She keeps crying out your name
But her screams sound the same
How fickle fate can be

- “She Cries Your Name” Beth Orton

The blonde disappears into the crowd, and I watch dumbly, staring into the overcast sky with its swirls of black and grey. I remember Angel staking his sire so long ago. When we had barely met, barely kissed- he killed the woman who made him – for me.

I bite my lip. A thin drip of red spills onto the carpet, running from my chin. I don't feel anything. If only I could cry- I think I'd feel better. Or something. I'm not sure anymore. I don't even remember what I died for. What I fought for all these years. Was it so Darla could walk the streets while Angel is ash somewhere? Ashes to the wind… blackened bones?

Something stings the back of my throat, and as an acrid taste floods my mouth, I realize its vomit. Stumbling, I make it to the bathroom and fall to my knees, emptying my insides into the basin. My elbow cracks against the side of the bathtub as I collapse, shaking, and it's just a dull ache compared to the inferno in my brain. I can't see. Little pinpricks of light send sparks down to my belly and I feel myself tremble with rage.

Angel is dead.

I'm dead.

Everyone is gone. How do they expect me to live in this world?

I feel a hand stroking my hair.

“You shouldn't cry over the bastard, Slayer,” Spike's gruff voice intones as he slips down beside me and hands me a wet towel for my face. Dragging my tongue over my lips, I realize they are streaked with blood.

“I'm not crying,” I whisper, and wipe my cheeks with the warm material. I'm so tired.

“You're puking,” he reminds me. “That's bad enough. For all of us, I might add.”

“Oh I'm so sorry,” I bite caustically. “I'll try and cut back on the throwing up so you don't have to deal with it.”

He laughs and leans into me slightly. I let him. “Sounds more like the girl I used to know.”

“You said I wasn't that girl anymore,” I murmur, and my head lolls back as I stare at the ceiling. Water that was squeezed from the washcloth trickles over the sides of my face and into my ears. “Maybe I don't want to be her. I don't even remember who she was.”

“She was a stuck up snob,” Spike informs me. “A right bitch with an attitude.”

“But you loved her,” I whisper dully.

He laughs again, harshly. “Yeah, I did, Slayer. But she died, and that's over with. Now I *love* her little sister.”

I lock eyes with him and get up, my knees wobbling as I walk. “I should kill you for that.”

“Yeah,” he agrees roughly and grabs my hand, crushing my wrist with his fingers. “But you aren't going to. Why not?”

I gaze down at him blankly. “Maybe I just pity you.”

My wrist almost snaps as he presses down on the bone, but I make no sound. It doesn't hurt. I don't feel anything. That should worry me, but I have more important things to think about. “Don't you ever pity me, pet. I survived those four years- none of your little Scooby gang did. Think about that.”

“I can't think about that,” I mutter. “If I do- I might really lose it, Spike. Do you want that?”

“Maybe I want you to lose it with me,” he grinds out, bringing my palm to his lips. The cool kiss and the touch of his tongue startles me.

Jerking my hand away, I shake my head. I can't answer him. I once said it would never be him. Never. That's a big word.

(I'm never gonna change. I *can't* change. I want my life---“)

My belly hurts. Everything stings. God, I can't think. What did I see on the street? And then I remember.

“I think Darla's alive,” I say apathetically and he hesitates before asking;

“Why do you think that? She's dust, blondie.”

“I saw her this morning on the street.”

He glances at me and shrugs. “She's dead. You were hallucinating.”

“I wasn't,” I deny staunchly.

He sighs and stands, unbuttoning his shirt. “I'm gonna take a shower now, Slayer. Unless you want to join me, you'd better get out.”

As a sliver of his pale chest is revealed, I stand there and breathe. Wouldn't it be so easy to forget? Wouldn't it be so easy to step forward and go into the burning frostiness of his embrace? I can imagine him sliding inside me. I wonder if he'd make it all go away. His hands still on the buttons as he gazes at me blankly.

“Buffy?”

