I ignore the tears on my face and dunk under the water one last time.

I nibble on the food as I sit on the bed, examining the weapons Bronwen had them leave for me. I'm hoping I won't have to use them much. I just want to get in and get out.

“Knock knock.”

I don't look up. “Spike- you do realize you're hugely annoying, right?”

I can almost hear his smirk. “Don't get those cute little knickers you wear in a knot, Slayer. Just came to see what's the what. Ol' Bronwen won't even go near me- much less fill me in.”

“Why won't Bronwen go near you?” I question, as he strolls around the side of the bed and leans against the wall near the tub.

“I rubbed a bit of dirt off her neck. The bitch thought I was gonna bite her.”

“Why ever would she think that?” I murmur, smoothing my hands over a long, sleek blaster, it's shiny silver flanks entrancing me. “I mean, silly girl. It's not like you're a vampire- oh wait.”

“I'm a reformed vampire,” he smirks and reaches down to swish his hand through the bathwater.

“And I'm just a normal little girl,” I answer witheringly.

“You're certainly little,” he says softly, and I glance up at him, noticing with dread the way his eyes have gone soft and sort of blurry. Shaking my head, I get up and turn away.

“Don't do this, Spike.”

“Don't do what, blondie?”

“Don't make… don't make this confusing.”

“Isn't it already confusing, you stupid chit?” he growls. “Here I am, de-chipped- not even tryin' to kill you. Here you are, shaking like a bloody leaf in that—that *thing* you're wearing. Things between us are already confusing.”

I feel his hands on my upper arms. His chest presses into my back. Slowly, his fingers slide down to my waist, and he exerts a firm pressure on my belly. “Slayer…” he hisses in my ear, and his tongue flicks against my neck.

I don't move for a moment, feeling nothing. Feeling like if I wanted to, I could spin around and maybe get lost for a moment in someone who I don't love- who I just want- and maybe… things could be less loud. Things could be… better- because without Angel, I feel like I'm slowly dying once more and—

His thumbs brush my nipples and I see a flash of Angel behind my eyelids. “Stop it,” I say firmly, jerking away from him. “This isn't…”

“Isn't what?” he asks bitterly. “Real? I could give you—I could give you something Angelus can't, Slayer. I could give you—the peace.”

“I don't want the peace,” I reply coldly. “And if you think I'd be the type to let you fuck me and bite me, then you're even more crazy than I thought.”

He grabs my shoulders and shakes me, bringing me hard against his body. “Why not? You let him, didn't you? Or is that a puppy's bite on your neck, Slayer?”

My fist connects with his nose with a satisfying crunch. Flying back against the wall, he holds the shattered cartilage with his hand and howls, “Bloody hell, you bitch! That hurt!”

“I thought you would enjoy that,” I sneer. “After all- don't vampires love pain?”

“I dunno,” he growls. “Did Angelus used to beg you just to hurt me just a little bit more?”

“All the time,” I haul him towards the door. “I fucked him until his eyes rolled back in his head. But you'll never know what that feels like, Spike. Get. Out.”

Shutting the door in his face, I breathe out, trying to calm down as I draw off my robe and slip between the heavy sheets and blankets, pillowing my head amidst the cushions thrown haphazardly at the head of the bed and closing my eyes.

I blink back the tears and slowly let my mind drift into oblivion.

~~~

I shiver as I climb the steps to Angel Investigations. It looks the same as it did the last time I came- so long ago- for those brief moments of pain. The offices are empty. The elevator down to Angel's apartment is rickety. It makes a whooshing sound as I travel down, down, down, alighting into the dimness.

“Angel?” I call softly. It smells of him in here. But it also… smells of fire and smoke, of soot and ash and fallen dreams. Of crumbled buildings and death and fear. I step cautiously in the shadows and finally see him, standing near the bed, his hand absently touching the covers. They look oddly familiar. I think I would know what they feel like before I even touch them- but that's impossible.

“Angel?”

He doesn't turn. “Hey.”

“Did you pick the location this time?” I ask and he shakes his head.

“You did. This place… is gone to me. I wouldn't have chosen it.”

“Did it burn when they attacked LA?” I inquire quietly.

He shakes his head again. “It burned a long time ago.” Finally he twists around and his fingers close around mine. They are icy and tipped with frost. Squeezing them, I whisper;

“I'm going to come and get you, baby. Can you hold on a little bit longer?”

“As long as it takes,” he smiles slightly, and draws me forward, into his embrace. “You're shaking.”

“So are you,” I murmur, and reach up to clasp his cheeks. “Kiss me?”

His lips taste like anguish and metal, like blood and the night. Desperately, I press closer and feel his mouth slide down my neck, his teeth pulling at my flesh. His hands cup my breasts and I feel the wetness on my inner thighs, little kisses reminding me that I want him- inside.

I pull him down on the bed and he laughs slightly, a little tenderly, a little harshly. “What?” I pant.

“Nothing,” he answers huskily. “Just… memories.”

“Wha—“ he cuts me off with his insistent lips and his fingers under my clothes, pulling them hastily from my flesh. My hands tear at the buttons of his shirt and pants, wrenching them open so I can crush my breasts against the bare skin of his chest. He moans into my mouth, his tongue swirling over my nipples as he hooks his thumbs into my panties and slips them down to my feet. I kick them off and scream as he slams into me with all the force of a thousand suns.

“Angel—“ I gasp, my throat gasping for air as he fills me so full I think I'm going to explode. “Please---“

“Please what?” he groans and shudders, his thighs jerking against mine.

“Please—make me—fall—“

His fangs pierce my neck in the next second and I try to make a sound but nothing comes out. I feel as if my head is expanding, and my insides are swelling, wet, like ripe fruit. Blood seeps past his teeth and down my breasts, dripping thickly through my hair.

Eyes bright as lemon yellow skies gaze into mine. Nuzzling the open wound, he grates, “You killed me first, sweetheart. Now it's your turn.”

“Angel? What's happening?”

His face dissolves into nothingness. “Close your eyes.”

I see no more- it's just another dream.

(You become me)

(What we could've had? What we had?)

(Not even death… ) (You think you know?)

