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.”

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