Disclaimer: Buffy, Angel, Spike, Dru and the rest of the Slayerettes belong to the creative genius of Joss Whedon. The ideas, as well as Star and Mr. O’Toole, are mine, so no copycats!
Author's Notes: See prologue. *As always, questions and comments are welcome at jhorizon77@yahoo.com
Part Five A
As night fell upon Sunnydale once more, enabling the undead community to stir, the self-proclaimed Slayerettes sat in the library awaiting the arrival of their final member. Willow glanced at her watch and shook her head. “Giles, I-I don’t like this. I mean, shouldn’t Angel be here by now? It’s been forty minutes since the sunset, and I kinda thought he’d be chomping at the bit to help us look for Buffy.”
The Watcher looked up from the text in his hands and smiled compassionately. “I understand your concern, Willow, but I believe it’s unwarranted. Just because he did not arrive precisely at sundown with bells on doesn’t mean that he’s necessary in any danger.”
Oz raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, ‘cause I don’t think bell-wear-age fits into Angel’s ‘I’m a demon,’ all-black thing he’s got goin’ on. That sounds kinda like Xander territory...No offensive, Cordelia.”
For the first time, Willow noticed that Xander was not there, and she actually found herself missing her childhood friend. She was pleased he had respected their request for a change, but something inside of her was beginning to regret kicking him out of their search group. They needed all the help they could get in finding their runaway Slayer. Meanwhile, Cordelia waved her hand at Oz’s comment and replied, “None taken. I am so not talking to that uncivilized creep-guy.”
“Yeah, but sucking face in utility closets is probably still fine by you, right Cordy?”
As she turned to stare at Willow, the former popular cheerleader of Sunnydale High said, “Excuse me?”
Willow’s eyes grew wide as she realized that the words she intended to keep to herself were actually spoken out loud. Considering the initial damage had already been done, Willow decided that she should run with what she had already started. “I-it’s just that before, even when you hated Xander, you made out all the time. I figured nothing had changed. He’s still got lips and a tongue, right?”
Her mouth hanging open, Cordelia shook her head and turned away from the girl in the wheelchair. Giles observed her reaction and asked, “Perhaps that was a bit too harsh, Willow? I’d imagine that Cordelia may be as upset at Xander as the rest of us are.”
Suddenly, the door swung open. All heads turned towards it, expecting Angel, but they did not find the vampire standing there. Joyce, staring severely at the boy who had helped bring about her daughter’s flee from Sunnydale, said, “I think you were told not to come back until further notice.”
Giles nodded curtly as he said, “I do believe she is correct, Xander. Neither I nor the rest of us wish you here, right now. Seeing as how Angel is due shortly, I strongly suggest you remove your person from this library post haste.”
While glancing nervously from one unfriendly face to the next, Xander tried to find an ally in the room. When he found none, he tried to appeal to the Watcher. “Giles, I-I think I saw Buffy. I mean, I’m not sure, but if you’ll just listen--”
“This is your final warning. I will not hesitate to physically remove you from the premises. Let me make this clear to you one last time. You are not welcome back until Buffy has been tracked down and brought here. If she can forgive you for the hell you have put her through, then I suppose I shall be able to. However, I won’t entertain the notion until I see that she is safe from harm. Good night.”
Xander turned away from the accusing faces of his friends and walked back out of the library like a whipped puppy with its tail between his legs. Once he had left, Joyce said, “Maybe we *should* have let him stay. He mentioned that he had seen Buffy somewhere.”
As he shook his head, Giles replied, “No, he *thought* he saw her back in Sunnydale. Guilt can prompt someone to see the face of the person they wronged everywhere. If Buffy is truly home, she will no doubt make her way here. Until then, I propose we begin searching for her without Angel. He’ll be along shortly, I presume, and I suspect he wouldn’t mind our head start.