~~~~~

A tapping on the door wakes me. Something drips in my eyes and for a moment I think it's blood, but it's sweat. Ice cold. Rubbing my forehead, I get up, tugging on my robe and pulling open the door warily.

“Oh,” I say. “Hi.”

Arion Prentiss nods to me, motioning with his hand. “Can I come in, Ms. Summers?”

“Sure,” I reply, letting him pass me. He knots his hands together, looking at me as I close the door, crossing my arms against my chest. “What can I do for you?”

“You told me- that you had been having dreams of the raven. Was that true, Ms. Summers?”

I shrug, a chill sweeping down my spine. “I thought they were just dreams.”

“Dreams are never 'just'. Especially not the Slayer's. Your dreams are prophecies. The raven… it represents your origins. The Slayer comes from the Morrigan- do you know who that is?”

“No,” I answer. “It's been about five years since I took any sort of class, whatsoever. I'm kind of rusty on my ancient history, Mr. Prentiss. You'll have to fill me in.”

“Actually, it's more of a mythological figure. The Morrigan is a dark Goddess- her symbol is the raven. The first Slayer- was born not of two human people- but of the blood and feathers of a Morrigan and a raven. Born of the death cry and of the penetrating wound.”

My fingers go to my mouth and I stare at him with wide eyes. “That's what—that's what she said to me.”

“Who?” he inquires.

“The first Slayer. In my dream—I had a dream years ago. All my friends did. The first Slayer was in it—she told me I would always walk alone.”

His eyes are grave as he touches a weapon lying on the bed. “The Slayer does not have to walk alone. But often she is forced to. Everyone she loves, she kills. It is the way of this world. A killer is always a killer. Most are too fragile for her. Except for one. He is the only one strong enough to fight with her- not against her or below her.”

My whole body is shaking. “You mean Angel.”

He looks at me. “What do you think?”

“I think you should leave. I can't—I don't have time for this right now.”

Arion glances at me seriously. “You can't run away from destiny forever.”

“But you can run away from conversations you're too tired for,” I smile wearily. “I realize that you're trying to help—but I have to save my boyfriend right now. I don't have time for origins or destiny or dreams. Can we talk some other time?”

He nods. His eyes are intensely black. They make me slightly dizzy- but I think that might be because he knows so much about me. So much I'm not even sure of.

“Of course. Good luck… today.”

“Thanks. But I don't need it. Never have.”

