"Jenny, Angel's hungry. Feed him please, dear," Mrs.MacComb said.
Buffy was so tired of that cat.
"Come here, cat. Here, cat, cat," Buffy said.
Mrs. MacComb could sense for some time now that her houseguest was harboring some negative feelings for her surroundings. She watched the girl sulk every day and wished she could help her.
"I have been thinking that you will take care of Angel when I'm not around anymore," Mrs. MacComb said, trying to make the girl feel needed.
"I've already taken care of Angel," Buffy said, slipping, her words filled with a venomous self-hatred.
Mrs. MacComb was shocked. She could hardly believe the girl's rudeness. Buffy looked up at her surprised expression.
"Oh, no, Mrs.MacComb, I didn't mean it that way, really," she said. "Uh, uh, I say things sometimes that give people that face, and I don't mean them. I meant that I could never take care of your cat as well as you."
In an instant, the old woman had realized the girl was ready to know who was really standing before her.
"How did it finally happen?," the woman said to Buffy.
Buffy was perplexed. This woman was having a case of the wiggings.
"How did what finally happen?," Buffy said.
"The world has obviously not been swallowed up into the pit of hell, so I am assuming that you killed Angelus," Mrs. MacComb said.
Buffy dropped Angel and the cat scurried away, squealing. The old woman had taken on a curious expression, with a new found strength burning in her eyes. She seemed to be getting younger somehow.
"What did you say?," Buffy said.
Mrs.MacComb stood up and walked toward Buffy.
"I had a feeling about you when I first saw you, dear. You had an aura about you that was most intriguing. Do you think I let strangers into my house when I'm so old? No, child, you had something that was familiar to me," she said.
Buffy sat at the table.
"Please don't make me talk about this," she said. "Please. I don't want to remember."
She buried her head in her hands and began to sob.
"You have to remember," the old woman said, laying a hand on the young girl's shoulder. "It's the only way you'll be able to move on."
Mrs. MacComb's hand felt warm on her shoulder, and Buffy began to sense an inner peace taking over her sorrow.
"What do you know about everything and who are you?," she said.
The old woman poured her some water, and when she handed it to Buffy, Buffy noticed her hand seemed to be less wrinkled than usual.
"Thank you," Buffy said, staring at the hand. When she looked up at the old woman's face, Buffy was shocked.
Mrs. MacComb's hair had turned from pure white to gray.
"Why are you getting younger? What is going on here?," she said, dropping her drink.
The old woman smiled at her and said, "You should sit, dearest. I'll explain everything to you but you need to tell me about your experience, since I wasn't there to see it myself."
Buffy glared at her.
"Why would you be? Please, you're confusing me here," she said.
"Buffy, do you remember the Whistler?," Mrs. MacComb said.
"That little demon thing that harassed me while I was trying to do my job? Yeah, I do. He's connected to Angelus. Wait, how do you know my name? Or do you just know everything about me?" Buffy said.
"I'll explain. The Whistler is connected to me, too. I'm one of his kind, and he sent me here to take care of you, and to help you let go of the misery you have been harboring," she said.
Buffy looked at her, unwilling to believe.
"You're not real. I'm waking up now. I swear. When I wake up that stupid cat is going to be sitting on my bed and I'm going to kick it off like I do every morning. You're not here."
The woman touched her hand.
"I'm more real than you are at this moment, Buffy," she said.
Buffy began to sob.
"Don't you understand I don't want to remember this anymore? I killed the man that I love, ok? My mother disowned me! I never got anything good out of being a slayer at all. I got killed even! I don't want to do it anymore!"