“To that end, Willow -- even though I’d imagine you have already begun to search for Buffy’s name in travel companies on your own, I ask that you start you search on the Internet anew. If you can--...What’s the word?...*hack* into airlines, train corporations, bus depots, and rental car locations throughout southern California, that would be a great help. Make a list of any names you suppose could be an alias of Buffy’s. Oz -- I believe you’ll want to help her. Cordelia -- why don’t you get on the phone with some of the bus and airline companies and inquire if anyone as seen someone with Buffy’s description. Please try not to include ‘doesn’t have a good fashion sense.’ It would ruin the effect.”
Rolling her eyes, Cordelia got up and moved over to the phone, mumbling the entire way.
“Mr. Giles, what should I do to help?” asked an obviously stressed Joyce Summers.
With a smile, he responded, “I-it’s just Giles, really, and you needn’t do anything for the moment. When Angel arrives, we will talk with him about places we think Buffy might go. I hope that we can find a few solid leads so that when I leave for England in a few days, you all shall have some avenues to explore.”
Before Joyce had a chance to reply, the library doors swung open again to reveal a familiar figure. Clad in a pale blue long-sleeve shirt, a short gray skirt, and a broad grin, Buffy said, “Hey guys! Did you miss me?”
* * *
In the vacant classroom that used to belong to Ms. Calendar, Xander sat slouched in a corner on the cold, tile floor. He had been sitting in silence ever since he was kicked out of the library for the second time that week. Shaking slightly, Xander wondered just how long he had been in the foreboding room. He did not know what had driven him to come to the place where Ms. Calendar had spent her final moments. It had just seemed like a quiet place he could go to read their Slayer’s goodbye note. Now, however, he was having second thoughts. His good hand was clenched tightly around the white envelope with his name on the front. With the knowledge that it was Buffy’s last words to him hovering in his mind, he had found himself hesitating to open it. ‘Come on, Harris. You’ve been eating too many Twinkies, lately. All that non-food is starting to cloud your judgment. That was *not* Buffy you saw walking here. That was *not* Buffy you saw laughing it up with Spike and Drusilla. She may be upset, but she’d never run to those two. At least I don’t think she would.’
“Damn it...” he cursed out loud as he pocketed the letter. Xander put his head in his hands. With a loud sigh, he decided that he would not read it until he knew for sure that things could not go back to the way they used to be.
“Damn what?” came a new voice from the doorway.
Xander shook his head at his wretched luck. He knew that voice all too well. “What are you talkin’ about?”
After creeping into the room acting as though the very air inside could slaughter him in an instant, Angel replied, “Damn what? You just said, ‘Damn it.’ I was only trying to be nice to you, Xander. I won’t let it happen again.”
“Hey, guess what, man -- I don’t need your help. I’m fine, you know!”
Angel smirked; leave it to Xander’s foolishness to help him cheer up. Having heard their conversation on his way into the room, Whistler only needed to take one look at the teenager to know it was Xander. As he came to a stop next to Angel he said, “Yeah, buddy, and what a splendid party of one you’ve got, there.”
Xander stood up and threw his chest out in an attempt to seem more manly in front of the vampire with Buffy’s heart and this stranger who appeared to know the other very well. “God, Dead Boy, who’s the tiny guy in the weird hat? Friend of yours I take it? You all seem to have similar dispositions.”
His grin disappearing and returning to the pained expression that had adorned his face the entire day, Angel said, “This is Whistler, Xander. He helped me awhile back, and that’s all you need to know. I’m just not up to playing games, tonight.”
After deciding to pitch a curve ball at the vampire and one-up him for a change, Xander said, “I think I saw Buffy on the way over here. She was making with the nice with Spike and Dru. Should we be worried?”
Slowly shaking his head, Angel replied, “No, I wouldn’t be worried, Xander. I’d just be terrified...Yes, you did see Buffy with Spike and Dru. She’s--...Oh my God, how do I tell you this?”