He smiles. “I've heard that about you.”

~~~

Spike walks beside me as we travel through the underground tunnels the Rebels have forged over the years. It's cold, damp and muddy down here. The smell of leather and moss reaches my nose as the vampire beside me takes my arm to lead me down another path. I can barely see. It's too dark.

Bronwen carries a small lantern, but she says too much light is a risk so it's just a watery cast over our shadows- not anything substantial to see by.

I think we walk for miles before we finally reach the carved opening in the earth, which Bronwen told me comes out of a hill, right above the camp.

“Ok. We'll follow you,” she whispers to me.

I nod. Spike moves to come with me, but I stop him. “I'm going alone.”

“Don't be stupid,” he mutters furiously, but I lay a hand on his arm.

“Spike. I'm going alone. Accept that. We'll all be a lot happier if you do.”

He scowls. “I'm following you. At a safe distance.”

“Fine,” I say with a shake of my head. “I'll see you all when I've got him.”

Not looking back, I walk out into the night.

Would you die, for the one you love
Hold me in your arms, tonight
I can be your hero, baby
I can kiss away the pain
I will stand by you, forever
You can take my breath away

“Hero” Enrique Iglesias


The night air is cold and wintry on my skin. Up in the sky I can see the clouds black and blue, swollen with snow. The tunnel came right into the camp. I walk silently, measuring my steps carefully. Every so often I see a demon patrolling, but I am quick to duck out of sight and keep to the shadows. The oxygen is thick, but I can smell Angel faintly- and his presence thrums beneath the surface of my flesh, getting stronger as I get closer.

Standing against one of the buildings, I scan the grounds, looking for the building where Bronwen said was. She mentioned a red flag. I don't see it, so I do a quick weapons check, making sure I have the requisite stake tucked into my black boot, the blaster strapped to my back and the knife inside my belt.

Suddenly I feel a hand on my back. I breathe out in a frustrated rush. “Spike, didn't I tell you not to follow me?”

He sighs. “What was I supposed to do? Let you take the hero road to your death again? No, thanks blondie.”

“I am handling this,” I snarl, turning and facing him. His platinum hair glints in the faint starlight, which peeks out from behind the clouds. “I don't need you here. I don't want you here. Got that?”

“I'm tryin' to help, Slayer,” he drawls. “You got *that*?”

“I really don't have to get anything,” I remind him. “I'm the boss around here, remember?”

“Who died and made you God?” he asks casually.

“No one made me God. But someone made me the Slayer. I give the orders.” I grip his arm with my fierce strength and whisper, “So, get. Gone. I'm busy- and I don't want to have to worry about you getting dusted.”

“Why would ya worry?” he growls, leaning close so his mouth is against my ear. “It's just Spike, honey. You don't care about him.”

A wave of fury sweeps over me. Pushing him against the wall, I say, “You're right. I don't. Get staked. What in the fuck do I care?”

“I think you care just a little, come to think of it,” he laughs low. His fingers touch my forehead, where a few wayward curls of hair have come loose from the tight ponytail I keep it in. Panting slightly, I flinch away from his caress and look into his eyes. They are diamond bright with desire. His pupils dilate as he creeps closer and when his lips are a hairbreadth from mine, he tugs me between his legs. “Want me… Slayer?”

I feel him, hard against my lower belly and the heat building in my chest flushes my cheeks. I don't speak for a moment. All I can do is try and breathe. “Maybe,” I say quietly, and his mouth curves as it crushes mine. He smiles as he kisses me. Laughs, a little. Blood seeps past my tongue and down my throat from where his teeth pierce the delicate skin of my lips. I choke on the copper and the smell of sweat and sex. Breaking away from Spike as fast as he caught me, I whisper, “Maybe. But I love Angel.” My arms break his hold as I step away and wipe my lips. “I love Angel. And I have to find him. I'm going alone. If you really want to help, you'll patrol around the entrance to the cave, making sure no one can bar our escape.”

He looks at me for a moment, not saying a word, and then nods. “Fine. I'll see you on your way out.”

I wipe the blood of my lips again and nod. “Okay.” Edging along the side of the building, I scan the tops, looking for the flag. Suddenly I see it. A crimson splash against the white, white snow. Outside the door are two vampiric guards, chatting with each other. I hear their voices clearly in the otherwise silent night.

I pull out my stake, holding it behind my back as I walk the short distance to where they stand, in front of the door.

“Ooh a party- is this for me?” I chirp and they whirl, gaping at me with open mouths. “Cause really guys,” I continue, “you shouldn't have.”

I notice the huge walkie-talkies at their waists and realize I have to act fast. Striding towards them, with two kicks I have busted both machines. The fight begins. They're fast, I'll give them that. But I'm faster. Right hook. Punch to the gut. Somersault. Back flip. Left hook to the jaw. I smash their heads together and they fall to my feet as I whip out the stake and slam it through both their hearts (the penetrating wound…). Picking up the spill of keys left on the wintry earth, I look around to make sure no one has seen the fight and open the door.

I step into a room that's dark. It smells of cold, of damp. Musty earth. My eyes quickly adjust to the blackness and I realize I'm walking down a long hallway with cells lining each side. At the very end of the building a small window offers a breath of moonlight. Most cells are empty, but in some I can see pacing demons, some growling, others weak from obvious lack of food. Dirt crawls up the walls, there's no heat- in short, it's Hell, with walls, floor and a ceiling.

I realize this is where they keep their traitors. It's like Hitler and his meat hooks. Swallowing back the bile that creeps up my throat, I peer into the cells, walking faster and faster when I don't see him. Did I get the wrong one? Did Bronwen mistakenly tell me---

That's when I see him. Angel. Sitting in one corner, head in his hands, knees to chest. His cell is grey, small, barren. I comprehend him, fully in that moment and can barely even understand the overwhelming urge I have to fall to my knees and thank God he's alive.

“Angel?” My voice sounds far away, even to my own ears.

He looks up, slowly. So slowly. Our eyes lock, green with brown and I give a great, gasping sob, my hands clutching the bars of the cell as he rushes forward, sliding his arms through the gaps, as best he can and holding me. The steel presses into my stomach and chest but I don't care. I don't care. He's here and he's alive – well, sort of- and that's all that matters in the world.

“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy,” he whispers as I step up onto the lower rail and our lips meet in a desperate kiss. “I didn't think you were real for a moment.”

“I told you I'd come for you, you idiot,” I murmur, laughing, trying to kiss him more and ending up knocking my lips and chin against the bars.

He smiles slightly, his hands gripping my back tightly. “I thought it was just another dream.”

“I would never choose this locale, baby.”

His nose nuzzles mine and he reaches through to rub my already bruised lip. “I should have known better…” he pauses and then says, “So what are we doing? Someone has a plan, I assume?”

“Of course,” I reply airily, over the moon to have him back where he belongs, in my arms. “I find some way to break you out, we skip merrily off to the tunnel, walk back to the safe house and spend the entire night in bed. And maybe all of tomorrow too.”

He arches a brow. “So you've heard of vampire stamina?”

I giggle. “I know about it, yes.”

He smiles, kissing me again. “Well, you will soon, I promise. But first… I don't know how we're going to do this.”

“I'll just…” I pause, testing the bars, “try and stretch them. I'm sure I can—“

“They're protected,” he cuts me off. “By charms- against breakage. I don't know the spell to reverse it.”

“Damnit,” I mutter. “Where's Harry when you need him?”

“Who?” he questions.

“Oh- a wizard I know. Well… I know *of* him. Giles met him and his own brand of the Scoobies in England.”

“You mean Harry Potter?” Angel inquires incredulously and I nod.

“Yeah, so?”

“Nothing. Just- you know, he's famous. The Boy Who Lived and all that. I heard he's married to one of his Hogwarts classmates, isn't he? She's supposed to be very intelligent--”

“Yeah,” I reply, still trying to bend the bars. “Hermione. I saw their wedding picture. Very sweet. He seems just like a regular guy—oh wait! Keys! I have the guard's keys…”

Angel sighs, exasperated. “And you didn't remember that before?”

I shoot him a withering glance. “In between dusting two demons, saving your ass and having a mushy reunion, it slipped my mind.”

He chuckles. “Sorry. Did you get it?”

I slip the correct key in the lock, hearing the click. The cell door opens and Angel gathers me up in his embrace. I snuggle for a quick moment against his chest, burying my face in his neck. “I missed you,” I whisper, tears swelling in my eyes.

He strokes my hair. “I love you.”

“We should get out of here.”

“No arguments here,” he agrees, tipping my chin up and kissing me softly, his finger running down my face tenderly before he releases me.

Taking my hand, we run together down the long hallway, keeping as quiet as possible. He stumbles a little, and suddenly I notice how pale he is. “You're weak,” I murmur under my breath, furious at myself for not seeing it before.

“I haven't had much to eat since I got here,” he reminds me, and trips again. I hold his arm, whispering;

“We'll be fine. Spike's guarding the entrance to the tunnel. If he didn't screw up, all we need to do is get there and we're home free.”

I open the door, step outside and gawk. Twenty vampires stand in a half-moon around the door. None of them look happy.

“Oh, shit,” Angel mutters.

“My expletive exactly,” I say. “Just… please stay out of this. You're in no condition to fight.”

“I'm *not* letting you go alone,” he growls, and I see that he's in full gameface.

“All right then,” I sigh. “Let the really annoying and familiar games begin.”

Fists cocked, we step into the fray. Vampires come at me from all sides. My head hurts. A gash above my eye bleeds into my vision. Sweat drips from my skin, staining my clothes. Fangs, everywhere. My heart pumps fast. Backflip, punch, right hook, stake. Dust against my teeth, in my mouth. I choke, whirling on another and using the stake. Lop. Off comes another's head. God, my ribs are aching. Kick. Where's Angel? There he is, safe. Good. Dust. Blood sprays across my face. Was that a human? Don't know, can't care. Hair in my eyes. Red moon. So much snow. Punch, kick, flip, dust. Is it almost over? My arms throb. More dust. Must be the last one. I whirl, ready to stake and—

Angel grabs me, sagging into my arms. “It's over,” he murmurs against my sweat-soaked hair, dropping a weary kiss onto my head. “We should get moving.”

Exhausted, I limp with him across the camp, keeping close to the shadows, knowing that the vampires thought they'd be able to take care of us, but that, just in case, there will be special demons coming. The kind that probably wouldn't fail. Angel's non-necessary breathing is laboured, and his face is so milky that if it wasn't for his dark hair and clothes, he'd melt into the landscape.

I see Spike, who motions us forward with a cigarette dangling from between his lips. “You had time to *smoke*?” I hiss. “You were *supposed* to be watching for demons!”

He shoots me a glare as he ushers us into the tunnel. “I *was* watching, blondie. But I got a mite peckish, is all.”

“Oh for crying out loud,” I mutter, looping my arm around Angel's waist, helping him along.

He glances at both of us warily. “I think you two have been spending too much time together.”

“You have no idea,” I say, looking up at him. “How soon do you want to head back to London, baby?”


His brow furrows for a moment. “I guess tomorrow. I need some time to rest, and I'm sure so does everyone else. Do you know what Darla and Bronwen want to do?”

“No,” I snap, hearing the name Darla sending a little wave of anger through my chest, and up into my throat. I breathe out, seeing the little puffs my breath makes in the freezing air. “But I'll be sure to ask them.”

“You sound rather bitchy for a girl who's been reunited with her long lost love, Slayer,” Spike drawls. “Was it something I said?”

“Quiet,” Angel snarls, turning on him. “If you know what's good for you, boy, you won't speak to her in that tone of voice.”

“Heaven Forbid I should talk to, or even fuck your sweet little Buffy,” Spike murmurs and Angel whirls around so fast he almost knocks me over. His fist grips Spike's collar in a lightening fast movement.

“*What* did you say?”

Spike just looks at him. “What did I say? Well, I can't remember now.”

“Don't fuck with me, Spike,” Angel growls.

“Right, not anymore. You're all 'man with a soul and a path to redemption and—“

“Spike,” I break in. “Angel. Must I treat you both for testosterone poisoning?” I wince as I remember another time when I uttered words close to those. “Demons could be behind us. One more word and I put you both in the hospital.”

They both look at me, surprised, and then both shrug, following me down the tunnel, to where Bronwen and the rest wait at the fork. Darla takes one look at Angel and hurls herself into his arms. Bronwen smiles, rather sedately, but I saw the fear in her eyes and know she cares more than she lets on. Everyone claps and cheers a little and I stare at Darla and Angel in astonishment, the burning jealousy behind my eyes threatening to explode.

I tug on his arm and mutter, “Still *my* boyfriend, Darla.”

She laughs softly and keeps a hold of him. “Still *his* sire, Buffy.”

Angel looks down at us and then mutters, “Still *my* arm, ladies.”

I don't let go, but I do smile up at him and murmur, “It might be yours, but you're also mine- so I you don't mind if I hang on for a little while?”

“Don't mind at all,” he answers, leaning down to kiss my lips gently.

