“Why are you doing this, Buffy?” Willow cried out, her eyes straining to see into the shadows. At a slight movement, she drew in a shaky breath and accused, “You k-killed—you k-k-killed C-c-c...”

“Cordelia”, Buffy concluded, stepping out of the shadows, looking thoroughly unruffled, except for the blood spattered lightly on her white shirt. “Yes, I did.”

“But why?!” Willow screamed, tears streaming down her face as she slid down the wall and curled into a ball on the cold, stone floor. The horrors she'd seen in the burnt out warehouse slithered in front of her eyes as Buffy advanced on her. The bodies, the blood... Oh, God, the blood.

“Oh, Willow”, Buffy drawled indulgently, shaking her head. “You’re no good at this game. You should’ve run, run, run to Giles for help. It wouldn’t have changed anything, but it’s no fun if you don’t even try.” Willow shuddered as Buffy crouched in front of her, and she closed her eyes against the pain and fear when the Slayer reached out.

After an eternity of waiting, Willow opened her eyes to see Buffy smiling sadly, her hand poised inches from the Wiccan’s face.

Willow licked her dry, cracked lips with painful slowness and asked, “Are you going to kill me now?”

“It’s what I am, Willow”, Buffy sighed, retracting her hand.

“No, it’s not”, Willow insisted in a tiny voice, scrunching up smaller as if she could escape Buffy’s notice. “You weren’t like this before.”

“I was always like this, Willow. You just didn’t think it was wrong before; when it was vampires and demons.” Buffy tilted her head slowly, her eyes focusing on a point beyond Willow’s head. “All Slayers are different. For Kendra, it was a duty. With Faith, it’s the adrenalin rush in the fight.” Buffy’s eyes lasered into Willow’s, and the hacker’s breath came in short gasps. “Didn’t you ever wonder why they were taken as little kids and trained all their lives, and I grew up like one of you? Like a human being?”

“You’re a human—“

“NO!” Buffy shouted, grabbing a handful of Willow’s shoulder-length hair and forcing her head back to expose the tender skin of her neck. Willow whimpered in terror, trying to watch Buffy from an angle. “I am not human. I’m not like you. Humans don’t...don’t...they...”, Buffy trailed off as her face went completely blank, and then Willow was suddenly free, and she fell back heavily against the wall.

“The Watcher’s knew what I’d be”, Buffy said calmly. “They wanted me to die and not be a Slayer. Merrick tried to kill me, you know.” Buffy smiled cheerfully as Willow made a soft sound of denial. “It’s true. He threw a knife at my head, when I didn’t have any training. He sent me out to slay the vampires and battle Lothos before I knew much more than ‘insert stake into heart’. Would he do that if he wasn’t trying to kill me?”

“Giles is a Watcher, and he wouldn’t...”

“Giles is different. He protects me. He loves me. He’d never ever hurt me.” Buffy rocked lightly on her heels, crouched like a cat ready to pounce.

“So...so”, Willow began slowly, “Why did the Watchers try to k-kill you?”

“Because I like the kill. They knew I would”, Buffy confided, idly wrapping a strand of Willow’s hair around one finger. “Fighting is fun, but shoving the stake in and feeling the vampire burst is—it was my favorite part. And then I killed a person, and, Willow, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt. It’s like a drug.” Buffy closed her eyes in remembered rapture, rolling her head back and shivering happily. When she opened her eyes again, she turned her gaze on Willow. “It’s so easy to get addicted. And once you are...Willow...” Buffy laid her hand against the side of Willow’s neck and gently slid her thumb up and down the delicate flesh of the red-head’s throat as a low hum began to build in her chest. “I look at you, and all I see is snapping your pretty neck, and hearing your bones break, and the warmth of your blood on my hands. It’ll be so nice, Willow. It won’t hurt.”

“Buffy, I don’t want to die”, Willow said, her voice quivering slightly as Buffy’s grip tightened almost imperceptibly.

“...so soft...so fragile...”, Buffy mused, clearly in her own world.

“Buffy, please...”, Willow pleaded, one hand creeping instinctively toward her neck. Thinking quickly, trying to keep the Slayer talking, she asked, “Buffy? Did you...did you kill all the people in that warehouse?”

Buffy sprang away in a rush, her eyes wide and fearful in her suddenly pale face. “They were bad men, Willow. They hurt me—and I told them not to...I begged...”, Buffy trailed off, staring into the distance as she rubbed her lower abdomen absently. “They deserved it.”

Willow stared at Buffy with pity. “What did they do to you?”

“No, no, no, no—it hurt, it was bad, they deserved it”, Buffy chanted, backing away and wrapping her arms around herself as her eyes filled with tears. Tucking her chin against her chest to hide her face behind a curtain of blond hair, Buffy insisted, “It’s not my fault!”

“Did you like killing them, Buffy?” Willow asked as she slid one hand toward a jagged piece of glass that lay to her right.

“Yes”, the Slayer whispered, “it made me feel different. It made the hurt go away. I have to...have to make it not hurt. Xander helped, but I still needed Cordy...to make the clock stop...”

Willow closed her eyes in blinding pain. Xander. “Did it work?”

“Yessss...”

And was it worth it?”, Willow demanded, gripping the shard tightly and bringing it to her side, all the while keeping her eyes locked on the trembling Slayer. Just one chance.

Buffy shuddered helplessly. “Xander was...Cordy...I needed...”

“Cordelia didn’t deserve to get sliced open like that, Buffy. She was a bitch, but she never hurt you. Not physically.”

“She hurt you. You’re my friend.” Buffy was petulant now. Soon, soon.

“You want to kill me. You want to hurt me. That’s not what friends do.” Willow steeled herself as Buffy went still and turned to her.

“It won’t hurt, Will,” she assured solemnly. “I just need to make you stop before you try and get me in trouble and hurt me. That way we’ll still be friends.” Buffy slowly approached and knelt by Willow. “Don’t fight, okay? It won’t hurt, I promise. I’m sorry it has to be this way...”

“No, you’re not”, Willow hissed bitterly.

There was a flash, and a horrible wet sound, and a thick warmth pulsing over Willow’s fingers, and then Buffy cried out—a sharp, whimpering keen of anguish—and then pain, and Willow was flying, falling, tumbling, into empty space...

And then sharp clarity and indescribable pain, and peace, and tiredness, and the prickly feeling of lying on concrete for too long...

And stickiness.

And sighing.

And nothing.