All is the Fear and Nothing is the Love: Part Two
by JHorizon77
*Disclaimer: Buffy, Angel, Spike, Dru, Giles, & co. belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I'm just borrowing them for my fanfic; Ill put them all back when I'm done. I might keep Angel, though...

*Spoilers: Everything up to and including Becoming II

*Author's Notes: See prologue

Part Two

"All is the fear and nothing is the love,
As little as the wisdom, where the flight
So runs against all reason." - Shakespeare, Macbeth

I don't understand it. I brooded about it all day, and I just don't understand it, Willow thought to herself, fiddling with her hands as Oz pushed her home from school in silence. Neither was able to find the right words to express what they were feeling at the moment. It wasn't every day one of your best friends suddenly leaves without warning. During all her classes, she had tried to figure out what had gone wrong. Still, she was left with no answers. I told Xand to tell Buffy about the curse, and he did. He said she had been really relieved, and stuff. But, why would Buffy not take extra steps to keep Angel away from Acathla if she knew the curse was about to...' Her thoughts trailed off as something finally occurred to her. Before she could speak up, however, she heard a girl behind her shout, "Willow! Oz! Wait for us!"

Coming to a stop, Oz craned his head around and saw Cordelia and Xander walking towards them. He called back to the other guy, "Hey, man, what was with the attitude problem in there?" Scowling, Xander shook his head. Look, I, uh, I'd rather not talk about it. Willow looked up at her long time comrade, who was strolling along side her wheelchair. "Xand, come off it...please. For all our sake's, just, you know, settle down." As the guilt washed over him once more, he responded with a sigh, "My God, you guys. I know I don't do the submissive pack member thing too often, but I think I'd better tuck my tail between my legs and say I'm sorry."

"Don't you think you should have said something to Giles instead running off to the candy machines right away? I mean, I think you actually hurt Book Man's feelings." Cordelia paused, trying to find the right way to make him less glum. Realizing the only way was to go through his feelings for the Slayer, she continued as a slightly hurt expression crossed her features, "Buffy wouldn't have wanted you to act this way."

Bringing his eyes up from the ground to her's, he asked, "Okay, can we please stop acting like Buffy is dead? God, she's alive...just not anywhere that's...here." He sped up, then, breaking away from the group. Sighing, Cordelia said, "Sorry, guys, I've gotta go talk to him." She jogged ahead, leaving the couple in peace, once more.

Willow stared sadly her childhood friend in the distance. Concerned by her stillness, Oz asked, "Baby, are you okay?" Acknowledging his statement, but not actually answering it, she spoke to know one in particular. "There was a time when Xander would tell me anything. If he had a problem, I was repair-girl. I could help him with anything he threw at me...then Buffy came. Don't get me wrong, I love Buffy like a sister, and it's not her that's the problem. It's Xander. I feel like he's so wrapped up it his obsession for her that he doesn't even notice what he has right in front of him."

"I know. That guy has some serious issues. I mean, I don't know him as well as you all do cause of how I'm a trainee to the Slayerettes, but...he's gotta move on. Buffy doesn't love him." Nodding, Willow pulled her gaze off the couple who had moved far ahead, already. She whispered, "He's just so damned jealous." Then, the flood gates opened, and tears jostled her body. Noticing this immediately, Oz stopped and moved in front of her.

He placed a careful hand on her red cheek, brushing away the drops of water as they cascaded from her eyes. "What's the matter, Will?" Through her tears, she said, "I-I think that Xander m-might...might not have told Buffy about the curse. H-He's just so jealous..." Her sobs began to intensify as she visibly pondered this notion. Oz responded quickly, trying to cease her tears. "Baby, baby...listen to me. We don't know that; there's no proof of Xander goin' all Benedict Arnold on us. I mean do you honestly think he'd do that? I mean, you know him."

Nodding fearfully, Willow whispered in a voice barley audible, "It's because I know him that...I know he's capable of it." Continuing to dry her face, Oz gathered his girlfriend in his arms, careful not to disturb any of the wounds inflected upon her by the demon Angelus. The sun's rays warmed them as they sat that way for quite sometime. Each was thinking about what they could possibly do to get Buffy back if she truly was forced to kill *her* Angel last night...not the demon.

* * *

Darkness had claimed her mind, her every thought. How she welcomed letting go of the pain, of the memories whose paint was yet damp on the canvas of her soul. Inhaling the stale air of the dismally gray bus, Buffy felt the shadows remove themselves from her body and recede. As she slowly woke up, she was thankful that the brief period of rest hadn't brought with it images of earlier that morning. The nightmares that so often plagued her unconsciousness we not in attendance, today. Rubbing her eyes with a sleepy hand, Buffy forced them open and realized the bus was nearing the LAX Airport.

'Thank God,' she thought. The sooner she left California behind her, the better. Too many ghosts dwelled here: Merrick -her old watcher-, Jesse, Teresa, Jenny...Angel. Gathering her single bag, Buffy wondered if they would follow her to where she was headed. Would the spirits of her Slaying career haunt her forever? As if in response to her foolish question, the ring Angel had given her throbbed around her finger, telling her that they shall plague her mind always.

Night's familiar winds sent shivers up and down Buffy's spine as she stepped off the bus, despite the fact she wore a long sleeve jacket over another shirt. She wondered if it was her common sense questioning her judgment, her Slayer's instinct begging her to stay by the Hellmouth and guard it. Shaking her head, as though to clear her head of any thoughts such as those, Buffy rationalized that Kendra's replacement could handle the burden of the infamous Boca Del Infierno.

'No, she wouldn't be able to...' her Slayer's heart cried, but she pushed it down as easily as she pushed open the door to the airport which would finally take her away from the source of her sorrow. With a quick step, Buffy moved through the terminal, searching for an airline that might have flights towards her lover's homeland. She gave up soon, and walked over to an American based company, asking which service flew to Ireland. Finally, she received an answer and strode blankly down the busy corridors of the airport.

Drying her eyes of the tears which had begun to form without permission, Buffy cursed at how easily they seemed to fall these days. Her brain was on auto pilot as she fought with herself not to turn her thoughts to her fears about deserting everyone. They'd be fine...they had to be. Unfortunately, her daze had left her unaware of the man trailing her until a hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her into sparsely populated hallway. Narrowing her eyes, Buffy practically growled, "What do *you* want?"