~~~

When we get back to my room at the safe house, I close the door, immediately filling the tub with hot water and adding some rose oil that someone obviously left for us. Steam wafts in the air, and I slide out of my clothes, bending over to test the water's heat.

The door opens and I smile.

“I like the way you welcome me back,” he says softly, and I turn, walking over to him and watching his eyes go dark with desire.

“Nicer things are to come,” I wink, and pull up his shirt, tossing it on the bed. I quickly kneel to undo his pants and let them fall around his ankles, along with his boxers. He tugs off his boots and socks, letting me lead him over to the bath.

I step in, sitting down. He gets in after me, his head resting against my breasts. I thank God it's a huge tub, as I'm reminded again of how tall he is. My hands slosh the water over his chest, kissing the top of his head at intervals.

“Mmm…” he murmurs. “It's so nice and hot.”

“I know you love that,” I whisper tenderly, and reach for the soap, lathering his hair and skin, and pouring cups of the scented water over his head and body to cleanse it fully. Smoothing my palms over his flat, hard belly, I giggle slightly, flushing. “Maybe you're getting a little too excited.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks huskily.

“No-o—“ I answer shakily, and he sits up, getting out and sliding his hands under my arms to lift me out.

Dripping with water, we kiss desperately, falling back on the bed in our desire to be close to each other. His chest crushes my breasts as he presses himself against me, grinding his pelvis against mine. I groan, my head falling back as his mouth burns a fiery path down my throat, ending up at my nipples.

“You smell like roses…” he moans into my flesh, his tongue as smooth as butter on my breasts.

“I want to smell like you,” I whimper, panting as his fingers grip my legs, spreading them wide apart. “I want you… inside me…”


His mouth gasps wide as he slams into my wet center, the thick heat of him filling me to the fullest and making me scream. He surges against me, angling down, going deeper and deeper as I rake his back with my nails, his name- “Angel, Angel, Angelllllll…” tearing out from between my lips again and again.

All I see is the white ceiling blurring as he kisses me, his mouth drowning over mine. I feel the flood of him in my womb as it contracts around him in convulsive shudders.

“Ahhhh… Buffy….” He chokes out, and I touch his lips with my fingers, watching his mouth close over them as he sucks ravenously, thrusting one final time deep inside me.

He collapses next to me, drenched in sweat and smiling ever so slightly. “Marry me?” he asks quietly.

I open my eyes, gaping at him. “What?”

“I realize it's not the most romantic place to ask but—“

“You already asked me,” I remind him.

“I wanted to—dreams are so transient. I wanted to make it official. Will you marry me, Buffy? When we get out of this?”

I look at him, grinning and shaking my head, tears mingling with the sweat on my face. Curling myself under the comforting weight of his arm, I smile and kiss his mouth. “Of course I will, you dolt. Am I going to say no to that?”