Who is that? Buffy… I haven't heard her name for so long. I remember the way Angel used to say it- it was never just a name. He made Buffy so much more than that. It was a lament- a groan, a sigh, a tortured rasp, a tender whisper- never simple.

Maybe that's why when he left- everything got so quiet.

I stare at Spike, and know that he could make things loud. He'd drown out the silence. Tipping my head back, I watch the way the ceiling shimmers, and think I see the sky- black as pitch and just as thick and murky. My throat feels swollen and I swallow, everything rolling into oblivion. Angel…

I imagine I hear the wind chimes that jangled in the breeze the day my Mother died and I imagine I hear Angel saying my name- “Buffy… Buffy…” and then everything shifts as Spike shouts, and there's a crack as my face hits the floor. Blood splatters onto the tiles and everything is dizzy as he carries me into the bedroom and lays me down gently.

“Spike?” I grab his shirt and pull him close.

“Yeah?” he asks huskily.

“I woke up in a gutter, you know.”

He flinches and strokes my hair. “I didn't know that, pet.”

“I did and I saw Darla. I know I did. We have to find her. Maybe she's… she could be up to something bad.”

“Everyone's up to something bad,” he laughs harshly. “C'mon, Slayer. Get with it. This is a world run by demons. Chaos reigns.”

“But shouldn't I try and stop it?” I argue, and my head feels clearer. “I am still the Slayer. Whoever brought me back must have wanted something.”

I think that if I just take care of Darla- maybe they'll let me die again. Then I can be back in the vacuum of nothingness where I've spent the last four years. Trapped in the blurring nowhere. For a moment I picture Angel waiting for me there and smile.

Spike looks surprised and grins. “What are you thinkin' about, blondie? That's the first time you've cracked a smile since you've been back.”

I blink. “I wasn't thinking about anything.”

I can feel his breath on my face as he leans close. It smells coppery- and I wonder if he's been feeding. “You were thinking about my bloody sire, weren't you?”

“No,” I deny quietly, and he shakes his head.

“You have to forget about the bugger, Slayer. As I told you, he mourned you for a bit, but he soon closed that book and fucking well moved on. As you should.”

“I have moved on,” I say, weary. “I moved on a long time ago. I forgot. I made a new life.”

(liar. Liar. LIAR)

He appears doubtful and I want to scream. My eyes are dry- and my inside yawn with emptiness. “Let me sleep. Where's Dawn?”

“Out getting something to eat,” he says casually, and begins to tuck a blanket around my trembling legs. “Get some rest, blondie. We're all going tonight.”

“Where?” I murmur as my eyes begin to close.

I feel the kiss brush my brow, and his hand smoothes my cheek. “Doing some recon, luv. We need to see who's in town besides us.”

I barely hear him as the blackness claims me and I fall headlong into the raven's eyes, it's feathers tickling my hair as I fly.

Willow sits in the grass of the field, sparrows landing on her shoulders. She sings sweetly, her fingers caressing their wings as she feeds them tiny seeds. Flowers adorn the brightness of her hair and I stare, transfixed at the beauty of the sight.

“Hello Buffy,” she says liltingly. “How are you?”

“A little confused,” I whisper, and take a step closer to her. I realize she's wearing the purple gown my sister wore on that night- but don't see any blood marring the heavy fabric. “What are you doing here?”

“This is your head,” she laughs. “You tell me.”

“No,” I say firmly. “You're here to tell me. Not the other way around.”

She smiles sadly. “You've forgotten.”

“Forgotten what?” I mutter.

“Everything. Everything there is to remember, you've forgotten. Your past, your future- you've tried to make yourself into someone you're not, Buffy.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, frustrated. I pick a flower, and it withers in my hand, turning black as ashes and soot. I drop it, watching the dust spin in the air and coat my skin. “I don't understand, Will. What do I need to remember?”