Whistler looked her over and noticed her dishelved appearance. "What happened to you, Slayer? I thought you were campaigning to be the next Calvin Klein model, or somethin'. From what I've seen, you always look like you've stepped outta one of those cheesy teenage magazines. You know the ones I'm talking about. But, what gives, here? Baggy pants, flannel...you remind me of a tortured demon with a soul a met a long time ago. All ratty...you looking to join a gang, now?"

Glaring, Buffy laughed bitterly, her defenses shutting out the pain. "What gives? I don't know, asshole, killing Angel made me kinda, what's the word? Oh, right, GUILTY! SAD! Whatever you call it, if the emotion's dark, chances are it's mine. After pausing briefly, she continued, "But you already knew I'd have to kill *my* Angel before I even Giles' house, didn't you? You seem to know everything."

Avoiding her question, Whistler looked around the corner. "Hey kid, you'd better hustle, you've got a plane to catch." In a hushed voice, she responded, "Look, I still need to buy my ticket, so I've got plenty of time...believe me. Now, I want you to answer me. You fucking knew, didn't you?"

"Whoa! Hey, let's watch the graphic language, there, kiddo. Do you know how many little tikes are around this place? All of them wearing those Mickey Mouse ears, ready for fun in the sun at Disneyland; you could corrupt their young minds with just one foul word. You wouldn't want that to happen." Taking off his hat and turning it thoughtfully in his hands, Whistler nodded slowly. "Yeah, I knew. Besides, it was already written in the ancient texts. Look, kid, some things have to occur in the time line for other stuff to happen later on. It's just fate, simple as that. Take the domino effect, for example. Knock down that first domino, and all the others fall accordingly. However, you remove one piece, then the chain breaks, and you don't finish the cool design. Point is, your getting down with Angel in January is what forced you to condemn him last night. It couldn't be stopped, and it would have been wrong to try. Now, that event is the new starting point for your life. You have a world of choices from here, kid. Leaving the country is one, but I can tell that even you are doubting your decision...is it the right this to do?"

Laughing acridly, once more, Buffy said, "Do you honestly think I don't know leaving probably isn't the best think to do? God, I'm the Slayer...but I'm so tired of living my life only for destiny. Even if I did want to keep on fighting, they don't need me. Another Slayer will come around to take Kendra's place...I'd just be in the way. A freakish footnote; the Chosen One who came back from the dead and screwed up the one girl in all the world thing. That, and Xander..." Whistler put his hand up. "Yeah, that kids got some major issues to contend with. But, Slayer, I guarantee that if you leave the Hellmouth, if you take one step out of California, you'll cause more problems than you could possibly imagine." Buffy narrowed her eyes as he continued. "You leave, and the world is gonna cry."

Shaking her head, Buffy said, "Honestly, that is one of the corniest things I've ever heard. I can't believe you thought that going all mopey and cryptic on me would convince me to stay. Whistler shrugged. "What was I supposed to say? I'm a tactful guy. Hey, I coulda spoke the truth. If you hadn't been such a slut, none of this ever would have happened." Enraged, Buffy drew back her fist and connected with the demon's face before he had a chance to dodge. "Go to Hell, Whistler. I'll go where ever I want, and as for that night...stay out of it."

She stormed off, leaving Whistler behind, rubbing his jawbone as he struggled to his feet. He sighed as best a demon could as he watched her departing figure. "Sorry, kid, I had to make sure you'd leave the country...to meet your fate. Heaven help me, I wish you didn't have to..."

Further away, the Slayer stormed through the terminal, searching for the company she had been directed to. She felt her blood boil as she thought about the audacity Whistler had displayed. It utterly appalled her, but she tried valiantly to calm herself down as she approached the ticket counter. A young woman behind the desk smiled at her and asked, "Hello, miss, may I help you with something?" Buffy opened her mouth to speak and tried to overcome to urge to turn around and just go home. "Yes, um...I need a one-way ticket to, uh, Galway, Ireland...I guess. The earliest flight you've got would-would be best."

"Name?" Not wanting to use her own name, she came up with the first thing she could think of. "Angel...A-Angelle Fields."There, her lover's name coupled with her mother's maiden name. With any luck, Willow wouldn't be able to track her, now. Suddenly raising her eyebrow, the clerk asked, "Miss, don't you want to make that ticket a round trip?" Buffy thought fast, and finally decided to answer her with a stretched version of the truth. "Um, my...close friend was murdered there today, and the family wants me there for the funeral. I-I don't know when I'll be coming back." The woman mouthed a sympathetic apology for prying, and turned to her computer screen. After punching in a few keys, she said, "I have a couple of openings on the flight bound for Galway that boards in approximately fifteen minutes. Will that be enough time? If not, the next slot is on the eight o'clock tomorrow morning."

It was an excellent inquiry, one that Buffy dreaded answering. Was fifteen minutes really enough time to leave the only world she had ever known behind? Whistler's words about the dangers of leaving played in her head. She toyed with the notion of running back into the Sunnydale High School library and asking Giles for her next assignment. Suddenly, flashes of Angelus holding Willow by the throughout, torturing Giles, and murdering Ms. Calendar raced through her mind. You've got a lot to learn about men, although you proved that last night. The words echoed in her head, cruel and cold as the demon that had uttered them. They disappeared as an image of Angel's face marred with shock and betrayal became frozen in her mind. "Miss? Which would you like?"

Coming out of her daze, Buffy picked her head up and looked at the clerk. "Yeah, um...fifteen minutes will be great." She fished out almost all of the money she had hoarded in her bedroom and handed it to the woman behind the counter. Sighing, she thanked her and took her ticket. She walked slowly over to the window and watched the airplanes taking off and landing against a dark sky, spotted by the first visible stars of the night.

Soon, her thoughts turned to the changes that would ultimately come about due to her leaving. Giles would probably be mournful for a bit, but once the new Slayer arrived, he would have a carbon copy of Kendra: strong, dedicated, worthy of her title. He would enviably be proud of the new Slayer, and her devotion to duty would make him happy, once more. Her closest friends, Xander and Willow, would be more dejected than her Watcher. In time, though, she knew they would eventually move on and realize that she was only putting them in danger by being with them. What truly bothered her was that Buffy was positive her mother would be crushed by her disappearance, blaming herself for her running away.