“Men never know what women will say,” he informs me, laughing and holding me close. “I don't have an engagement ring.”

“Doesn't matter,” I murmur drowsily, already on the edge of sleep. “We'll get through this and soon there'll be malls again.”

“Yes, that will be the high point,” he teases, his eyes closing as well.

We sleep, and for that night at least- there are no dreams.

But I know- the biggest battles are yet to come.

Go ahead, hurt me like that
I'm not afraid to sweat, cause I like the pain
And it's familiar to me
And more gentle, than most men will ever be
But don't get me wrong
I don't wanna be friends…

“Nicotine Love” – Jewel


The stairs are steep down to the main room of the safe house and my legs ache as I step, feeling sore and full and wonderful and all the things a girl feels when she's been made love to by her boyfriend all night. I lick my lips and taste him- remembering how I drank the sweet saltiness and made him groan. Remembering how he surged inside me and almost made me break. How he whispered my name as his tongue dragged around my nipples. How I didn't dream. For once.

A small Christmas tree is set up by the fire where clusters of people sit, involved in conversations about nothing and everything. Most sound so depressing that I block them out. No one looks at me. Bronwen told me they haven't announced that the Slayer is back and they don't plan on it until we can come up with a viable plan to take back the earth from the demons. I suppose I just look like another one of them, anyway. Lost, without a mother, without a home, my eyes sunken with knowledge and my shoulders heavy with weight. The weight of the world, as Willow said so long ago.

Willow…

Shaking my head, I glance around for Dawn and Spike, but don't see them. I left Angel asleep upstairs, eager to let him rest, see him at peace. I fed him in the middle of the night, by the light of a watery lantern, sitting naked in bed, with him between my legs. He leaned against my breasts, and I tipped the cup to his lips, watching the dark redness disappear into his mouth. I stroked his chest tenderly, and felt his fingers enclose my wrists gently. Later we took another bath. Then we made love in the quiet stillness of the bedroom, the cold stars burning outside as he kissed me and I pressed my face into his shoulder so he wouldn't see me weep.

As I step into the darkened kitchen, I shrink back into the shadows when I spot Spike and Dawn. She sits in his lap, as he feeds her from a cup, slight rivulets of blood dripping down past her fangs to her chin.

“You need to eat more, pet,” he whispers softly, his fingers caressing her flat belly as he urges her to take another sip. “You're getting weak.”

“How can I be weak with you here?” she murmurs, turning so she can kiss his lips lightly. He drapes his arms around her, locking them around her back, but keeping a firm hold on the cup.

“You shouldn't say things like that,” he bemoans quietly. “If I hadn't turned you—“

“I'd be dead right now,” she says and then cocks her head to the side. “Well… deader. I wanted… I don't remember it… but I it was beautiful. So pretty. All the veins and the cold mouth and hands… you're crying! Did I cry?”

I wince when I see him drop his head to her breasts and weep. “Yes… you did. For your sister. For your life. The life I took away.”

“I was sick,” she strokes the back of his neck with such tenderness that I'm shocked. “I remember how cold it was. Don't you want me to be better, Spike? You said you did. I think… didn't you? You said her name. She left me. You didn't…”

“She gave you a gift,” he whispers. “She gave you everything. I gave you nothing. I gave you pain.”

“No…” she protests, and touches his chin, lifting his face to hers. He kisses her, and I lean back, my pulse pounding. “You gave me such a pretty thing. I want to hurt things, but I'm too tired. Why am I so tired?”

He doesn't answer, simply brings the mug of blood again to her mouth and forces her to drink the viciously still liquid. She chokes slightly, but accepts it, and the back of my throat stings with suppressed tears. I think that I know this girl, but I don't want to. She's supposed to be my sister. She's supposed to be happy, girlish, singing boy band songs in the shower and eating bacon for breakfast. Dawn loved bacon. This thing probably doesn't even remember the taste.

When we were children she loved to build sand castles. I liked to ride my bike over them. It's funny that she became the killer. Funny. Right. Can I blame her for becoming a monster though? Maybe it was me. How long can a young girl live with a sister who makes death her art… and remain untainted? Not long, it seems.

Rubbing my forehead, I wish for the fiery ache behind my eyelids to go away as I watch Spike cup Dawn's face in his large hands and say softly, “You should go rest. I'll come in later to check on you, luv.”

She presses her cheek to his momentarily, and then gets up, leaving the room through the back door leading to the other bedrooms. Spike bows his head when she leaves, and then stands, silent for a moment. Suddenly his foot connects with the chair and it flies through the air, landing with a crash against the window, shattering the glass.

I wince, the cold air seeping through from the hole in the building making goosebumps appear on my uncovered arms and legs. A shiver skates down my spine as I gaze at Spike's desolation. How can a vampire- without a soul- feel so much pain? Clearing my throat, I edge into the room.

His head snaps up and he glances at me without any expression at all on his face. “Slayer.”

“Vampire,” I mock and open the door of the refrigerator, taking out a bottle of water. My hands shake as I uncap it and lift the rim to my lips, taking a long drink.

“Better leave some of that for the starving orphans out there,” he warns me, smirking. But there's no humour in his eyes. They are dark, cold, freezing me out like the first snows of winter.

“Don't you have an elsewhere to be?” I snap, and he arches a brow.

“Didn't you come in here? Invading my space?”

“I was looking for a drink,” I tell him and he smiles slow.

“Of what? Water? Or maybe something else? What's the matter, Slayer, Angel not fill your mouth up enough last night?”

I flush. “You're disgusting.”

“That's me,” he agrees, leaning back against the wall with indolent grace. “What's the matter, you can't handle it? Don't tell me you're not an experienced little lady, Summers. We all heard the screams coming from your room last night.”

“Shut up,” I snarl, and smash the bottle down on the table, feeling the edges crumple a little beneath my fingers. “Get out of my sight, Spike.”

“Now why would I do that?” he wonders aloud. “Am I getting under your skin? Is that it, Slayer? Maybe you're not quite as immune to me as you like to pretend.”

“I never said I was immune to you,” I reply coldly. “But don't for one second think you have any effect on me, whatsoever.”

