Can you see her standing there,
Trying to find her anywhere
There are flowers in her hand, but she doesn't know why
Offered is advice to you, but all you do is fake it
Mother, she's only yours tonight, and she never
Cries, mother…

Our Lady Peace- "Julia"


Red lips curve in a grin as Dawn- my little sister- stares down at me, lying on the stone floor with streaks of blood and vomit on my mouth and aching teeth.

"You're back," she bites, her hand running down Spike's arm caressingly. I feel my stomach bubble with cold sweat as she touches him and fear chokes my throat with an ever increasing grip. The dirt on the floor gets into my nose and between my lips and I hear myself cough, but it sounds so far away.

"Dawnie?" I whisper and I know my voice is lost. Everything is lost. And I'm afraid my friends won't ever be found. Oh,

God. "What's the matter, Slayer?" Spike smiles slow, his eyes like the ravens in my dreams- sharp, menacing and crueller than a drowning ocean.

"No," I say and I think it sounds firm, but it's weak. Dawn makes a mewling noise from deep within her, and I feel sick. It's not her, I tell myself. It can't be her. I didn't die for this person. No, no, no.

Dawn reaches down with her red tipped nails and touches my hair. "When did you rejoin the living, my big sister? It's been quite a while."

"*Stop* talking to me that way," I order, standing, hating the way she towers over me, in spiked heels and a long black leather coat. Oh, Dawnie. She looks beautiful, even though I don't know this being she has become. Spike. Burning rage fills my insides, turning them molten red. I'm going to kill him, this time.

I turn to him, and his platinum locks look tousled in the faint wash of lantern light. He holds up his hands and leans up against the wall, a vee of pale chest showing from the open neck of his shirt. "Relax, pet," he growls softly, his eyes devouring me in that way that always made me hot and furious at the same time. "I didn't turn the lil bit. Well…" he pauses, and licks his suddenly present fangs lovingly, "not all the way."

"What in the fuck does that mean?" I snarl and he appears startled for a moment, but then laughs.

"You never change, do ya blondie? I'd have thought a couple of years in the ground would've lightened you up a bit. Made you enjoy life a little bit more."

"Spike." I take a step towards him threateningly, but to my disconcertion, he doesn't even flinch. He just looks even more pleased.

"After you took the dive into sainthood," he begins, his long fingers curling around Dawn's waist, as she leans into him, her teeth nipping gently at his ear. I watch, disbelieving. Is this what I left her for? Left her so she could watch all our friends die? So Spike could turn her into a vampire? Giles, I think. I miss Giles. Blinking back tears, I nod for him to go on.

"Everyone was a little fucked up. Ol' Rupert took to the drink. He blamed himself for everything, of course. The little witch tried every spell in the book to get you back. Damn shame that she couldn't, of course," Spike smiles slowly, sarcastically. "Xander couldn't forget you- he was such a ponce- Anya couldn't deal so she split- on to bigger and better vengeance, I'd imagine."

"Xander and Anya…" I breathe and feel myself wither even more. "What about—" I can't bring myself to give the creature in front of me the name of my sister. "What about her?"

He grins and slips a hand through Dawn's hair, feathering it and inhaling it's scent- which to me, is like rotten wildflowers, dust and blood.

When we were kids, Dawn used to love to play outside. She was usually prissy about things, but not about dirt. I'd always see her in the sandbox, or in the dead leaves of the Fall- her hair mussed and her face streaked with mud. When she would come inside, she's sometimes hug me if we weren't in a fight. I catch a faint wisp of what she smelled like then, now, but it's different. She never had the scent of the dead.

"No one could get her to talk about you," he informs me silkily. "Except me. And so it ended up that she was staying with me, and when the demons came- she was saved because of me, Slayer. I hid her and we escaped it. So she wanted a little taste afterward- she was frightened out of her bloody head. She's had a little bit of my blood- but it's nothing to go crazy over."

"She drank from you?" I spit out. "And you think it's nothing for me to go crazy over? Let me ask you something Spike- do you remember me at all?"

He lets go of Dawn so abruptly that she stumbles, and advances towards me, gripping my arms with his iron palms. My lungs sting as I rasp out my breathing, in such a rage that I can barely see anything but white hot anger.

"Oh yes, I remember, Slayer," he snaps, his nose only a breath away from mine. "I remember what a cowardly little thing you were. Sacrificing yourself for your sister- as if it was the most saintly thing to do. Let me tell you, pet, it was the most selfish act of foolishness I'd ever witnessed. You wanted it. You wanted to die- you wanted that peace- as I always knew you did. But you disguised it- you made a mockery out of it with your dive from that tower. You didn't even have the fucking guts to admit that you wanted to die, you wanted to give up—"

"That's not true," I bite out, struggling with his punishing grasp. "I had to save Dawn. I couldn't let her go."