Sighing, Buffy took comfort in the knowledge that her friends would talk to her and explain the complicated world that used to be her life. As she looked out the window, she realized how much she miss that world: goofing around with Xander and Willow, fighting with her mother and her Watcher...she would even miss Cordelia. They were all apart of who she was. Of course, there was Angel, and the memories of fending off evil at his side. She wondered if he would want her leave, or if he was in Hell asking her to continue destroying the corruption that surrounded her. Once again, Buffy began to seriously contemplate remaining on the Hellmouth.

Ghosts of the pasts or no ghosts of the past, people needed her...*counted* on her to be there. Her sacred duty was to slay vampires and stop the spread of their evil, not to high tail it whenever the situation got too rough. But, the guilt overshadowed her want to continue living the life of the Chosen One. Angels face was everywhere, begging her to explain why she had driven a sword through his chest when she was kissing him tenderly only moments before. It was driving her mad, and she needed a way out.

Her mind on him, she wondered how things might have been different. What if Ms. Calendar had informed them of the limitations to the original curse? What if Drusilla and Angelus had not stopped the ritual Willow had attempted in the library? What if...what if Xander had told her about Willows intentions to perform the ceremony again. Moving her head around in thought, Buffy brought it back up to the glass and peered out into the darkness. What had caused her to think that? She found her answer as she remembered how she observed the uncomfortable pause Xander had taken when he relayed their friends message. "Willow told me to tell you...Kick his ass." It finally dawned on her that Willow never would have said that, even after a beating like she took from the undead flunkies of the demon Angelus. Buffy knew now that her brain had registered this fact, but her heart didn't listen as it was hard set on its mission to kill Angelus. Thinking back on her conversation with Whistler a short while ago, Buffy remembered saying something unconsciously about Xander...her heart still could not believe what she her mind knew was the truth. All the what if's seeped out of her head as she shook it to end this trip into a dangerous place. The only thing she understood now was that her friend had betrayed her as she betrayed Angel, and it was time to leave.

"Buffy..." Through the din of the airport terminal, she could have sworn she heard her name whispered in the air, and she whipped her head around to find the source. There was none; no one had actually called her name. It was only her imagination beginning to play games with her mind. Lonely, she clasped her pale hands to her arms and sighed remorsefully. Buffy shut her eyes and closed herself off from the world around her as she thought. The constant chatter of the international airport faded into nothingness as she began to pray.

A little unaccustomed to the religion scene, she hoped that whomever heard her pleas forgave her for neglecting it. Everything in her life was so jumbled up at the moment that she didn't know what to trust, who to trust. She prayed silently that the powers that be would send her an absolution; something concrete that would never change, no matter what she did, or what she said. Opening her eyelids slowly, her gaze fell upon her right hand resting delicately on her other arm. The Claddagh ring seemed to pulse in the fluorescent lighting of the terminal. It's beat spoke to her in words only she could understand, 'Buffy...I love you. I try not to, but I can't stop.'

Remembering the power of those words, the effect they still had on her to this day, Buffy felt tears welling up in her eyes, yet again. She felt a presence nearing her on the right, but she did not care; nothing mattered but her pain and furthering it to suffer as Angel now suffered. The murmur of people surrounding her began to rise in her ears, as she slowly came out of the fog she had been in. Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw the person next to her lean forward and take a closer look at her hand. In a voice heavily laced with an Irish accent, the young man said, "Pardon me, miss, I couldn't help but notice that you are in distress."

Buffy turned to face the man and gasped. He could have easily been Angel's double if her vampiric lover was here and appeared five or so years younger. Scrunching her features in thought, she wondered why people connected with Angel kept approaching her. 'To screw around with your head and make your life a living Hell,' a voice in her head told her bitterly. Attention back on the man, she heard him say, "I see I have offended you by talking to you. I wouldn't worry yourself, miss, I have a beautiful girl back home that I have no intentions of cheating on. I merely make it my business to comfort young ladies who weep. Any gentlemen from my homeland would. By the way, my name is Miles."

Sniffling, she responded by whispering her name softly, still unsure of his intentions. Miles gestured to the hand he had been looking at earlier and said softly, "Well, Buffy, I see you wear an Claddagh ring...you do know that it is the Irish wedding band from centuries ago, don't you?" Staring at him albeit shocked, Buffy replied, "H-he's Irish...the guy that gave this to me. He was originally from Galway, I think. Um...he told me that his people would exchange these as an act of devotion."

"Aye, he's not wrong, Buffy. This ring was generally given during the wedding ceremony, which I should hope would be a time of devotion!" he laughed gently. It faded as he continued, "If your lover was born in Ireland, as you say, then he probably observes some of the old customs. I'd imagine he loves you very dearly, and still does. I must say, to possess that kind of love at such a young age, I have to ask myself why a girl like you must stand alone in an airport terminal, weeping by the window?"

Sighing, Buffy was forced to think quickly, again, to come up with a plausible story. "He, my boyfriend, um...he was visiting relatives and had an accident. H-he died, and he's being buried in the city he was born in. I, um..." Cutting her off, the young man said sympathetically, "Forgive me, I must have only made matters worse by talking to you about him." Buffy shook her head and managed a tiny smile. "No, um, it kinda helped." The door which lead to the arm of the plane opened, and a pair of flight attendants stepped out, beginning to board passengers. Miles bent down to pick up his bag, causing his necklace to peek out from his shirt. Written in what Buffy assumed was Irish, she asked, "I, uh, I was just wondering what your necklace says."

He smiled as she ran in between his fingers. "My girl at home gave this to me for my birthday. She always calls me this as a nickname. In English it is...how do you say it?" Glancing around the terminal, he searched for something that might refresh his memory. His eyes landed on the cross around Buffy's neck, and he put his hand to his forehead, deep in thought. With a questioning expression, Buffy looked down, seeing what Miles was staring at. *His* cross lie gracefully over her shirt, glowing in the lights that shone above them. "Angel," she whispered, the guilt of his murder surfacing in her heart, once more. "Angel! That's the translation. Thank you." Off her expression, he asked, "What? Did I say something wrong?" She could not believe this. Of all the nice guys in an airport at any given time, she had to meet the one Irish man whose nickname happened to be the same as her deceased lovers.

Utterly lost, Buffy ran. She reached the two attendants and shoved her ticket at them hastily. Ignoring the strange looks they offered her in return, she moved swiftly onto the airplane itself. She did not like deserting Miles before thanking him for his kindness, but the time had come to abandon her life as Chosen One. It was finally over; Sunnydale was about to become another awful memory of her career as Slayer. Yet, even though she held an incessant need to get away, she still felt terrible for leaving everyone behind so suddenly. She just could not endure one more night on the Hellmouth without having an angel's arms surrounding her. This was the way it had to be; there was no going back this time.