“You're trembling,” he comments out of the blue, and my stomach twists at the look in his eyes. “Come here.”

“No,” I stay where I am, little shivers arcing through my body from the frost-touched air swirling through the window. He laughs, but the sound is choked, and he shrugs out of his jacket, coming over to me, his pale as milk flesh glinting in the relative darkness. Curving it around my shoulders, he leans down and whispers against my ear; “Or is not the cold that's making you tremble, Slayer?”

“Wouldn't you like to know,” I bite off and tilt my head back, our eyes locking.

“Does it scare you?” he breathes, his finger curling around a lock of my hair.

I ignore the pants coming from between my lips, replying coolly, “What?”

“Me. You,” he pauses and then grates out, “this”, yanking me forward and kissing me. His hands lock around my back and I whimper, the side of the table hitting my hip as he presses me down onto the hard surface and rips open my shirt.

The water bottle breaks and the icy liquid splashes down my thigh, as freezing as Darla's arctic flesh. “You want this,” Spike groans. “You want to forget…”

I moan as the sharp edges of his rings scrape my nipples, the hot rush between my thighs catching me unawares as I realize that he's right. I do want this. I've wanted it for months, for reasons I don't understand. But I need to forget. I need to be the person who woke up in that gutter and died inside as she saw the charred remains of the world. Angel's opening me up again and that can't happen. I can't let him. I need to forget. How else can I live?

My lips swallow him as he tugs up my skirt and pulses against my belly, which rumbles with hunger and need and sickness. My hair spills over the sides, the ceiling distorted- wrong. The world spins and I feel his tongue rasping against my neck, his fingers inside me, the vaguely smoky scent of his flesh filling my nostrils and mouth and eyes until I can't see, I can't breathe and it's Spike--- and ---

Angel.

The vampire sleeping upstairs. Sleeping and dreaming. Of me. Of our life together.

“Stop,” I whisper, my voice thin and reedy even to my own ears. “Stop!” I cry, pushing him off me as fast as he grabbed me and gathering the tattered edges of my shirt around my reddened breasts. Everything hurts and I feel tears prick my eyes suddenly, threatening to drip down over my cheeks and reveal the weakness I abhor.

“Fucking tease,” Spike mutters, his chest rising and falling with un-necessary breath.

“Please… just go…” I press my hands to my eyes, bowing my head to my knees.

“Buffy…” he says, his voice softer, quieter… intimate.

I shy away from it, crying, “Please. Go. Spike, just go.”

I hear his sigh, but he leaves. I curl up on the surface of the table and wonder what's happened to the girl I used to be. Before he left. Before I killed him. Before Faith. Before I died.

I don't know.

~~~~

As I walk up the stairs to my room an hour later, I try and breathe out, finding the air too thick. It's not right. None of this is right. So intent am I on the floor that I knock into someone and have to grab the railing for support.

Glancing up, I am surprised to see Arion Prentiss. He nods to me. “Congratulations, Ms. Summers- on bringing Angel back to us.”

“Thanks,” I respond and wave my hand in the air. “And call me Buffy. Seriously, the whole Ms. Summers thing reminds me of school.”

He smiles slightly and nods again. “Of course- Buffy. And you call me Arion. Mr. Prentiss sounds awfully… smug.”

“It's a smug name,” I joke, grinning. “Look… we never got to finish talking. I've been thinking about it some more… and I have some questions.”

“Of course,” he motions of me to sit down on the stairs, and he joins me, scratching the back of his head in an absent gesture. “What would you like to know?”

“I just… you said, that Slayers come from… something not human? Then why don't they still? As far as I know I came along the normal way.”

His eyes glow and he looks at me. “I don't know. The first Slayer was the only one borne of the Morrigan and the raven. From war and blood and feathers, was she formed. After that, the girls were always found in the form of a human girl. Up until about a hundred years ago, Buffy, the Slayers could… assume the form of an animal.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, shaken, my hands twisting in my lap.

“They were shape shifters- capable of changing between that of an animal and a girl. Some call them skin walkers. They would hunt as animals and girls- using their powers for the Slay. It was—“

“Buffy?”

It's Bronwen. I look up and see her standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at us with worry in her eyes. I know why. I know my face is about thirty shades of pale right now and my body is shaking like a leaf to the wind.

“Hi Bronwen,” I greet her, standing. Arion brushes off his pants and leans over to murmur under his breath;

“We'll talk some other time. Have a good day, Buffy.”

“Thanks,” I answer weakly, my mind whirling with all the new information. “Do you have some news, Bronwen? You've got FYI face.”

She raises her eyebrows at my slang but the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. “Yes, actually. We're planning on departing for London in a little over an hour. We must get back before the weather worsens. Will you get Angel ready?”

“Of course,” I assure her quietly. “He'll be fine, anyway. He's just a little weak.”

“Understandable,” she nods. “Meet us downstairs, Buffy.”

“Will do,” I grin, and turn to go upstairs.

~~~~

Leaning back against Angel's chest, I sit between his legs with a voluminous blanket covering my body and snuggle close. He sleeps, his head against the canvas, which still smells of mold. His hands hold my body loosely, and I wish I could get closer. He still feels like home, after all these years.

I avoid Spike's eyes. He sits across from us, with Dawnie resting against him, her eyes closed, her face drawn. Darla is in the corner, where she likes to stay, sipping something that I suppose must be blood. Her lips are shiny. I'm too tired to object to her presence, and feel the motion of the truck winding it's way through Ireland's hills lulling me into oblivion.

The field is full of flowers and a hot, hot sun burns my back. I get up from where I sit by a cluster of rocks and see Willow, her hair brilliantly red as she weaves poems with her words and the sparrows flock around her.

“Will!” I call, a smile piercing my lips at the sight of her. My old friend.

She smiles gently. “Hey Buffy. I haven't seen you in a while. I let everyone else do the dreaming.”

“Why hasn't Giles…?” I trail off, but she understands, and the smile slips from her face.

“We're not in the same camp as Giles, Buffy. I don't know where he is. I'm sorry.”

“I understand. It s'ok,” I answer, my throat filling with bitter tears. “Why are you here? Has something happened?”

