Angel deposited Buffy on her doorstep and looked at her with growing concern. "Are you sure you can make it in okay?" he asked her.
"Oh, sure I'm fine," Buffy muttered, still leaning on him heavily.
Angel raised an eyebrow at her skeptically before opening the door and helping her inside. "Let's get you upstairs," he said to her gently, wishing he could feel temperatures so he could see if she had one.
Buffy looked as though she wanted to protest, but didn't quite have the strength to. "Okay," she said finally, allowing him to carry her upstairs and into her bedroom. Angel laid her down on the bed gently and kissed her on the forehead.
"Stay home tomorrow, okay?" he beseeched her. "I don't think you should be going out, you still have to face Maura, you have to be as strong as possible."
"Don't worry about me," she told him firmly. "I'll be fine." Buffy didn't add the 'at least, physically', but she definitely wanted to. Angel sighed but didn't say anything else as he turned to leave. "Angel?" Buffy called, stopping him. He turned back to her. "Sweet dreams," she said softly.
"You to," Angel replied just as softly, as similar memories flashed through their minds. Then Angel was gone, and Buffy sighed softly and turned around, clutching the stuffed pig she had begun sleeping with every night close to her. Within seconds she was asleep.
* * *
"Have you seen Buffy?" Giles asked as Willow walked into the library the next morning. The small hacker had dark circles under her eyes, and her clothing was mis matched at best as she looked up at him.
"She called me this morning," Willow answered. "She's not feeling well, and she decided to stay home."
Giles muttered something incomprehensible underneath his breath and headed towards the back and his telephone, then turned back around to look at Willow again. "Willow," he started, "you're not helping anyone by blaming yourself."
Willow closed her eyes for a moment. "Giles . . . you don't know what happened. Cordelia ran from the library because she saw Xander and I kissing."
Giles' eyes widened. "She . . . she did?" he asked, staring at her.
Willow nodded shakily. "Mhmm. I told him that I was in love with him, that he shouldn't be dating her because she was probably just using him . . . this is my fault. If I hadn't told Xander the truth none of this would have ever happened."
Giles walked towards her and lifted her chin up with one hand. "Willow, that's absolutely ridiculous. Cordelia's death was a horrible and tragic event, but it was no one's fault except for the Chosen. It wasn't yours, or Xander's, or Angel's, or Buffy's. Blaming yourself is not going to bring her back, and it's certainly not doing you or anyone else any good."
"You're right," Willow said softly. "But that doesn't change anything. It may not be my fault, but it feels like it's my fault. And Xander . . . God, he's never going to be able to look at me again . . . "
"That's not true, either," Giles said sternly. "You and Xander have been friends for a very long time, yes?" Willow nodded. "I'm sure your friendship will survive this."
"I hope you're right," Willow replied with a thin smile. "I have to go to class." She turned and left the library, and Giles watched her go sadly. In truth he also missed Cordelia, with her flippant remarks and her occasionally brilliant ideas. When she had actually applied herself she'd been a valuable asset to the Slayer, and she'd always been there when she was needed, protests not withstanding, she had been an excellent ally. Her death was tearing everyone apart, ripping at the seams that held the Slayerette's together, and that worried Giles more than anything. No one seemed able to accept that what happened to Cordelia was tragic, but there was no one to blame except for the vampire that had killed her. No one could have possibly known what would happen, but no one seemed able to accept that, either. In short, no one was recovering.
With a sigh Giles turned back towards his office and dialed a familiar phone number. He waited several rings before finally someone answered. "Hello?" a sleepy male voice asked.
"Angel? It's Giles. I believe I might have found something."
"That's nice," Angel muttered.
Giles began to launch into a lengthy explanation. "According to a book on ancient socities the chosen one is a tradition that has been around as long as there have been slayers. Just as there have always been slayers since there were vampires, there has always been the chosen. Although the chosen only comes once in a century, the institution for the chosen was set up long before that. If this book is correct a human is chosen to become the chosen of the vampire's, and therefore Darla probably did not know when she made you a vampire that Maura was the chosen vampire. When she did find out after you had killed her she naturally made her a vampire as well, and immediately she was sent to train. I can't think of any other way to explain it except as a kind of military school for vampires. The training the chosen goes through is extensive and very well-rounded. Darla probably did not tell you about Maura's destiny because she feared you might want to contact her, and that would throw the whole idea of the chosen and her isolation out of the window. The chosen is supposed to have no contact with other vampires except for what the Master dictates." Giles paused, and when there was no reply became puzzled. "Angel? Are you there?"