* * *

Joyce sat by herself in the dim library, reading the Watcher Diary that Buffy's mentor had begun when they had first moved to Sunnydale. As she looked over the entries of Rupert Giles, she found herself holding new respect for both him and her daughter. All those nights that Buffy had snuck out, all the times that she had ditched classes...they were due to the responsibility she was given out of the hands of destiny. Joyce now understood why Giles was always hanging around her daughter; he was her Watcher. Fate, too, had given him the job of protecting Buffy from the evil that she fought on a day-to-day basis. Everything was falling into place, and it felt good to finally be in the light about what Buffy did while she was not watching. After finishing the passage about Buffy's time in the hospital, she laid the book down on the table, needing a break. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temples to relieve the stress that pushed against her head.

It was to this that Giles arrived, brows furrowed in thought, and he immediately asked, "Mrs. Summers? Are you all right? I-I wasn't expecting you to still be here." Fighting back the tears were rising again, Joyce nodded. "I, um...I was just reading this, uh, what did you call it? Watcher Diary?" At his nod, she gave a slow one of her own saying, "I couldn't put it down. That, and even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to stay at home. All morning, I'd just keep seeing her. I would hear her voice, and Id turn around, expecting to see her come barreling down the stairs, or-or..." Her voice faded away, and she looked down towards her hands, unable to speak.

Placing the folder he currently held onto the table, Giles pulled up a chair besides Mrs. Summers. "I know what you mean; not seeing her training in here after school today had me quite, uh...choked up. There's a certain bewildering feeling in it all. I can fully understand why you wouldn't have wanted to go home." Shaking her head, Joyce muttered, "Those poor children; Buffy, Xander, Willow...they faced this danger everyday?" He nodded. "Practically. Buffy, she would slay solely because she was destined to do so. The rest of them, though, especially Willow and Xander, they have so much loyalty to her. They fight and assist us because they choose to, and I find that most brave and true. I, myself, question whether I would have done the same at that age. I suppose it is derived from their want to keep her safe."

"So, Buffy hated slaying?" Trying to find the right words, Giles began, "Buffy was, um...set on retiring when she arrived in Sunnydale, as I'm sure you read in my log. I believe she began slaying once more because I insisted on it; she was quite reluctant to follow her calling when I first knew her. I...I d-don't think she *hated* it, more she regretted missing out on the freedom of being a regular teenager. As of late...the past school year...she developed a *want* to slay, a-at least I assume so from the way she acted. Of course, she was very, well...determined after Jenny's...after Ms. Calendar passed away. Buffy set out on a mission, of sorts, to kill Angel, and anything in her way was destroyed."

Looking back towards the diary briefly, Joyce turned back to the Watcher and asked, "They really loved each other, didn't they?" It was more of a statement than a inquiry, which gained a sincere smile from Giles. "Yes, without question. They, um, t-they shared a passion that I have never seen doubled. Unfortunately, their relationship was destined to failure from day one, although I never had to tell them that; they knew. I had always hoped they would be able to over come it, but Angel...was a vampire, and Buffy, she's, uh...s-she's the Slayer...Yes, they loved each other, and I wish with all my heart that they could have had more time. This is why I feel the obligation to attempt this ritual; it was Jenny's last wish, it has always been Buffy's, and we require her presence in Sunnydale. I have no idea how long the Hellmouth can stand without the Slayer to guard it."

Sniffling, Joyce asked, "Will she come back? Do you think shell be able to?" Regarding her sadly, Giles repeated himself. "They loved each other, Mrs. Summers, er, Joyce...As I have mentioned, Buffy's feelings for Angel go far deeper than any other teenager's that I have seen. Angel, despite what Xander might be inclined to tell you, loved your daughter with the same power. It was a most mature relationship, and they both took it quite seriously...The point of all this rambling lies in their love, the bond which drew them together and made it impossible to separate them. If we cannot bring Angel back, I'm not sure how Buffy would fare here without him."

Not fully understanding him, she scrunched her forehead in confusion. "But, hasn't she been on her own since her birthday?" Giles sighed and stood up, suddenly feeling the need to move around as he talked. "Buffy lost her Angel, true, and yet she always clung onto a shred of hope that she would be able to convert him to our side. However, this morning, we believe she was witnessed him die, possibly by her own hands. What that must have done to her..." He sat down on the edge of the oak table and grasped his diary purposely. "Buffy Summers was, is, truly the finest Slayer I have ever known. She had a great deal of inner strength and determination...but we must consider that, if she had to kill him, chances are she could never return to Sunnydale. Even if we are successful in reviving Angel, I'm not entirely sure we would be able to track her down."

They sat silently for a few moments, pondering what the future might hold if that turned out to be true. Closing his eyes briefly and dismissing the very notion of it, Giles spoke softly, "We cannot lose hope; she wouldn't have." Taking on a darker tone of voice he continued, "Although, if we are lacking constructive things to do around here, we might consider plotting the assignation of our dear principal." Joyce, surprised at his sarcasm, raised her eyebrow. "Pardon me?" Picking up the folder he had carried in with him, Giles shook his head slowly.

"Principal Snyder has always held a grudge against Buffy, partly due to her extensive Slayer-related permanent record, and partly due to some personal vendetta he has had towards her since he near the end of the previous school year." Finally understanding something, Joyce interrupted, "Because of how the last one was eaten by that group of possessed students?"

"Y-yes, um...yes, hyenas. Anyhow, it seems as though this murder accusation is the final straw on the proverbial camel's back. Principal Snyder called me in tonight to discuss..." Once again, Joyce stopped him mid-conversation and asked, "Why, um, why is he calling you in so late at night? Does he not have a life?" Smiling a little, Giles said, "Well, um, demons do tend to prefer the night life. I'm not quite sure what he's doing here so late, nor do I care to ask. All I care about is Buffy's well being...Snyder told me he had been trying to reach you all day, and yet he couldn't reach you. So, I have been appointed t-to..." He broke off, collected his thoughts, and tried again. "For want of a better word, the bastard informed me that as of this morning, Buffy is officially expelled from Sunnydale High School."