Xander looked at the vampire’s expression and forgot all grudges that he usually held for him. There was something in his eyes that he feared. Just as he was about to urge Angel to continue, the vampire said, “She was brought across.”
“B-Buffy’s a vampire? How? I-I mean...Where is she now?”
A horrid scream sounded from down the hallway in a voice the teenager knew fondly. As he broke out into a run, Angel shouted hurriedly, “She’s here...Xander -- stay put. Whistler -- with me, *now*.”
Xander watched them dash out the door and into the murkiness of the unlit hallway. All he could do was hear Willow’s cry resonate in his ears while he stood helpless in the room where one of her friends at died. No one would be murdered this night; not if he could possibly stop it. Within seconds, he was following them out the door. “I’ll stay put when Angel gets his wings.”
* * *
“Buffy!” exclaimed Willow as she struggled to get out of her wheelchair.
When Oz began to guide her delicately back into it, the hacker shot him an irritated look, but allowed him to continue. Joyce and Giles, however, raced over to Buffy with equally enormous smiles upon their faces. Since he was not her official father -- though he oftentimes felt like one -- Giles granted her mother the right to hug Buffy first. “Baby, oh honey, I missed you so much.”
With a carefully hidden roll of her eyes, Buffy said, “Mom, I’m so sorry I ran out on you. I-I...”
Joyce stepped back to let her daughter’s Watcher embrace her as she said, “Don’t worry about it, right now. All that matters is you’re okay.”
The blonde vampire wrapped her arms around the stuffy British man and said as warmly as she could, “Hey, Giles.”
She pulled away from him and pretended to suddenly notice his wounds. “Giles! What did Angel *do* to you?”
“It’s nothing, Buffy, really. You shouldn’t have to worry about me.”
Willow made eye contact with the Slayer and sheepishly said, “I-I’m sorry, Buff. I’m still really dizzy from the whole curse thing. I kinda overdid it yesterday, and now I’m makin’ with the chair bound-ness.”
The former Slayer silently made note of what the hacker had remarked; the fact that the girl would be of little help in an attack could quite possibly come in handy. After stepping slowly over to the injured person who used to be her best friend and confidante, Buffy carefully wrapped her arms around Willow’s shoulders. “I never had a chance to thank you for trying the curse again, Will. It gave me one last moment with Angel...”
Genuinely confused, Buffy furrowed her eyebrows and asked, “Where’s Xander?”
The anger that flashed in the group’s eyes was clear as Oz said, “He’s kinda the outcast of the moment...So, what’s up? I mean, aside from the fact that you’re here and not someplace that’s of the else.”
Buffy silently wondered how her soul had found any redeeming qualities in these imbeciles as she said, “Nothing much, Oz...Cordelia.”
The brunette smiled and waved slightly from her seat, not making any other effort to welcome the Slayer back. “Way to make with anti-Cleavers approach to life there, Cordy,” Oz laughed.
“Buffy, there’s something you should know about Angel,” Willow began.
Not wanting to lose her chance to play ‘wounded Buffy,’ the vampire decided to interrupt her onetime friend. She addressed the room full of people with whom she used to associate -- the weaklings whom she had actually called, ‘friends.’ “Look, about him and the running away bit--...God, I was so stupid. I think my brain just shut down when I saw Angel disappear into that vortex--”
She allowed her voice to stop abruptly for drama’s sake, and then continued, “I killed him. I-I killed Angel. He looked at me, a-and he didn’t know why I had--”
As she saw Giles come rushing over to her, Buffy promptly stepped away from his reach, not wishing him to feel the icy temperature of her slightly ashen skin through her shirt. She had already taken enough chances with all the hugging; the last thing she wanted was for these people to become suspicious of her before she could have her fun. Buffy looked into her Watcher’s fretting eyes. “Giles, Xander betrayed me, didn’t he?” Upon seeing his somber expression, the former Slayer continued, “I should have known better than to trust him...I just can’t believe that the bloody jerk betrayed me!”