"What? Uh-huh, yeah, I'm here," Angel replied quickly, still sounding exhausted. Giles smirked in amusement, realizing that the vampire had slept through his description.
"Are you awake enough to actually listen to me, now?" Giles inquired.
"I heard you!" Angel protested.
"Do you want to know why Darla didn't tell you about making Maura a vampire or not?" Giles queried harshly.
"Fine, I'm listening," Angel sighed, and Giles once again began to explain.
* * *
Xander sat in class across from Willow and stared at the teacher listlessly, his thoughts far away from the lecture his teacher was going through as his mind flashed back to snatches of conversation between Cordelia and him.
"Me? I'm not the one who embraced the black arts just to get the girls to like me. Well, congratulations, it worked!"
"I can't believe that I'm stuck spending what will probably be my last few moments on earth here with you!"
"Please! It's to traumatic for me to even say it!"
"You mean the spell was for me?"
"I bet you wouldn't! I bet you'd let a girl go off to her doom all by herself!"
"I'm gonna what . . . ? Coward!"
"Harmony, shut up. Do you know what you are, Harmony? You're a sheep. . . . You're a sheep! All you ever do is what everyone else does just so you can say you did it first. Here I am scrambling for your approval when I am way cooler than you are cause I'm not a sheep. I do what I wanna do and I wear what I wanna wear and you know what? I'll date whoever the hell I wanna date . . . No matter how lame he is."
"If we die in here I'm gonna kick your ass, I mean it!"
"Mr. Harris?!" The teacher's annoyed voice snapped Xander out of his thoughts and he looked up in surprise.
"Yeah?" he asked, wondering what he'd missed.
"What is the answer to number five?" the teacher asked again. Xander automatically looked towards Willow, who looked surprised for a moment before she held up four of her fingers.
"Four?" Xander asked hopefully.
Willow shook her head adamantly and the teacher frowned. "Did you do this problem, Mr. Harris?"
Xander looked back towards Willow, who then held up eight of her fingers. "Yes! It's, um, fourty-eight?"
The teacher nodded. "Fourty eight is correct. How did you arrive at that answer?"
Xander blanched and his eyes widened. "Um . . . uh . . . "
"That's what I thought," the teacher replied coolly. "I would like to speak with you after class, Xander," he said dryly before turning his attention back to the lesson at hand. Xander sighed and put his head in his hands before casting a grateful look towards Willow, then his eyes widened and he immediately turned away as he realized he'd forgotten in the last few minutes about Cordelia's death and what Willow had told him only four nights ago. Swallowing and looking slightly shocked, he closed his eyes for a long moment and tried to push the thoughts from his mind once more.
* * *
Buffy moaned softly and turned over on the bed as she felt the beginnings of a pounding headache intrude on her peaceful slumber. A voice resonated in her head, becoming louder with each passing second until it was all she could hear. "Slayer . . . ? Are you there little slayer?"
Buffy moaned again and pulled the pillow up over her head, but the action didn't cause the voice to die, if anything it only sounded louder and more intense. "Slayer . . . "
"What!?" Buffy mumbled to herself in agony.
"I'm in your mind . . . I know your thoughts."
Buffy suddenly sat upright in bed as she recognized the voice from four nights ago . . . it was Maura, the Chosen One. "What do you want?" she said aloud, waiting for the reply to echo in her mind.
"I want it finished," the voice replied. "Fight me or another one of your little friends goes."
"You sadistic . . . "
"It's up to you. Either fight me and face the consequences, or accept that the life of another one of your friends is forfeit. You decide."
"When and where?" Buffy asked aloud.