As Giles saw the anger rising in Joyce's eyes, he was quick to add, "Joyce, um... Buffy's e-escapades involving school are entirely due to her duty as the Slayer. I assure you that she'd never intentionally cause trouble if she didn't have to. I-I wouldn't be mad at her. In fact, I would have some pity for the poor girl. Apparently, Buffy walked out of the library holding a sword. Meanwhile, Snyder was no doubt standing like a hapless idiot while she marched out to face her most difficult battle yet. Good versus evil; love versus hate; I truly feel for her. I can't imagine how much pain she must have been in at that point."

Whispering, Joyce spoke up, "I can." Slightly confused by what she had said, Giles took his seat beside her and questioned, "What do you mean by that?" She sighed. "There, um, there's some things you should probably know about last night. They barely make sense to me, but...you'll understand. At least, I-I hope you can..." She trailed off as she wiped at the tears which were starting she roll unwanted down her cheeks. Continuing, she said, "When I told you that I had seen Buffy, um, stake a-a vampire, I didn't mention that she had another guy with her. Name was...Spike, I think, and from what she said, I guess they're not on the friends and family list."

Giles was struggling to grasp this new information, and he asked worriedly, "D-did he hurt you in anyway? Did he do anything to Buffy?" Shaking her head, Joyce responded, "No, no I'm fine. Actually, he helped her fight the...man on the front porch. That must be why she asked him inside to talk about..."

"She did *what*? Of all the bloody insane things to do!" he interrupted, gawking at the fact that Buffy would ever entertain the idea of inviting Spike into her home. Giles was in full Watcher mode, now, and his disapproval was showered on yet another Summers female. "Spike i-is one of the most dangerous vampires that I have had the misfortune of coming across. Why Buffy would willingly let him enter her home when she could be staking him is..." Joyce spoke in a raised voice as she began to fight for control of the conversation, "She had some sort of...deal going on with him." Noticing that Giles had ceased his tirade, she lowered her voice and continued, "Buffy and this Spike were talking about freeing you and killing Angel. I guess he was supposed to keep you safe if some lady got to leave town unharmed."

Nodding in comprehension, Giles said, "Y-yes, um...Drusilla. She's Spike lover, to put to term loosely. I believe her attentions were forced more on Angelus after he reverted back into his element of-of evil." Puzzlement displayed on her face once again, Joyce asked, "Isn't...isn't that incest? I thought I read in your journal that Angel made..." Smiling at the notion in spite of himself, Giles cleared his throughout and tried to act serious. "W-well, um...no. A sire and its...offspring...are not bound by blood as human families are. Um, n-no, actually, I suppose they are. I assume, though, that you have no interest in my ramblings, so suffice to say that the undead parental relationships are quite different than ours.

"Moving on, I wanted to ask you a question earlier, but thought you might want to answer with our four teenage friends hovering around us. What exactly made Buffy write, I'm not mad, in her parting letter?...I realize it must be personal, but I am her Watcher, a-and I would like to..." Cutting him off with her hand, she moved it down to the table and began absently tracing the woods natural lines. After a moments thought, Joyce brought her eyes to meet those of her daughters Watcher and said guiltily, "I kicked her out."

Not knowing exactly what to say, Giles simply muttered, "Oh," and got up from the chair. He walked into his office and placed the portfolio on his desk. There, his gaze fell upon a framed picture of the original three Slayerettes taken here in the library. It was not that he disliked Angel, Cordelia, or Oz, but the charter members held a special place in his heart. In this particular photograph, Willow and Buffy sat side by side at the large table, Xander standing in back of them with arms draped across the ladies shoulders. He smiled at the memory of simpler days. Staring at the picture, he wondered whether or not they could ever have this, again. Xander's attitude about Angel had gone from bad to worse, lately, Willow was busy giving him the cold shoulder, and Buffy was missing in action.

Returning to the present, Giles sighed. He was a little angry with Mrs. Summers for throwing Buffy out, but then, if his Slayer did not blame her, how could he? Too confused to think at the moment, his mind concentrating on the upcoming ritual, Giles moved back out into the main room. "Um, I do hate to sound rude, but my volumes are calling to me. I must research this ceremony that might bring Angel out of Hell."

Joyce nodded and picked up the Watcher Diary that lay on the table. Holding it gently in her hands, she said, "Thank you, Mr. Giles." His anger melted away instantly as he saw the expression on her face. The pain written there matched the heartache that he, too, felt inside him. "It'll be all right. Just, remember that," he told her departing figure. Still, even as he spoke these generic words of comfort, he found himself questioning whether or not the ritual would work at all, and if it did, they still had no leads on Buffy.

* * *

LAX AIRPORT

An old car screeched to a hult in the crowded parking garage making people around it turn around and stare at the reckless driving. Getting out of the drivers side, the blond vampire stared with utter dread at the entrance to the airport, dreading the moment he would have to walk through it. Spike still remembered clearly the night they had come to Los Angeles from Prague by way of a Delta cargo hold. Things had been going smoothly until they had been stopped at this very terminal in the customs area. His goddess had started to believe that the personal were going to put her body on the belt and X-ray it instead of her bag. 'Bloody hell, the scene she made that day. Thought I was gonna have to club her and drag her through the entire airport by her hair.'

Spike regarded Drusilla, who was presently sitting in the front seat oblivious to the open car door. Humming her mother's favorite tune, she ran her long fingers across the dash board in wavy lines. After observing this scene, Spike shook his head with a small smile. 'Might not be such a bad idea, after all.'

Reaching his hand out to her, Spike asked, "Pet, we do have a plane to catch. Would you get out of the car?" Drusilla took it and smiled wickedly as she stepped into the dark lot. "My Spike, can we eat, now? My stomach is growly."

With another shake of his head, he responded, "No, not now, we've go to fetch us a plane to Angel Land so we can finally kill the Slayer bitch once and for all." She seemed to accept this answer, and she began twirling around as they walked to the doors in front of them. 'This is just hunky doory and all that spit. The last thing I need is Drusilla hungrier than usual. A year ago, she almost got caught more times than I care remember. God, I can see her picking off the bloody pilot...'

She stopped short suddenly and fell to the ground, clutching her head. Travelers around her gave her weird looks as she moaned on the cement floor of the parking garage. Ignoring them all, Spike knelt beside her as placed a careful hand on her shoulder, as not to disturb her or her vision. "Dru, Pet? What do you see?" Soon, the little whimpers ceased and she started laughing gently as she did when Angel was first brought back to their side in January. Drusilla craned her head up to look at the cement ceiling as she asked, "Do you know why I love airports so much?" Knowing that it's best to play along with her, Spike helped her up and replied, "No, why are they such fun?"