She strikes a match against the smooth stone she rests upon and I watch it flicker, realizing with horror that it signifies my friend's lives. It's not strong anymore. The flame doesn't burn bright. “I'm trying to get to you. I need some time.”

“You're making mistakes,” she whispers. “Being reckless. And that's going to come back to haunt you.”

I think of Spike and his diamond eyes and teeth against my nipples, breathing out in a harsh pant. “I don't… I don't know what I'm doing. I just get… Will, I miss you. I miss my life.”

“You haven't really had a life. Not for years, Buffy,” she informs me sadly. “You were just waiting to die. That's not living.”

“What do you want from me?” I protest. “I tried the best I could. I didn't want the things that happened to me. So many people left and I just—“

“You died so long ago,” she cuts me off. “And we missed you. We couldn't go on. Xander never could. I tried to get you back. We're sorry that we failed.”

“I'm sorry too,” I lie. “I'm sorry for everything.”

The match still burns, and the smell of sulphur and ash wafts over my skin, staining it black. “But I'm going to save you. I have to.”

She gazes into my eyes and then her hand comes up, and she swirls it in the air, causing everything to shift- melt—and she sighs, “We shall see…”

I fall through the eyes of the raven, screaming, screaming… into nothing.

(I'll never forget, I'll never forget) (I love you. I try not to—but I can't stop)

(Every Slayer's got a death wish) (You're beneath me)

(I just wonder if you'll like it as much as she did…)

(Close your eyes)

So I can kill you…

~~~~

I wake with a jerk, icy sweat dripping into my vision, causing it to blur. As I burrow down into Angel's arms, I wonder if the sweat is really tears, and decide I don't want to know.

I'm broken in two, and I know you're on to me
That I only come home,
When I'm so all alone
But I do believe, that not everything's gonna be the way
You think it ought to be
Please say honestly, you won't give up on me
And I shall believe

“I Shall Believe” Sheryl Crow


I sit alone in the meeting room, it's shadows bending and bowing as the snow falls outside. Angel's chair curls around me with its warmth, and I settle back into the velvet, unconsciously rubbing my cheek against the place where his head rests. It's a cold day, and the wind howls through London, making the immense building feel even more like the sanctuary it is supposed to be.

All the people rescued who resided in the safe house came back with us, and Angel and Bronwen have been busy all day, finding extra bedding and food around the city to shelter and feed them. I wanted to check on Dawn earlier but feared running into Spike. I sigh guiltily, trying not to remember that yesterday my tongue was in his mouth—that he was whispering my name and I wanted to let him. I wanted to let him make me forget it all.

In some ways I'm glad Angel didn't wake up with me this morning because he would have wanted to make love and I don't know how I would have explained away the livid red scratches marring my breasts from Spike's rings. But then I wish that he would have kissed me and filled me in the early hours before dawn… made me complete as he can with his heaviness inside me.

Shifting, I ignore the ache between my thighs, closing my eyes and trying to concentrate. I have to think of what Arion told me, I have to dissect my dreams of Willow, Angel, Faith… I have to come up with some kind of plan to save this world. Isn't that what I'm back for, after all? Why else would they have made me wake up in that gutter… if not to realize how much of a mistake I made when I soared through the air into that white morning? God, I still remember the feel of the electricity. Like fire. Flailing the skin from my arms and legs, my lungs breaking with the pressure of wanting to scream but finding nothing… the endless images flashing behind my eyelids of pain, pain, Mommy, Angel, Willow, Giles, Dawnie, Xander, pain, fire, Angel, Mom… It all seemed to blur together, my life.

But I wanted it.

I remember wanting it. The pain. It meant I was dying. It meant I could finally find that peace that always seemed to escape me.

“Buffy?”

My head snaps up and I gaze, startled, into Bronwen's eyes. “Hi,” I greet her, sitting up, unfolding my legs from beneath me.

She nods, and falls wearily into a chair to my right, rubbing her forehead with slim fingers. “Angel is still out finding bedding and canned goods,” she says without preamble. “I thought you'd like to know.”

“Thanks,” I smile slightly, and lean back, arching my back in a stretch. “How are you holding up? It looks like a blizzard out there. I mean, Angel's always cold so it doesn't matter for him. But you still have the humanity thing working against you.”

She glances at me with something akin to amusement in her gaze. “That's true. But the work is rewarding in it's own way. It is bloody cold however. Hopefully this will let up before the big day. I can't say it will be easy fighting in these conditions.”

“I've fought in worse,” I remind her and then continue, “has anyone came up with any battle plans? Because I'm drawing a blank. I know what we have to do – get into the building when this demon party is going on. Somehow secure them in there and kill them. But how are we going to get into the building?”

Bronwen sighs tiredly, and shakes her head. “That's what I don't know. The easiest way to kill them would be a bomb, obviously. However, it's planting it that's giving us the problem. We're also going to have to somehow keep them in there in case they get wind of our plans. Some kind of magic charm would do fine.”

“That would work,” I agree. “But who around here knows magic well enough?”

“We'll have to call the wizard task force,” she informs me. “I didn't want to, because they don't like to deal with the Muggle affairs, but we are in alliance with them… I'm sure Harry and Hermione could come up with something to help us.”

“Harry Potter?” I ask, and she nods.

“Yes. Do you know him?”

I shrug, “I know of him. My Watcher knew—my Watcher knows him.” My throat closes up for a frightening moment as I picture Giles' face in my mind. “He seems like the right person to have on our side.”

“I agree. He's extremely intelligent- and Hermione is even better. I'll call them tonight. Anyhow, I must get back to work. Angel told me to tell you that he'll be back tonight… and that he misses you.”

I look down, feeling the familiar prick of guilt in my belly. “Thanks, Bronwen.”

She smiles gently, and touches my shoulder. “He cares about you.”

Glancing up at her, I feel sudden tears burn deep in my eyes and press my fingers against my temples, massaging their ache. “I hope so,” I attempt to joke, “We're supposed to get married.”

“I mean that… you are his purpose, Buffy. Before you came back—he always kept a picture of you by his bed. I asked him once when I was picking up weapons who you were and he said… I'll always remember the look in his eyes. He said, 'She's my reason for fighting.' I just thought you'd like to know.”

“Thank you…” I murmur, feeling the salt beginning to spill from my eyes and bowing my head. “I'm glad you told me.”

The rustle of her skirt tells me she's left the room, and I sit still for a long time, listening to the wind shriek outside.