Buffy realized her error the moment it left her lips, but she recovered quickly by casting her head down as though she was still thrown my the very notion of Xander’s treachery. Unwittingly, she had tossed a Spike-ism into her performance, something she blamed completely on her cockney sire. ‘Damn it! I can’t believe I said something so...Spike-y. I have seriously lowered my vocabulary standards. That’s it. When I see Spike later on, he dies a slow and painful--’
“Bloody? That’s a strong Giles-like word, there. I think you’re getting a little too extra-curricular with the librarian, Buffy. Take it from someone who knows -- that’s just not a good thing. Your poor eyes! I mean, the lighting in this room is enough to make any cosmetic-aware person shudder! How you don’t have horrible, disgusting bags under your eyes from straining them in this no-light environment is beyond me.” Cordelia shivered as the concept of bags under her own eyes visibly passed through her mind.
Oz, who had remained silent as he waited for the cheerleader to finish, asked slowly, “So are you making your body a shrine to Angel’s memory?”
When everyone regarded him with puzzled grimaces, he persisted to make his point. “I’m just saying that he always looks like he took a can of flour and smeared it on his body. You’re all sorts of pale, Buff. Everything okay?”
Buffy felt her mother’s and, more importantly, Giles’ scrutinizing stares fix on her. With a shrug, she said, “Yeah, you know with all the crying and everything, I-I just...I haven’t had a chance to get out in the sun. Fight Angel by night. Sleep and cry by day. Doesn’t do much for the skin. Ask Cordelia.”
The brunette nodded her head, silently agreeing with Buffy. However, Willow knew her closest friend better than that, and she asked cautiously, “Buffy? Where’s your cross that Angel gave you? I thought since killing Angel, you’d never, ever take it off.”
“Well, I did. Listen, I need some help researching the curse that was put on Angel. I-I kinda want to know if there was anything that could have been done to ensure he’d never lose it again.”
Buffy turned her back on the pathetic clan as she tried to conceive a plan for convincing them to help her. She admittedly refused to have Angel’s soul chained to him for eternity, and she did not put it past Giles to find a way to do so. He had, in fact, brought the miserable coward of a soul back from the pits of Hell. If the Watcher could to that, he could mostly likely find a ritual that would forever bind Angel to Angelus.
Willow’s voice drew her out of her reflection. “This isn’t like you, Buffy. Y-you’d never be this indifferent about Angel.”
Having heard enough of their whining to last for eternity, Buffy spun around to face them, her vampiric visage firmly in place. Willow’s horrified scream filled the library as Oz protectively pulled her wheelchair back several meters before coming to a defensive position in front of her. Even though he had suspected foul play from the minute his Slayer had begun to put the dramatics into overdrive, Giles still could not believe what his eyes were seeing. It was not Buffy; there was no way the demon before them could be his Slayer. Cordelia had jumped up from her seat when Buffy turned around and was standing over a thoroughly shaken Willow. The whole time, Joyce had stood with her mouth hanging open. “Buffy?”
“Buffy? Buffy? No, no, no, *Mom*. That worthless do-gooder is history, thanks to my new pal, Spike. I’d tell you to go ask Angel about what happened, but since he’s not going to have his soul for much longer, I don’t think you’ll get much out of him.”
She removed the innocence that she had placed into her voice for her excursion into library as she said harshly, “Okay, this is the way it works: you give me the ritual to curse Angel with his soul, and a way to permanently remove it, and you don’t die. See? Simple, really.”
Glaring, Giles said, “You cannot sincerely expect us to comply, Buffy. You should know us well enough to understand that we would all rather die than aid an attempt to free Angelus forever.”
Under her breath, Cordelia whispered, “Speak for yourself.”
After sending a chiding look the brunette’s way, he continued to his Slayer, “I suggest you leave this library at once.”