"Because..." she trailed off as she walked away. Spike jogged a few paces to catch up with her and asked, "Because what, baby?" Shrugging, she continued, "Because there are so many places she can go, but there's are one that shell choose. Only one." Confused, Spike said, "Baby, that's all well and good, but we already know that the little wretch is going to Ireland. Remember? This morning?" He took her gently by the hand and tugged her towards the main doors. "That's why, pet," he continued, "we have to hurry along. The sooner we get there, the less time shell have to leave..."

Stopping again, Drusilla shook her head wildly and moaned, "You don't... understand. She's going to Angel. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...ashes to ashes, dust to dust..." People once again watched the odd couple as Spike moved towards the whimpering Drusilla. "Darling, we know were kill her, too. Member? I promised you Id hurt her for hurting...your Angel, and..." He trailed off as he realized what she was trying to tell him. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Of course. The Slayers gonna go see his grave...why?" Smiling, she whispered, "She is Juliet. Juliet is all alone, now."

"Shakespeare; never did like that bluke. Was all too touchy-freely-wordy if you ask me. Although, it does bring up an interesting question: would our high and mighty Buffy Summers go out and slay herself on her Angel's grave out of remorse? This is too great!" Smile fading, he dragged Drusilla at a quicker speed. "We've got to get there before she does. There's no bloody way I'm going to miss out on a chance to end this bitch's life."

As they reached the doors and walked in, Spike immediately dropped his beloved's hand and placed it angrily on his own hips. "Bloody hell! *Now* I remember why I can't stand this place...It's a friggn' maze!" Telling Drusilla to stay put, he made his way up to a map of the entire airport and growled his way into the crowd in front of it. Scrunching his face in confusion, Spike muttered, "Damn, I don't know where the hell I'm supposed to go." He moved out of the group harshly and went back to where he had last seen Dru; she wasn't there. Putting a hand to his head, Spike was about to begin searching for her when she came walking over to him, Mickey Mouse ears upon her head.

Eyebrow raised, Spike asked, "Pet...where did you get those? Tell me you didn't eat someone in the middle of the bloody international airport with who knows who watching and listening? Drusilla shook her head and smiled, "A little boy lost this when a demon came up and scared him. He threw this and ran away." Not entirely believing her story, Spike said, "Dru, behave yourself and I promise I'll find you something good to eat that's *out of the way* of the sweaty masses. Now, I have to find-" Spike stopped short as his gaze landed upon a fellow demon who was crossing the aisle to meet them. "Oh no, it's that damned Whistler. Run, baby!"

They took off just as he was approaching them. Watching as the duo fled, Whistler nodded. "That's it then. Tomorrow, the Slayer dies. Poor kid, I really kinda liked her." Shrugging it off, he headed out the terminal doors, hoping to catch a bus back to Sunnydale before dawn.

* * *

It was absolutely terrible; echoing in her mind and brutally beating against her eardrums. After long, sustained minutes of this piercing torture, Buffy and the other passengers on the flight sighed with relief. The baby who's frightened wails had sounded throughout the airplane had ceased his crying in favor of falling asleep his mothers arms. Enjoying the peace, Buffy felt it was time for some desperately needed rest of her own. She cuddled against the seat, trying to ignore the heavy breathing of the elderly gentleman beside her.

Pushing the hurt from her mind, she started to drift into a deep sleep without being plagued by the memories of earlier that day. However, the guilt would not be denied, and it surfaced once more as unconsciousness took over. Opening her eyes to the Sunnydale of the dream world, Buffy found herself standing in front of a familiar apartment door. She did not move, unsure as of what to do. What should she expect on the other side of that portal? Angelus might be behind it, ready and able to verbally degrade her once again. On the other hand, her Angel, the one she had always known, could be waiting for her to appear.

Curiosity got the best of her, and she twisted the smooth, round knob. Buffy gasped immediately at the sight before, falling to her knees simultaneously in grief and guilt. There Angel stood, or rather *hung*, feet and arms bound to a hastily built cross. Glancing at her surroundings, she realized that she was back in the vampires mansion, the large religious symbol standing where Acathla once had. 'Why here?' she thought, loathing that she had to be in this room again. Angel looked at her, very much in pain, as he mumbled, "Buffy..." Her name continued to seep out of his mouth repeatedly, and she said, "Angel, God...I'm sorry...I-I did this to you. I..."

Getting up quickly, Buffy attempted to reach him, but an invisible force field prevented her from freeing him. A voice in the distance whispered to her that this was what Angel was truly going through in Hell; his entire back of his body being burned by the holy object he was tied to. Hating herself even more, she screamed, "Angel, I'm so sorry! It was my duty; I wanted to tell you, but...I couldn't. Angel, I love you! Believe me!" Her voice failed her after that, sobs preventing her from making any other sounds. As she brought her eyes up to Angels, she was startled to see that the sadness was gone, replaced by hatred. Weakly, he was able to mutter, "You are not forgiven, Buffy."

Buffy could only stare at him. "W-what?" Grimacing at the pain which coursed through him, he replied, "You did this to me; you betrayed me...Slayer, know this: forever shall I burn in Hell -still alive- and I shall always rue the day I decided to assist you in your duty. And when you join me here, and you *will*, rest assured I'll be the first in line to torture you. I look forward to that day, Buffy." As quickly as it had begun, it was over, and Buffy's mind emerged from the abyss it had been in.

Crying, she did not care who saw her, or what they must think of her. She knew only the heartache right now, as she would until she or some random vampire ended her miserable existence. The nightmare was his final message to her; Angel did not for give her. Gone was, the warmth, the security, and the love that had once been so existent in their lives. Everything was over, and she decided it was long past the time to end this pain that ate at her soul. She could only pray that the city of Galway still left its historical cemetery in peace, just as Angel once told her it had.

* * *

Meanwhile, a single hooded demon was taunting the real Angel in the underworld, enjoying the agony that he displayed over the latest torment. "My, my, Angelus, you seem a little distraught. I was under the impression you'd simply *adore* the lovely little dream we sent your gal." Floating up to the crucified vampire, it said patronizingly, "Was I wrong?" Angel, too weak from the physical pain, and too drained from his own mental anguish was barely able to spit out, "You sadistic bastard."

