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.” next