"So you let yourself go?" he finishes for me, and pushes me away from him, so I fall, knocking my elbow against the wall. I hear it crack and the swelling pain swirls up my arm with malignant speed, swallowing my cells and sending pain molecules straight to my brain.

In a daze, my eyes blurry, I see Dawn's outline as she brushes my side with her boot. It's steel tip presses hard into the flesh of my hip. "Should we kill her again, lover?" she asks coldly.

Spike's laughter rings in my ears. "No, my lil pet. Let her be. She could be useful- you know you want to leave this place."

"Oh, right," she mumbles, as if she's drunk. "I'm so tired. And I'm hungry. Can I—"

"Of course," he whispers low and husky.

All I hear as I pass out into the land of darkness, are soft sucking noises and a vampire's purrs.

~~~

(Screamssssssssssss---)

Meet your new baby sister

I love you. I try not to… but I can't---

I can't do this without you.

I'm sorry. Sorry I couldn't kill him for you---

(Liar. Such a liar.)

No one's ever known me like you do—

(More lies! You belong to the night…)

I'm never gonna be a normal… I want my life to—

The slayer does not walk in this world

I walk—

No…

(Sleep, darling. You need the peace)

That look of peace. I just wonder… I just wonder if you'll like it as much as she---

What about me? I love you so much—and I tried- I killed—

Is this really happening?

(Think of the peace… )

When you kiss me I wanna die

I'm weak

Buffy-

Buffy----

What's going on?

Buffy?

I don't … I don't

-- remember

"Angel!!!!!"

My face is soaked with cold sweat as I wake. Where am I? God, all these stupid questions I'll never have answered.

A match is lit, I see the flare against the night. I'm outside, lying in the dirt and grass, my eyes upturned to the stars and the cloak of moon. Spike smokes quietly beside me, leaning against a headstone, which I realize sickly- is my own.

I can just make out the edges of the letters—B—Summ- saved--- a lot. I never thought of it like this. Never thought my passing would merit a gravestone- merit a funeral or grief. I just did what I had to do. Jesus, why didn't I think it through? Why was I so fucking impulsive?

"So you finally remembered the love of your life, huh Slayer?" Spike asks me, flicking some ash on to my arm. I feel the burn send sparks to my brain, and rub my aching elbow.

"Where is he?" I inquire, telling myself over and over to be calm. He's alive. He's always going to be there—it's Angel for crying out fucking loud—of course he's aliv—

"He's dead," Spike says blankly. "Died when the demons took over Los Angeles and set the fires. They got rid of the City of Angels right quick, let me tell ya, blondie. Gutted it and burned it into ash. The poufter tried to save everyone and they all got carted off… but he… he got killed."

I can't hear him.

I'm not sure I hear anything.

My Angel. Angel.

I feel everything go dizzy and the colours of the night sky blend together, into a mess of red diamond stars and waxy trees and blackened bones. I feel as if I should scream but my throat is so dry I can't even speak. My head lolls back as I slip into oblivion.

I dream of my mother. And my sister. She used to read us the stories of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere when we were children- and we'd sit on her lap, each fighting for balance as she curled us under a fluffy blanket and read from books that smelled like must and old parchment.

(This isn't some fairytale… when I kiss you- you don't wake up and live happily ever after)

I'm going to hit the sky and it's going to break my neck. I think I need to go to Mars. I need to drift into the bowels of Hell.

I need to be where he is.

Angel.

(How's forever? Is forever good for you?)

No more forever. No more chances.

I dream of Africa, even though I've never been. Of the hot sun and the way the tigers and lions come out at night. I dream of the murky misty forests of Camelot- of the knights at the round table and the sword I used to kill Angel and strike him down to the deepest of Hells.

I sleep and dream Angel and turn over and throw up into the graveyard choked with bones. I lie next to my own grave and feel myself die for the thousandth time, without him.

(Maybe I don't want a friend…

I didn't say- I was your's.)

I hear the raven, and the flap of wings, beating against my face and cheek. Willow's eyes glare at me with tired hazel hunger and I think I can flood my insides with forgetfulness and everything will be ok.

A finger brushes my forehead, and my eyelashes. "Are you ready to get out of Sunnydale, Slayer?"

"Yes, Spike," I answer coolly, blankly.

"I'm ready."

next