The hooded menace smiled, as best a true thing of evil is able to. "Well, thank you for the compliment. It's refreshing to know that our labors haven't been for nothing." Drifting even closer to Angel, it continued, "You know, originally we had a much bigger show lined up for your sweetheart. I mean, were talkin' blood, carnage...much more soul crushing remarks from you. Would have been a real dowser. Alas, the hands of the heavens intercepted it. Said that the Slayer knows too much pain, already, or some other bull suit. Do you see what I go through? Anyway, we *were* able to sneak some of the original nightmare to her, though. The angels weren't expecting her to sleep on the plane, so they let their guards down. You snooze, you lose."

Angel dropped his head in defeat. His beautiful one, his Buffy, thought that he blamed her for everything: the night of her birthday, the Acathla episode...At least he remembered what had happened just prior to his banishment into Hell. He knew now that Buffy only sent him here because she was forced to, not out of want to kill him. It allowed him some sort of peace; the knowledge that he was not betrayed filled him with calmness he desperately clung to. Her love was all that kept him sane in this place.

Scowling, the pint-size demon floated away and put the ugly appendages that resembled arms onto him mid-section. "Angel, Angel, Angel; lest you forget that we can sense your thoughts. What's rule number one, again? NO HAPPINESS, CONTENTMENT, PEACEFULNESS, OR THE LIKE MAY ENTER YOUR MIND AT *ANY* TIME!! I'm afraid that its time for a round of guess how your Slayer bitch is gonna wind up in a *spot* of trouble." Snapping its bony fingers, it cursed, "Oh, shoot, you've already played this one." It waved a deformed hand and Buffy's future was once again playing out before him. As Angel began to sob in spite of himself, the demon grinned, "Oh well, lets play anyway."

* * *

"Spike, the chills are coming to get me." The two lovers sat in the freezing cargo hold of a large airplane headed for Ireland. They had snuck on-board after Drusilla pulled another stunt in the middle of the LAX airport. Right now, Spike regarded her with a moments anger, but it washed away as he met her pathetic, begging eyes. He stripped his long coat off, despite his own shivers, and wrapped it around her shoulders. Who ever said vampires don't feel the cold outta be gutted, he thought bitterly. Brushing some fallen strands of hair from her eyes, Spike leaned in to brush his lips against hers.

Suddenly, a loud growl sounded throughout the hold. Turning towards the section of the compartment that held the animals in cages, he glared at the German Shepherd whose lips were furled in dislike of the vampires. Spike swore under his breath before saying, "The bloody mutt is awake, again. I swear I'm gonna snap its neck if it doesn't shut its yap soon." As if responding to the challenge, the dog began barking loudly, the fur on its back standing on end. "All right, you asked for it..." Spike muttered as his face shifted into his vampire visage.

Drusilla placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "Now, now, kitten, we don't want to hurt the poor little thing. It reminds me of Sunshine..." Looking back and forth between his lover and the demon dog, he wondered what likeness there was with it and the yipping, ankle-biting nuisance they'd left in Sunnily. Grudgingly, Spike growled once at the dog before returning to his human features.

He pulled Drusilla to lay in his lap as he said, "You know, Pet, we wouldn't even be in this situation if you hadn't gone and drained that entire family while I was getting tickets. This plane is going to land at night; we would have been just dandy with the other passengers. Instead, were stuck with Cerberus over there in this reverse Hell." Shrugging in his lap, she replied, "But you said you hated walking around the whole airport. So, Miss Edith told me to kill the rich people because they had a cart."

"Ducks, Miss Edith is still is Sunnydale. She couldn't have told you anything. Besides, we almost got to sit in first bloody class." Drusilla smiled. "I can hear her, and she told me to hurt them. Just like my Angel would have hurt them, but the Slayer took him from us." Hating the mention of that subject, Spike said, "Listen, we've covered this before; the Slayer dies as soon as we find her, and I promise you, you may do with her as you wish. Deal?"

Reaching a hand to caress his face, she said, "Of course," and brought him down for a kiss. Their mouths moved slowly together as Spike repositioned himself to move his hands over her back. Things went no further as they we interrupted by another series of barks, followed by a sustained growl. Morphing his face yet again, Spike leapt off Drusilla and charged the cage. "That's the bloody last straw..."

* * *

Next morning, library

The group of Slayerettes had assembled, once more, including a more collected Joyce. However, Xander's disposition remained appalling, the notion of reviving Angel filling him with dread and a hint of guilt. His dislike of the situation was apparent in his voice as he spoke, "So, let me get this straight: this ritual involves Willow putting herself in harm's way *again* for Dead Boy? Remind me why this is such a brilliant plan because, I gotta tell ya, my life is going pretty good with everyone's least favorite vampire wiped from the face of the earth."

Willow, who had been scowling at Xander's attitude all morning, glared at her friend and asked, "What is your problem? Come off it, Xand. If you want Buffy back, Angel could be our only hope." The boy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, enough already, Princess Leia. God, did any of you think to check the passenger lists at the bus depot or the airport?" Seeing that his girlfriend was rapidly becoming more and more stressed, Oz said, "Willow hacked into both, but neither had a Buffy Summers listed. Even if she did register, who's to say that we could convince her to come back?"

"Who needs convincing? We just hog-tie her and drag her into the weapon's cage. Leave her there for a few days, and she'll see the error of her ways." Joyce stared and Xander and said, "You really should have more concern for her. How do you know what she's going through?" As he was preparing his answer, Willow cut him off. "No, Xander, don't you *dare* try and bull shit a response to that. You don't have a clue what its like."

His face glazed with a touch of hurt, he said, "What, last year...Spring Fling ring any bells for you? Remember how Buffy rejected me for her undead boo?" Willow would have slapped him had she the ability to walk over to him. "You jerk, that's *nothing* like what she's feeling..." Suddenly, Giles appeared before them and said, "Willow, Xander, calm down. Arguing is no way to get Buffy back. I believe we have already covered why this is necessary. She needs him, Xander. Accept that. If you don't want to be a part of this, I implore you to get out of the library this instant. I will not have you jeopardizing the outcome of this ritual due to your resentfulness of Angel's relationship with Buffy."

With a sharp look in his direction, Willow stared Xander in the eyes while saying, "Don't worry, Giles, Xander would never let his feelings get in the way of what has to be done." Xander's eyes popped open wide as her words registered in his mind. Deciding it was wise to stay quiet, he sat still as the conversation swelled around him. The ritual would be held at midnight, and Willow would say the incantations. Fear for the girls life was the only thing driving him to be there, tonight. That, and his guilty conscious was eating him alive. He figured he owed it to Buffy to try and act civilized to Angel, at least for a little while.