Buffy stood still for a moment before bolting towards Oz. She flung him effortlessly into the stacks of the upper level, rendering him unconscious. After shoving Cordelia aside, the experienced fighter grasped Willow by the waist and around her wounded skull, thereby pinning her arms to her sides. Smirking through her fangs, Buffy said, “I suggest I *stay* in this library or the little hacker dies.”
A loud crash sounded as the door to the large room was thrown off its hinges, such was the force used to open it. There -- flanked by Whistler and Xander -- stood a very enraged, very fierce-looking Angel. His face was currently twisted into the ridges which had been etched into the Slayerettes minds for months as danger. Now, he fought with them, once more, and he was not overjoyed to see his lover gripping the weak teenager tightly. “I’m going to tell you this one time and one time, only: let Willow go and get the Hell out of this library.”
Angel slowly advanced on the Slayer, who continued to grin smugly at the newly arrived trio. “God, lover, can’t you find better backups? I mean, a Casper-y demon who can’t dress and a sickly teenage *boy* who can’t dress don’t really scare me. Actually, seeing them gives me a happy. I’m know I’m gonna win.”
From behind the seething vampire, Whistler shook his head and said with a smile, “Kid, you have no idea what I am or who I work for. If you don’t want to make more trouble for yourself, I’d suggest you up and leave.”
“Whatever, Whistler. I like where I am. And I’m not going anywhere until I have the ritual that gave Angel his soul. Once I find the way to get my Angelus back, I wouldn’t want your sorry ass showing up, would I?”
With a sneer, Angel muttered, “You’re sick. I thought I’d seen evil in all its forms, but the corruption that went on in that body you call home--...Buffy was the exact opposite of you.”
The fledgling grinned. “Thank you. It’s good to know *someone* around here can recognize me as a person not to be trifled with.”
Angel let a quick growl escape from deep in his throat before he said, “I wouldn’t say that...”
As confusion crossed Buffy’s visage, Giles, who had worked his way behind her as she bantered with the other vampire, hit her upside the head with a small staff he kept out for circumstances such as this one. Her mind reeled, forcing her to let go of her hold on Willow, not to mention prohibiting her from preparing for the onslaught of blows from Angel. Buffy fought to regain some sense of balance as she cursed wildly.
After jumping to her feet, she began to battle the vampire just like she had for months, only now they fought on opposite sides. When a quick blow to the chin sent Angel flying backwards, Buffy made an effort to reach Willow and Joyce, who were sitting side by side weeping on the stairs, but Whistler intercepted her.
A smile written on his face, he asked, “Looking to talk a walk somewhere, Buffy?”
Without a word, the former Slayer rushed him, confidant in her ability to overpower the undersized demon. Whistler side-stepped her easily, and faster than human eyes could detect, had her hands bound firmly behind her back. He bent over slightly and whispered into her ear, “I have an idea, Slayer: get gone.”
He let her go then, hurling her forcefully towards the broken doors. Buffy glanced over at Angel, who had recovered from his fall and was more than willing to pick up from where they been interrupted. After deciding that she did not want to become entangled in a war with the group until she had a more suitable plan underway, Buffy smiled maliciously at those left standing. “Fine. Play it your way. I have all the time it the world.”
As she walked past Angel’s fuming form , she paused and dropped her vampiric visage. With a hopeful expression that looked for all the world like their fallen friend, Buffy whispered, “See you around?” to the vampire, quoting a time at the Bronze when the two lovers had decided to not become involved. Instantly, Angel slipped out of his own ridges, agony written on his mortal features. Liking that her words had the desired effect on him, she left without saying or doing anything else, fearful of spoiling the moment.
Whistler waited for the Slayer to be out of earshot before he said, “I’ll be damned. The bitch won, anyway.”
He looked at the collapsed door and continued, “She’s too good, gang. You can fight her until you’re blue in the face, but she knows exactly where to stick the knife.”
