I feel just like I'm sinking
And I claw for solid ground
I'm pulled down by the undertow,
Never thought I could feel so low
In all the darkness, I feel like letting go

-Sarah M. "Full of Grace"


Angel is dead.

Angel is dead.

Angel is dead.

I keep repeating that to myself as we board the train in Sunnydale Station.

I still don't feel anything.

A vampire greets us as we step into the boxcar, and Spike swigs his whiskey, holding my little sister's hand as he mumbles a sour "bugger off" in the general direction of the demon. I follow, glancing around with disinterest at the wine coloured velvet used to decorate the seats and walls. No one looks at me twice- and the train is packed.

Spike dressed me in leather and blood red lipstick of Dawn's before we left, telling me too look threatening and pissed off. I gave him a blank look and he sighed, touching my face.

"He's gone, pet. Move on. He sure did after you took the plunge."

I felt like maybe I should have hit him for that. But I did nothing. I let him tug the clothes over my naked skin, felt his fingers mussing my sleek hair into a tousled style, tasted the slide of his tongue against my lower lip as he wet it to make the withered, old lipstick go on with greater ease.

"Was that an excuse?" I asked him, as his eyes stared into mine.

"What, blondie?" he snapped impatiently, as he slipped boots over my feet and wiped the streaks of vomit from my face. I puked a lot when I found out about Angel. I can still taste coppery blood on my tongue and occasionally, I swish the salvia around so the bitterness rises in my throat.

"To kiss me," I said, without any bite to my tone.

"When I kiss you, Slayer," he remarked dryly, "you'll know it. Come on then."

We sit on the train, and I watch the dryness of Sunnydale pass in a cracked blackened blur. I hope I never see it again. I imagine every building is dripping with my friends blood. I can see their eyes in the dirt and thick ashen soot, their hands in the broken beams of wood, their hair in the scruffy patches of wilted grass- hear their laughter and screams in every screech of the train's whistle.

Jesus.

I hate this life. I hate this town.

"Why does the train still run?" I ask Spike suddenly.

He looks up, from where he's lying with his head on Dawn's knee. She sleeps, her hair fanned around her in a silken chestnut haze. She's beautiful and she's just a thing now, and I don't know why I did it. Why I gave everything up- why I made the *choice* if *this* was how it was meant to end up. I wonder why I killed Angel all those years ago- why I didn't just send us and the world straight to Hell with a kiss and a strike of the sword?

"Why do you ask that?"

"Because," I point out, "the town's dead, but the train's still running. No sense is being made here."

He looks faintly uncomfortable and shrugs. "Vamps like it. It gets them places. Besides, Sunnydale's still Hellmouthy."

"Why would they need the Hellmouth?" I inquire. "You said the dimensions bleeded into each other anyway."

Spike cracks open on eye and glares at me. "Are you gonna be tired any time soon?" he snarls. "Cause I sure as fuck all need some rest."

"Fine. Sleep," I dismiss him. "It doesn't matter to me. Just answer me one question- is Dawnie a vampire?"

He grins, his white teeth glinting in the faint light of the compartment. "Yeah, my pet, she is. That's what you died for. So your little sis could become one of the creatures you kill. How does that feel?"

I stare at him mutely for a moment, the lights outside blurring and fading before my eyes. There's a slight roar in my ears and I can't really hear it- only just barely – but it sounds a little like Angel's voice. "I don't feel anything," I tell him truthfully. "Go to sleep. Where are we going, by the way?"

"To Europe, blondie," he says quietly. "And if you've got even one lick of sense left in that scrawny little body- you'll close your eyes and have a snooze as well."

I don't say anything and soon I can tell he's asleep. Turning to the window, I press my nose to the glass and breathe slowly, watching it fog like the sun's rays around my head and face. If I run with them all the way to Europe- will I be able to forget everyone I used to know? I keep wondering how they felt after I died… after I ran and ran and it was so loud and then so quiet? Who told Angel? Or did he know? I always imagined that the second the breath left my body, he'd instantly feel something wrong with the world. I think I'm being stupid, and watch the way the clouds drift with their sickly grey swirls.

He's dead.

I breathe out and glance at Spike's hand, resting on the slight swell of my sister's belly. I stare at it but it doesn't make sense, so I give up. A pinging sound makes me look at the window. Splashes of silvery rain spill over the glass, and I feel my insides convulse with remembered pain. If only I'd just stayed asleep that morning. If only I'd just curled up underneath those covers and kept whatever vestiges of innocence I had left. If only he'd never left. I wonder- if he had stayed- would I have jumped from that tower? Would I have had the courage to leave him behind?

The answer starts to scare me, so I go back to glancing at the rain. Its heavy and I can't see outside anymore. It occurs to me that the world as I know is gone. That I'm creating some kind of new life with Spike and Dawn. It makes me laugh… almost.

He's dead.

I bite down on my lips and see the splatter of bright red blood hit the black leather of my shirt. I don't feel anything.

My eyes close and I wish I could die. I need to sleep- for a long, long time.

(Shuuuuuuuuushhhhh)

Close your eyes

Buffy, you know you have to let me go—

It stops now! No! it never stops---

Mom? Mom? Mommy? MOM?