"Tonight, at the park." The voice left her head, leaving Buffy's ears ringing and her headache growing in spades as she shakily stood and walked towards the phone, dialing the library's number. To her immense annoyance she found it was busy and she barely managed to make it down the stairs, clutching the banister for support as she arrived in the kitchen and opened the medicine cabinet, taking out a bottle of aspirin and swallowing one of them with a small sip of water before returning to the phone and dialing again.
"Hello?" Giles' voice answered on the second ring.
"Giles, it's me," Buffy said weakly. "Are you there?"
"Yes, Buffy, what is it?"
Buffy swallowed. "The Chosen . . . she just talked to me . . . Giles, she got inside my head, she was talking to me in my head! You didn't tell me she could do that."
"I . . . I didn't know she could. What - what did she say?"
"It's not important," Buffy answered, not wanting Giles to know that she was going to fight Maura tonight. Somehow she doubted he would approve of it, considering that she was sick, but she knew she had no choice, she couldn't allow anyone else to die, certainly not if she could prevent it. "I just thought you should know." Buffy hung up the phone before Giles could ask any more questions.
* * *
"Mr. Harris, I'm afraid that your grades have dropped dramatically in the past week. They weren't all that high to begin with, actually, but as of late they've been more pathetic than normal," Xander's science teacher said to him coolly.
Xander swallowed and shifted slightly. "I - I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'll try to do better."
"I'd appreciate that, Mr. Harris," the teacher said. "I am aware that recent events make one less inclined to concentrate on ones studies, however that is not an excuse for not doing homework, in my opinion. It's not as if you actually knew the girl who died."
Xander's eyes flashed as he stared at the teacher. "I didn't know her?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow.
The science teacher rolled his eyes. "Do you realize how many students have come up to me to tell me how depressed they were over Miss. Chase's death? I'm sorry, but I'm not buying it as an explanation. You do the work you were assigned, and that's that. Are we understood?"
Again it took an extreme effort of will for Xander to not hit the man across the face. Instead he nodded meekly and hurried from the room before he gave into temptation. Willow was waiting for him outside. "We . . . we need to talk, Xander," she said softly.
Xander sighed. "Willow, please," he begged. "Not now."
"Then when?" she asked. "God, Xander, you have to know that I'm so sorry . . . I never wanted this to happen, I . . . "
Xander nodded. "I know, Willow. I do. But I can't deal with this right now. Okay? I need some time."
Willow bit the inside of her lip and nodded hesitantly. "Okay," she said softly, and turned around to walk in the other direction. Xander watched her go and part of him wanted to call out to her, and lean on her strength as he'd always done in the past. Instead he walked away as well.
* * *
Giles groaned in frustration as another ten rings passed with still no answer. "Damn it, pick up the phone!" he growled at the receiver, pacing back and forth. With a sigh he hung the phone up violently and picked it up again to dial a different number.
"Giles, go away!" Angel begged as he picked up the phone, not even bothering with a hello.
"This is important," Giles told him firmly. "Buffy's just received a communication from the Chosen telepathically. I fear she may have decided to fight her tonight."
"She can't!" Angel protested, suddenly wide awake. "She's sick . . . she'll never win!"
"I know that," Giles replied sharply. "I can't get through to her, she's not answering her phone. She called to tell me that she'd spoken with Maura, and now she's not picking up the receiver. I fear she's getting ready to face the Chosen."
"I don't believe her," Angel muttered. "Don't worry, I'll handle it," he added, hanging up the phone. Giles sighed again and closed his eyes for a long moment, silently praying that Buffy wouldn't be stupid enough to walk knowingly into her death.
* * *
Buffy looked at herself in the mirror and sighed, trying to make the world stay in one place long enough for her to put her shirt on, at least. She had five more hours until sundown, and they were passing at a slow crawl. She didn't want to risk going back to bed, she was worried she might not wake up in time if she did.
Sighing she listened to the phone ring a few times before picking it up, pressing down on the hang-up button, then placing the phone next to her dresser, leaving it off the hook. After another ten minutes she managed to put her shirt on and button it. She contemplated doing her hair, then decided against it. She was going to fight a vampire after all, not going to a huge party.