~~~~

Sweating and cursing, I punch the bag in the gym over and over, whirling around to deliver a high kick with my sneakered foot, watching the chain dislodge from the wall and send it flying through the air to land on the other side of the mat. I breathe heavily, wiping away a streak of moisture from my forehead and running to the end of the room to begin a series of cartwheels and hand springs, landing in a somersault before the doorway.

The sound of clapping reaches my ears just then. I look up, already knowing who will be there. Spike leans against the side of the door, a cigarette hanging from his lips, his leather jacket slung over his shoulder, his body a whip of sinuous grace. Looking all the world like a vamped James Dean… or at least a less insane Billy Idol.

“What do you want?” I snap as a hello, standing and brushing off my tight short shorts.

He shrugs. “To watch a Slayer get all sweaty. That ok with you?”

“Does it look like it's ok with me?” I snarl, and stalk away, picking up a set of free weights and preparing to do a few arm curls. Suddenly I feel his hands on my waist, curving around it with malevolent intent. He whirls me around, pushing me up against the wall. I don't flinch.

I feel the harsh fabric of his black jeans against my naked knees and stare up at him balefully. “What do you want from me, Spike?” I ask desperately, wishing this was over. I can't deal with it anymore. Not the guilt, not the pain… not the desire. It has to be over with, or I'm going to go insane.

“What do you think I want?” he laughs, his voice choked. His lips are a breath away from mine. “What have I always wanted, you little bitch?”

“To kill me?”

“No,” he corrects. “To fuck you and then kill you. With this chip out I can finally do both.”

“And what do you think I'm gonna do, Spike? Just roll over after we're done and let you bite me? You really are a delusional piece of work,” I sneer, and his fingers tighten painfully around my wrists. He spreads my arms so they go above my head, and leans his full weight into my body. Shuddering, I feel the sting of vomit at the back of my throat which makes my belly roil with sickness and lust and fury.

“You let Angel bite you, Slayer. And I think you must have enjoyed that…”

“You're right,” I throw at him. “I did. Because it was him. Because I love him, because I—“

He cuts me off, his mouth covering mine, sliding down my chin, to my collarbone. Angrily, I break his hold with a swift downward motion of my arms and push him away, spitting out, “Is this what I have to look forward to? Every time I say something you don't like you're gonna kiss me?”

He gazes up at me, his eyes pinpricks of rage. “Is this what *I* have to look forward to? You pretending you don't want me, Summers?”

“I'm marrying Angel,” I counter, and an expression of shock graces his features for one startling moment. “Save your kisses for my sister, Spike. After all, she seems to enjoy them enough.”

As I begin to walk past him, his fingers wrap around my leg and he grips the flexing calve muscle firmly. “I don't love her. Well… I do. But not in the way that I love you.”

“You don't know anything about love,” I growl.

“Just keep telling yourself that, blondie,” he whispers. “But I do love you.”

“It's not love,” I whisper back, frightened in spite of myself. “You don't love me. And I certainly don't love you.”

“Maybe not,” he allows quietly. “But I could change that.”

“You can't,” I deny, my voice quavering. “Nothing can change the way I feel about Angel. NOTHING, do you hear me? Let go of me, Spike.”

Our eyes meet for one terrifying moment and then his hand drops away and I run from the gym, my heart between my teeth once more. He can't ruin my future with Angel. He doesn't have that power. I'm not scared he will.

I'm scared that I might.

~~~

Snow no longer falls outside. I stand on the widow's walk, which overlooks the River Thames, and lean against the spiked railing, which is all that separates me from the long fall to the street below. Sometimes I wonder if I should just take this leap and spare us all the pain of what I'm afraid will happen. Of what my dreams are telling me. Of what Spike and Angel and I are capable of. Of the death that seems to seep into my life at every turn.

Can I ever really escape being the Bringer? Coming from blood soaked feathers and a Goddess of War?

I don't even know anymore.

“Hey,” a voice says softly from behind me, and I spin slowly around, as he takes my hands and rubs his thumbs over my gloved palms.

“Hi, baby,” I murmur. “I bet you're tired.”

Angel smiles slightly and nods, drawing me into his arms and holding me close for a moment. “Exhausted. But it was worth it. We found a lot of bedding and food. Most of the rescued people have some kind of shelter now- and some kind of place to stay in this building.”

“It wasn't exactly designed for comfort,” I point out, and he nods.

“I know. But I guess it's warm, which is more than I can say for out here. You're going to catch cold.”

“I never catch cold,” I protest, and he cups my face in his hands.

“I missed you today. What did you do?”

“Worked out. Talked to Bronwen,” I answer succinctly, guilt lacerating through me as I once again think of Spike and hate myself for lying to Angel. I burrow closer to him and gaze out into the sky, which is blackening with another storm approaching. I wish there was sun, here. I wish I could see the goldenness of Sunnydale one more time. “Do you ever wonder if this is what our lives are going to be like?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, dropping a kiss on my forehead, and then on my bitterly cold mouth.

“Waiting for the other one to come home. That's what wives used to use widow's walks for, didn't they? Watching the oceans for their husbands to come home and knowing they never would. That there had been a storm, or a freak accident, or pirates… and their captain was never going to dock… never going to come in and kiss them hello…” Tears gather at the corner of my eyes and I hide my face in his coat, wishing for all the world that we were just a normal couple.

He strokes my back, his voice bleak, “No. We'll always come back to each other, Buffy. I love you. Nothing can ever change that.”

“What if love isn't enough?” I whisper, and look out past the river, to the sea, the air dropping to freezing, as snow begins to fall once more. It bathes us in white, as I murmur, “What if it isn't, Angel?”

He doesn't answer me for a moment, and then tips my face up to kiss my lips. “It will always be enough for us. I promise you, Buffy.”

We stand there, on the widow's walk, until night falls.

PART THREE

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