(Sleeeeeeeeep…)

You have the power to do real good--- monster--- monster—

The body?

So I told him that I loved him---

And I killed him---

And I kissed him---

He just held—

- me

(Screamsssssssssssss)

Death is your --- gift

You got burned when Angel left--- left--- burned---

Do you love me?

Do you?

Love me?

The only way—Buffy—the only way—is to kill Dawn

-- I kill my sister

When I look into the future---

-- all I see is you--

you think you know—what's to come—

(lies… all lies… nothing but death.

No one TOLD me…)

What you ARE…

ARE

ARE!

Cold sweat pools over my flesh as I awaken with a start, opening my eyes to the darkness. Spike is sitting quietly, smoking with careless grace. Dawn sleeps evenly, I can hear her breathing- and it confuses me.

"She still holds on to some human traits," Spike informs me softly, as if he can see straight into my brain. "Breathing is something she does. It comforts her."

"How would *you* have the first clue of what comforts my sister?" I ask scathingly.

Spike laughs. "Well, pet, I've spent the last four years with her in my bed. While you were off enjoying your peaceful death. Tell me… what did you bloody well think would happen after you sacrificed yourself for the greater good? That things would go back to normal? That it would be a *fabulous * thing for everyone?"

"I saved Dawn," I say firmly. "That's what I wanted."

"You saved Dawn?" he repeats. "Dawn is a vampire, luv. Can you tell me how that translates into saving her?"

"Shut up!" I shout, my voice hoarse. "I did what I had to do. It was my job. You could never understand that Spike. You have absolutely no purpose on this planet. Except taking up precious space."

"So the fire returns, I see," he bites mockingly, lolling back on the seat with studied casualness.

With equal casualness, I take my nails and dig them as hard as I can into my bare arm. In a hot gush, the blood drips down onto the floor, between my boots. I still feel nothing, and stare at the blond vampire, shrugging. "If whoever brought me back wanted the old Buffy, I think they're in for a disappointment."

He eyes me with something akin to fascination and fear. "I wouldn't say a disappointment, pet."

Dawn stirs, sitting up with a slow grace. She takes the cigarette from her lover's hand and brings it to her lips, inhaling deeply. Smoke curls into the air, coming from her nostrils and mouth in little puffs.

"What time is it Spike?" she inquires in a flat voice, and he shrugs.

"I have no idea, lil one. Are you hungry? I brought something along for you."

"What?" she pouts, her nails raking against his chest.

"My arm of course," he says low, and she giggles, bending her head to smell the pale flesh, immediately vamping out. Her fangs sink deep into his skin, and trails of shiny blood flow past her lips. I feel vomit sting the back of my throat and turn my head away, staring out the window at the rain pounding outside.

"Can't look, Slayer?" Spike murmurs tauntingly. "This a little too much for you?"

"No," I reply, acting bored. "But I don't exactly have a burning need to watch it either."

Dawn's head jerks up and I find myself looking at her- wanting to throw up at the sight of her mouth- wide and red- and her eyes- so yellow like dying suns. She growls at me. "Are you going to shut up any time soon? You're distracting me."

"Dawn…" I murmur and for a moment she looks lost.

"No one calls me that anymore," she tells me, and her face shifts back into the girl's I once knew. "There is no Dawn."

"Isn't there?" I ask blankly. "Well then what in the fuck did I die for?"

Spike chuckles throatily. "You died because you wanted to, blondie. Why don't you just admit it? You haven't been the same since pretty boy left—"

I splutter with laughter. "You think *Riley* drove me to suicide?"

His eyes lock with mine and I feel dizzy. "No, you dumb chit. I think you know who I mean."

"Angelllll…" Dawn purrs, as my stomach goes hot and syrupy and I gag, leaning over and pressing a fierce hand to my midsection.

"That is *not* why I jumped," I scream, trying to breathe. Why can't I just cry? I need to cry. "I jumped because—because I needed to save my sister. Don't you get that? I had to. I couldn't let her die. Not then, and not ever."

"Why didn't you love Riley?" Spike inquires suddenly, crossing his arms. "I mean besides the fact that he was about as exciting as powdered milk?"

I glance at him, unwilling to respond. "I did… I did love Riley."

Dawn smiles and cuddles into Spike's chest. "She's lying, lover. Should we kill her? I'm still hungry."

"Shush lil bit," he scowls, and grabs my arm. "You didn't love Riley. You've been a zombie since Angel left. Actually- scratch that- you've been different ever since you sent the ol'bastard to Hell- where, might I add, he should have stayed. You've wanted to die ever since then, Slayer. Don't deny it. I saw it. I knew you'd be in love till it killed one of you."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," I whisper, drawing my legs up underneath me.

He nods. "Fine. Run away. But I'd like to tell you something. He heard about your heroic turn, he mourned a little, then he got over it. He didn't let his life end, blondie. Think about that for a while."

I close him out, glancing out of the window and seeing ocean. Flat and grey, it stretches out into nowhere. Spike told me before we left that the demons build railways all over the world, and even connected the countries separated by oceans with them, because no demons wanted to be as close to the sun as you are when you fly. I think of what would happen if the tracks gave way and we plunged into the deep, deep ocean.

I think about a lot of things.

Angel is dead.

Angel is dead.

And I think I might be too.

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