The hours passed by slowly, but eventually the sun did set and Buffy stood, stretching her aching muscles and blinking back a wave of dizziness. She was definitely coming down with something, most likely the flu, and this was majorly not a good thing. Ignoring it, she walked towards the window and slid down the roof and onto the ground, then began heading towards the park.
When she arrived the only light was from the crescent moon, and Buffy walked towards the bench and sat down, looking around and swinging her feet back and forth with impatience. She would have thought the Chosen One would at least know how to be on time.
"Well," a voice called, causing Buffy to jump, "if it isn't the slayer."
Buffy turned and fought against a wave of dizziness as she stared at the Chosen. "So . . . you ready to fight or are we just going to talk all night?"
Maura smirked, the picture of beauty with the moon glinting off her night black hair. "I would have thought you'd rather talk," she said with a small smile. "After all, I'm sure your watcher has told you that no slayer has ever defeated one of my kind."
"That's a nice way of putting assasin," Buffy muttered. "'One of your kind' my foot. I've defeated hundreds of your kind, you're no different."
Maura raised an eyebrow. "I've been preparing for this night for two hundred years. You haven't even been preparing two weeks."
"Well, I might be better equipt to fight you if you weren't such a coward that you can't face me when I'm at my full strength. No, you have to wait till I'm at my weakest. And then when I still kick your ass you run away and feed off a defensless girl."
"Please," Maura said coolly, taking a step forwards. "You only won last time because my husband was here to defend you. He's not here now. It's just you and me."
"Well, we can't leave the quote unfinished," Buffy protested. "'Soon it will be just me'. There, I feel better now, how about you?"
"You think you can hide behind your flippant remarks?" Maura asked. "You are nothing. You can't defeat me, so I'm supposed to be so impressed by your wit that I let you live? Has that worked on even one vampire?" She shook her head. "Never mind. I'm not one for feeble banter."
Buffy looked slightly taken aback for a moment, remembering the Master using that same term, then smiled. "Fine. You ready to fight, then?"
"More than ready," Maura replied, and, with those words of warning, her face transformed and she jumped towards the Slayer.
* * *
Angel looked behind the back alley of the Bronze and sighed in frustration, wondering where Maura might have chosen to fight Buffy. He could only think of one other location, the park, and he silently prayed that he was correct. If he couldn't find them he certainly would be unable to help Buffy, and he knew without a doubt that Buffy would lose. All the other slayers had lost to the Chosen, and they had at least been at their best physical strength, if not mental. Buffy, on the other hand, was both physically and emotionally weak, she didn't stand a chance against her, and Angel knew it.
He began to make his way towards the park, fingering the stake he held in his left hand thoughtfully. Angel knew that if he was going to help Buffy it could very well come down to him killing the chosen, and he wasn't entirely sure he could do it. In many ways it was reminiscent of Darla, made only that much harder because Darla had signified the beginning of his life as a vampire, Maura signified his life before hand, before Darla. He wasn't sure if he had the strength to kill her, even though he knew intellectually that she wasn't the same woman he'd known.
Walking into the park, he saw the pair fighting not ten paces away. As he looked on Maura ripped the stake Buffy held from her hand and, growling, forced her neck forwards as she sank her fangs into the soft flesh that waited. All thoughts of Maura's significance in his past life vanished from Angel's mind and he reacted instinctively, leaping forward and slamming the stake into Maura's heart. Much to Angel's relief she did not turn around, did not say his name, did not look at him with betrayal in her eyes, but instead sank to the ground, evaporating into a pile of ashes.
To Angel's surprise he didn't care. At least, not yet. Kneeling down beside Buffy he gently touched her cheek. "Buffy?" he called softly. "Buffy, can you hear me?"
Buffy's eyelids fluttered open and she stared at him and blinked twice. "A - Angel?" she muttered.
"Come on," he said, lifting her into his arms once again. "We need to get you to a hospital."
"No," Buffy protested, shaking her head. "No . . . they'll . . . they'll ask questions . . . and . . . and the truth is . . . well . . . bad . . . " she mumbled, curling her head against his chest.
Angel nodded in acknowledgment and changed directions, heading towards the school and hoping Giles had adequate supplies to heal the weakening slayer.
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