Giles finished describing the ceremony and let them go about their Saturday morning. As soon as Xander and Cordelia had exited the library, he turned to Willow and asked, "Is something the matter with Xander? He seems to be more spiteful of Angel then ever...well, I-I guess I can imagine why, yet...there seems to be something else. I can't put my finger on it..." Shrugging, Willow said, "I've known him for a long time, Giles. Hell come out of this, you'll see." Even as she spoke the words, Willow wasn't sure about what would happen in their future. Slayer or not, she had a sinking feeling that Xander was not going to snap back into his old self right away; things were just getting too complicated.

* * *

Old Catholic cemetery, Galway, Ireland

The graveyard was still in the chilling darkness of the Irish night. All around, the scenery was draped in an ebony black, the sun having set a while back. When Buffy had arrived at the airport, she had tried to find someone working there that spoke English well. Luckily, she did, and she got the locations of two cemeteries dating back to the eighteenth century. Buffy had tried one of them earlier on, but was unsuccessful. For her sake, she hoped this last burial ground had what she was looking for.

Old, intricate fences surrounded the perimeter of the cemetery, and she walked through the gates to cross into a world that, while it was centuries old, was all too familiar to her. The memories of slaying, both in Los Angeles and Sunnydale, flooded into her mind, pounding on the mental block that she had set up within herself. Images of Merrick and Giles begging her to slay, as was her duty, rose in her head. She hoped they would both be happy that she had done her duty at the mansion. Pushing the images of her two ex-Watchers out of her mind, Buffy continued up the main path of the large grave yard.

A gorgeous statue of the Virgin Mary looked over the graves of people buried here, time not stealing the artwork's beauty. With a gentle sigh, Buffy set about walking the scores of headstones lining the somewhat small cemetery. She cringed every time she walked by a grave of a small child, knowing that early-life deaths were common place, but the reality of it not coming into focus until now. Pausing for a moment, Buffy attempted to rub the jet lag out of her eyes, but did not succeed. If she didn't find what she had come for soon, she would book herself a motel to get a little shut-eye before continuing her search for older cemeteries. Silently, she prayed that Angels was still existent, and that all she need do is find it.

After walking a few minutes, Buffy found a string of graves with the same date of death: 1753. Speaking to herself as she walked along, she commented, "God, the plague really wasn't something to be trifled with. Must have been...really...tough..."' Her voice trailed off as she came across a headstone with the same family name as those who had all died the same year. Buffy stared at the name, Angelus, and the birth date which coincided with her Angel's own. It was then that she realized this mans death occurred merely days before the rest of his family's. A flashback of the time she had learned Angels true identity her played in her head, '...and then you attacked my family.'

'Why not? I killed mine. I killed their friends, and their friends children. For a hundred years I offered an ugly death to everyone I met, and I did it with a song in my heart.' As Buffy's eyes scanned the headstones, the words rang in the back of her head, 'I killed mine...' Kneeling before her lover's grave, Buffy whispered his name into the darkness that surrounded her. "Angel." It was a plea for help, a declaration of love, and it was uttered with a finality that even she did not expect.

Staring at the words foreign words on his headstone that were most likely written in the old Celtic language, Buffy began to speak to him in a haunted voice, "Angel, I cannot...I can't tell you how sorry I am; sorry that I was the cause of you losing your soul, sorry that I sent you to Hell. You left this world with love in your heart for me, a love that I really...I really don't deserve. Know this, Angel: I except full responsibility for everything that you did in Sunnydale. Had it not been for me, you never would have lost your soul, and, um, a-as for the whole nightmare on the plane...I hope it was just my own guilt playing tricks on me. I-I don't think you could *ever* be that cruel-hearted."

She reached into her pocket and dug out a stake, turning it around in her hands as she said, "This is Mr. Pointy. Kendra lent it to me b-before she died. I'm not Catholic, o-or much of any religion, anymore, Angel. I just don't have the time to go to church, but, um, I've heard through Xand that suicide is supposed to be like a damnation." Laughing almost bitterly, she continued, "Like I'm not already damned for sending you to Hell, but...I've saved the world a couple times, here and there, and I figured I needed an extra check to get me to where you are. I love you, Angel." The words barely off her tongue, Buffy lifted the stake, shaky in her quivering hands, up to her own heart. Eyes closed, she prepared to drive it home when she heard a cocky voice shout, "My, my, the Slayer's gone all suicidal on us. Wasn't that the bloody saddest monologue you ever heard?"

'God, not him, *please* anyone but him.' Her plea was turned down as she stood up and turned to face the speaker. Wearing an over-confident grin, Spike swung an arm over Drusilla's velvet-clad shoulder as he added, "Hello, Pet." He noticed how much older she looked since he had last saw her at the mansion. Commenting on this, he asked, "What the Hell happened to you? Time was, if you had a pretty little stake in your hand, you would have rushed me for even talking to ya. Well, that or you'd start spouting off some usual Slayer banter.

Ignoring his question, Buffy gritted her teeth and practically growled, "What do you want, Spike?" The smile on his face growing bigger, he said, "Now, *there's* the fire I miss...Okay, why are we here? Tell her, baby." Drusilla swept her hand in front of her, gesturing to the grave Buffy stood by. "We couldn't miss the Slayer slaying herself on top of our Angels own grave. To see the blood flying into the air and covering the land..."

"What Dru means to say is that how could possibly let the lovely Slayer off herself when there are plenty of other people that would probably pay good money to do it themselves? I could dress you up, all pretty like, and take you back to Sunnily. Whole mess of us that would love to see you die a slow and painful death. But what do I really want, Slayer? I want to have one last show down with the mighty Buffy Summers, the slayer who killed the Master and Angelus...before I add other tally under, 'Number of Slayers I have gutted.'"

With a hard glare, Buffy tossed Mr. Pointy to the ground and stood firmly, arms crossed at her chest. "Spike, I don't think the Slayer wants to play, today. She's all sad." Drusilla whimpered like a child before continuing, "Spike, make her happy so we can kill her. Do it for Princess?" Before Spike could answer his lover, Buffy closed the gap between herself and the vampires. "No, Dru, believe me, I *want* to play. It's a little game I made up. It's called, "Lets See What Buffy's Blood Tastes Like." After a quizzical look from Spike, Buffy tilted her head to the side and said earnestly, "Go head, Spike, trust me, I want stop you...kill me."

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