Angel, who had neither said nor done anything since Buffy had sent her final jab his way, whispered, “Buffy...” and broke down into body-shaking sobs as he fell to the floor.
With an almost inaudible sigh, Whistler said, “Come on, Angel. This is just the beginning. It’s gonna be all right. And we just ended this whole crying thing, remember? You were going to bring her back? You knew you could?...Come on, you’re gonna get me goin’, too. I don’t do tears. They don’t make me seem as demon-like.”
While Whistler was talking to Angel, Giles briefly checked on the girls. Thankful that Cordelia had only suffered a minor cut on her forehead, he laid a hand on each of the other two’s shoulders. It was merely a small comfort, but the Watcher had more important matters to which to tend. Oz was trapped somewhere in the toppled stacks -- much as his girlfriend had been just days ago -- presumably hurt.
Part Five B
“Well, did you get the soddin’ thing?” Spike asked in his thick cockney accent as Buffy stormed out of the high school.
“Does it *look* like I got the ritual, Spike? Try thinking for a change.”
Miss Edith cradled in her arms, Drusilla cooed, “Baby’s in a mood tonight, luv.”
With a laugh, Spike said, “Yeah, she’s bloody pissed off, and all that.”
Suddenly, a high-heeled foot connected with Spike’s jaw and thrust him backwards into the dumpster a few meters away from them. As he came up sputtering, he said, “What the bloody Hell did you do *that* for! I feel like Oscar the soddin’ Grouch in ‘ere.”
Before Buffy could reply, Drusilla said, “Miss Edith doesn’t like Seseame Street. The big creatures want to hurt her with joyful songs and smiles. They’re like millions of leeches, comin’ down from the stars to remove all the darkness.”
Spike hopped out of the dumpster and said, “I know luv, but what I’m much more interested in right now is what happened in that library with Chuckles the librarian and his band of merry followers. Did Angel put in an appearance?”
Scowling, Buffy said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
After leaning over to Drusilla, Spike whispered loudly, “Which translates into ‘I messed up the whole Slayer-wanna-be cookout, and now they all know my plan.’” To Buffy, he continued, “Is that about right, or did I miss an embarrassing moment?”
“Shut up, Spike. I have I new plan. Who needs Giles to help me when I can do things myself?”
Spike grinned playfully and punched her on the arm as he said, “That’s my girl. A real villain doesn’t need any help from the good guys. I worked out the ritual for my Dru all by myself, didn’t I? Okay, the whole shindig fell apart...on me...but it turned out for the good. It still worked...If you really want your Angelus back that badly, then I suppose he can get his entirely worthless ass back into the fold. However, it’s gonna be under *my* terms, and Dru is off-limits. Clear?”
Without another word, he started walking ahead of them , eager to get home and wash off the smell of garbage. When Spike moved in front of the women, they saw that a rather foul-looking sock had attached itself to his back through static cling. Drusilla was about to say something when Buffy hurriedly threw a hand over her mouth. “Shh...this could be fun.”
In front of them, Spike noticed that his companions were dragging behind. Spike called over his shoulder, “Come on, then, hurry along. We’re gonna think us up a plan that’ll knock the socks off them.”
* * *
With a grunt, the British librarian moved the first of many enormous bookcases to the side. Disappointed that it did not uncover Oz, Giles moved to another and began to lift with visible effort while grumbling, “This would go much faster if I had a spot of assistance from one of you chaps over there.”
Xander shook his head and turned to Angel. “Yeah, Dead Boy, crying isn’t gonna help Buffy come back--”
“Xander, I was referring to you when I said that, so could you *please* be silent for a change and help me?”
The teenager sighed to himself as he heard the Watcher’s clipped tones and started moving towards the stairs. Through his tears, Angel saw him heading over to the stacks, and he shook his head. “Giles, it’s all right. I’ll give you a hand with those.”
