Heights: Heights
by skytowerpoet
"The choices we make," Buffy whispered to herself. Without looking back at a cowering Dawn, she took a sprinter's start and headed for the edge of the platform. Powerful legs stomped into the cold metal beneath her as she raced for the edge, the adrenaline kicking in to make what she had chosen to do seem no more than sheer reaction. It seemed like forever to her, it was; forever had come in a day.

Her body carelessly flew through the air. Thrashing limbs did nothing to slow the descent as portals to God knows what and where opened all around her. Blues, reds, and oranges filled the sky as different shades of lightning struck the ground and shattered the earth. Colors blurred as her mind spun into a daze finally realizing what her leap of faith had ended.

"Angel?" she called out. "Angel, is that you?"

"Yes," he replied coldly. She could barely make out his silhouette in the shadows. He was nothing more than a figure in the dark night sky but she could see clearly that he now stood in the open. His long, black duster drifted about with the subtle breeze. "I'm here."

"I'm scared Angel. I'm scared to? to die.."

"Don't be. Death is not the end. It is only the beginning. It's only the beginning for you."

"Angel, please, don't go. Don't let me die." He didn't respond, instead, turning on his heel he walked into the alley and out of sight.

The wind was beginning to catch her weight as she tumbled effortlessly in the cold air. Faintly, she could hear the petrifying screams of her younger sister, who now clutched the metal beam above her after collapsing to the platform. Her head was over the edge, looking down at Buffy's free-falling body.

"Buffy, I'm so glad you came." Giles acknowledged by nodding his head before looking her over. It had been a long time since he had discussed the events unfolding in Sunnydale with her in length and it was about time to endeavor to such. With her recent meeting with the first slayer and the knowledge of her younger sister being the Key, there was all too much going on in her mind for her to be left alone in dealing with it.

"I came as soon as I could," she smiled kindly at her mentor. "I was hoping we could talk. I've been meaning to ask you something. It's been bothering me awhile now."

"What is it?" He could tell by her facial expression that this question had been puzzling her. Sitting down on his old couch he sipped his tea slowly, waiting for her inquiry.

"The first slayer, she said something to me. It's something that has been bothering me for weeks. It was kind of cryptic, and we all know I don't do cryptic well." She was stalling, not wanting to repeat those words that plagued her deep at night. Not wanting to relive the horror of the visions and the flashes she got when she thought of that meeting. Then finally she simply said it: "Death is my gift."

"Death is your gift," he mumbled to himself in bewilderment. "Is that all she said?"

"Yes."

Now the others had taken notice of Buffy as they courageously held off Glory's followers. Willow had taken Tara in her arms, having broken the spell of the goddess, and now Xander tediously took hold of the task to free himself from the lumber that had fallen from a construction list. Spike had fought his way through the group of monks that guarded the tower Glory had built and was now rushing to the top, to Dawn, and to Buffy.

"I love you," Spike's words ran hollow through her ears. She wrapped the comforter around her shoulders and felt her way on the wall to the door. Opening it she began for the staircase and downstairs for a glass of water.

"How can you love me?" she asked herself. "How can you love anyone?" She criticized the vampire even though, in all truth, he intrigued her. She would never admit that of course. Just like she would never admit that he had been of help to her more than he gave him credit for. In the same stroke, he had put her life and the life of her friends in jeopardy many times. In many of those cases, he had been the sole proprietor to which her death would be of reconciliation. She shook her head and laughed.

"Dawn!" Spike exclaimed finding the young girl crying hysterically. Kneeling next to her he made sure she was okay before looking up and finding Buffy nowhere. Then he looked down. "Bloody hell." He said it solemnly, not condescending or otherwise, with no smile or hint of satisfaction that the slayer had taken a plunge to her death.

Things were blurry. Spinning around her were the swirls of clouds as the dimensions began to seep back into the vile to which they were each contained. Her vision was off, her muscles twitched, and her heart raced. While she jumped seconds ago, to her it seemed like an eternity had past.

"I am the slayer. This is my job. I may not like it but there's no turning back. Sometimes I wish it was different. Sometimes I wish I was a normal girl, living in a normal town, doing normal things. Then I think of Dawn. That's when I know this is all worth it. Even if it means death."

Silence.

Darkness.

Her small frame had come crashing into warehouse crates seconds before her eyes had closed for good. Her heart had stopped sometime before that, during the fall. Blood was beginning to overflow onto the concrete below as the sickening crack of bones still laid fresh in the minds of those who were close enough to watch.

"Buffy," Xander gasped.

"Buffy!" Willow ran to the aid of her helpless friend but stopped short. There was nothing she could do; there was nothing anyone could do.

"It stopped." Those were Giles' words as he glanced into the now calm Sunnydale skies. "It's over." He refused to look at Buffy, his soul purpose in life had been to protect, and now she lay bruised and broken. Dead.

"Dawn," Tara spied Spike coming up behind the group. "I-i-is she all right?"

"I think so," Spike replied not sure what to say. His eyes looked over Buffy and he tried hard to hide back the tears that were fighting their way to the surface.

Dawn broke away from him, from them all. She walked around the crates, her eyes wandering over her sister's battered body. It was useless for her to reach out and touch. It was useless for her to wish it didn't have to be this way. It was useless for her to cry anymore. All Dawn wanted was her mom back. And now, just like she wanted her sister back.

Silence engulfed the Scooby gang or what lay left of it. Most of the others had scattered finding themselves disorientated for what was a long period of time in their little lives.

"Death is her gift," Dawn somewhat suddenly announced meeting the eyes of some of the others. "Death is her gift!" She fell to the ground sobbing uncontrollably. Willow had rushed to her side and cradled Dawn in her arms. Nobody moved. Nobody dared move.

"Death is my gift," Buffy realized as she took her start for the edge. Nobody realized it then but the solution to Glory had been there all along. Nobody was ready for the consequence to taking out a god. Nobody. Except her, and even then it almost came too late. Sooner or later, everyone comes to conclusions of their own purpose. While she had been the slayer for her entire life, she had been a sister longer.

Dawn was her life, her blood.

Even though she used to be afraid of heights, she'd gladly face that demon in the face, if it meant her sister was safe for good.

Even if it meant her life in the process.

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