“You've forgotten,” she repeats. “You promised you'd never forget, and you did. But it's not just that, Buffy. You haven't been the same in a long time, and you need to figure out what's missing. You need to save everyone. A lot of people need saving.”

“Who?” I cry. “The world is a demon paradise, Will! Do you want me to save them? Do some demon therapy?”

She grins, and she looks so much like my old friend at that moment I moan with pain and fall to my knees amongst the fragrant blooms, their perfume flooding my nose. “I miss you, Will.”

“I know,” she says softly. “But you need to look closer, Buffy. You're not seeing everything. You need to look closer.”

“I don't understand,” I murmur, and lay back, the grass and reeds enfolding me in their embrace. “I just need to sleep. For a long time.”

Her voice is ominous. “Sleep. You'll need it for what's to come.”

(Sleep… sleep and dream, darling…)

Ok, killer--- if that's the way you want it- you're on your---

-- own

Death is your gift

It has to have the blood

It's Summers blood----

-- just like

- Mine

They told me to lose my soul—

--- in you

(You're scared… so powerful—too much for you)

the kid who got his finger stuck in the duck—

- dyke. It's another word for dam

-- damned--

because I wanted to

become

I saw you. And I loved---

Hello, lover

The part at the end of the night where we say goodnight—

Goodbye

(You never said Goodbye. Never… ever. Kill him? No. Always with you)

love is forever

is there a problem, Ma'am?

We're not supposed to touch—

- the body?

No, my Mom!

Ok, what do I want?

All I want is you

You even look pretty when you go to sleep—

(You could never sleep without him---)

What are you afraid of? Me? Us?

It's my Mom-

- she's not--- not breathing—

the body's cold?

NO!

Mommy…

You can't do this alone

You don't have to do this alone

How's forever?

I'm never gonna- change----- is this really

-- happening?

(You are alone)

You think you know?

What you ARE?

I love you

(Death is your gift…)

Close your eyes

I wake up to the familiar cold sweat bubbling down my neck, soaking my T-shirt. I feel a hand on my arm. It's cool and soft.

“Dawnie?” I whisper.

“You were crying out in your sleep.” Her voice is strange, lost. “Spike's not here. He went to get us weapons.”

“Weapons? For what?” I ask, sitting up, and rubbing my forehead.

“Just for protection. Lots of bad people out there. Bad bad people. Spike told me,” she mumbles, and I grip her wrist, turning her towards me.

“Dawnie… do you remember anything about our life before?”

She stares at me with hollow eyes. I remember the girl she once was- who cut her wrists bloody, who wrote a page every night in her glitter covered journal. Who fell to the floor and screamed when I told her our Mom was gone. I remember her and feel myself wanting to weep and rage, but I can't.

“Yes,” she murmurs in a sing-song tone. “You were so pretty. You were my big sister. We fought and Mom always scolded us. Those memories are so weird, though… they're not real. Spike gave me something real. He gave me a gift.”

“No…” I moan, holding her shoulders. “I was supposed to be giving you the gift, Dawn! I gave up everything for you… don't you understand that?”

She gazes at me and then twists in my grasp, her hands jerking nervously. “I don't remember. I'm telling you I don't remember!”

“Why did you drink Spike's blood?” I ask her, trying to stay calm.

She blinks and her fall of silken hair covers her face. “I don't know. I wanted him. I loved him. I love Spike. He was so nice to me. Even when Angel came and I wanted to go with him- Spike- Spike- he made me see that I shouldn't go anywhere—“

I interrupt her, my voice deadly cold. “Angel came to Sunnydale?”

She looks scared and babbles, “Oh no… I wasn't supposed to talk about him. I shouldn't be talking about him—Spike, he told me not to. Oh no… he's going to be mad at me…”

Light starts to dawn, and I remember the way the horizon shone when I jumped and I lay my hands firmly on her face, cupping her cheeks. “Don't move from this room. I'll be back.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Dawnie. Stay here.”

She looks so alone as I leave, but I know now. I have to talk to Spike.

He knows more than he's telling me.

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