When he walked passed the three women, he eyed them with concern, wanting to make sure they were unharmed. Xander saw this and began, “Look, man, I was only trying to--”
Angel spun to face Xander with a low growl. “If it weren’t for the fact that Oz is up there and needs my help, I would personally cut off your hands and use your blood to paint them both red because Buffy’s death is on them right now. So help me, if you don’t stay out my way and out of my sight, I swear I will make you pay for what has happened to Buffy.”
A small voice said weakly, “Well, isn’t *that* the kinda image that makes you all kinds of hungry?”
Willow lifted her head and smiled broadly as Angel darted up the stairs to join Giles by the bookcase from where the sound had come. They moved it together, unveiling a pale, blood-covered Oz, who was fighting for consciousness. As he crouched by the boy’s side, Giles began to inspect him while Joyce helped Willow walk over to her boyfriend. With a slight tremor in her voice, the girl asked, “Oz, are you okay?” His only response was a murmur as he rubbed the palm of his hand against his forehead.
Meanwhile, Cordelia had moved over to the group around Oz. After one brief look over Joyce’s shoulder, she sneered and walked back down the stairs. “Why do I talk to you people? It’s always about blood, death, friends being evil, and yet more blood. God.”
Looking at the girl with a tiny grin, Whistler said, “You’re not big on the sympathy track, are ya, kid?”
She turned towards him and scowled. “Look, I don’t appreciate the blood thing, all right? I mean, back when Buffy was being bitch-like in the fall, who was the one covered in nastiness? *Me*. Do you understand how expensive that dry cleaning bill was? Of course not, because you’re a very disgustingly dressed *male* who...I don’t think I know. Guys, who let the creep in?”
Giles ignored her as he continued to inspect Oz on the second level of the library. The boy was not in the best of conditions, but his injuries were not as grim as they could have turned out, he surmised. There was an obvious head injury, through it was apparently not as severe as the one Willow had suffered only days before. From the angle of his left leg, the Watcher also suspected a multiple fracture.
“Giles, is he all right?” came Willow’s voice, laden with apprehension.
He looked at the girl and shrugged slightly. “I don’t believe there has been any serious damage, although I do suggest we get him to a hospital. He has some rather deep lacerations from the wood and a broken leg that I would like doctors to examine. Other than that, I expect that he shall be just fine.”
Still rubbing his temple with one hand, Oz pushed himself up into a seated position with his free arm. “I see stars. Probably not a good thing.”
After turning his attention to Willow, he continued, “It’s okay, baby. See? Not dead. Just a little broken.”
Joyce helped the wounded girl back into her wheelchair as Oz threw his arm around Angel’s shoulder and walked carefully down the stairs. Giles looked at Cordelia and was about to say something when she interrupted saying, “No, no, absolutely not, Giles. The last thing I need is werewolf blood all over my convertible. Remember? It’s that insanely cute thing that sits outside the school shinning brighter than all the other crap-mobiles that the rest of the student body drives? It doesn’t want blood stains; *I* certainly don’t want blood stains, so I think we should come up with a different plan to-”
“Cordelia, I was merely going to inquire whether or not it would put you out to drive Oz in his van to the hospital since you are injured, as well. I was not about to ask that you sacrifice your leather interior to your wounded friend.” Thinking the idea through, Cordelia rolled her eyes and consented, “Fine, fine, fine - I’ll drive the van if I have to.” Protesting, Willow said, “Giles, I want to go with him. He was there for me, and now I want to be there for him.”
Shaking his head, Giles replied, “No, I’m sorry; we need your knowledge and your knack for working those awful computers here. Is that all right, Oz?” The boy nodded, “Yeah, just don’t have too much fun without me. I might get jealous.” Throwing and arm around Cordelia, he let her help him stand up and hop on one leg. As they moved towards the door, she turned to him and scowled, “Just don’t get any blood on me, got it?”
“Gees, that kid’s one hell of a nice gal, huh?” asked Whistler as the group settled around the table.
After furrowing his eyebrows, Xander asked, “So I know I was kicked out of here and everything so I missed all kinds of stuff, but um....who’s this?”
Giles looked at the demon as though he was only now noticing his presence and said, “I-I’m not sure.”
Angel, tears falling from his eyes again, acknowledged Whistler with his hand. “This is Whistler. He was the one that first showed me Buffy and helped prepare me to fight side-by-side with her.”
The group turned to face the demon, who nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, that’s basically how it went, except the stink part...Hey, man -- what did I tell ya about the crying game, huh?... Look, there’s no reason for you all to trust me, but I think I can be a big help to you folks. I mean, I know a guy who knows a guy who know a demon that might have a way to bring back your little Slayer. It’s not like I charge anything, either. I actually like this one. She’s not all ‘I love my job’ like the others.”
He glanced over at Willow and asked, “You doin’ all right, kid? Buffy kinda had you in an I-want-to-kill-you choke hold, there.”
Nodding, she replied, “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m, you know, always the one captured when a friend turns against us...I’m getting used to it.”
Angel replied quietly, “You shouldn’t *have* to get used to anything. If it wasn’t for me--”
“If it wasn’t for you, Buffy would have been dead long ago. You helped her,” Whistler interrupted.
Joyce sniffled and wiped her eyes. As she looked at her daughter’s vampire lover, she said, “Angel, I’m not going to say that I’m happy with your relationship with her, and I don’t completely understand what you felt for each other, but against my better judgment, I’m going to agree with Mr. Whistler. I think Buffy was happiest with you...God, I just can’t believe my baby’s a-a...a demon. The way her face--”
Unable to form anymore words, Joyce covered her mouth with one hand and squeezed her eyes shut. When Angel saw her reaction, he said halfheartedly, “That’s not Buffy, Mrs. Summers. No matter what she says or does, you have to remember that. She wasn’t a killer, of humans anyway.”
Giles nodded and regarded the woman’s sorrow for a moment before he began speaking in a harsh tone of voice. “It’s a most dreadful turn of events, that is for certain. And, handily, it provides me with a segue into the next topic at hand -- you, Xander. Do you have any conception of what you have done, or have we already been through this song and dance?”
“Yeah, I know, Giles. Believe me, I know.”
The Watcher shook his head. “No, I don’t think do. Before tonight, I -- not to mention Angel and Willow -- was angry that you had betrayed someone that you professed to love once. You also betrayed your best friend’s trust and placed yourself in shame in everyone’s eyes. Now, you have gone far beyond that which you achieved before today.
“Buffy, the Slayer, is a part of the vampire community, and she will not rest until Sunnydale is hers. Let me explain to you how grave this situation is because I honestly do not believe you understand the monster you created with your lie. Buffy is, as all Slayers are, a killing machine. As a Watcher, I was to instruct her to better her abilities. I was supposed to make the teenage girl who should have spent her nights gossiping with her friends into a murderer. A murderer of *vampires*, true, but a murderer none the less. She saved the world twice because of her killing instincts, but what no one in the Council ever stops to prepare for is the possibility that one day the Slayer’s target is no longer the undead, but the mortal population she was sworn to protect. That day has now come, and the fault is your own. How can you expect me to forgive you for causing this kind of catastrophe which has spawned such a commanding foe and taken away our greatest warrior?”
His mouth agape, Xander was speechless for a moment before he exclaimed, “I can’t believe you’re blaming *all* of this on me! Okay, I messed up and-and didn’t tell Buffy about the stupid curse. That’s just teenage jealousy, there. I-I don’t see how that alone can--...And what about Angel? Part of the reason that one of my best friends in a member of the fang gang is because Dead Boy slept with her on her birthday. If he could of kept his hands off of her for a change, maybe everything would be different.”
Angel’s head snapped up and revealed his face in its vampiric state. He ignored Willow’s cry to settle down and snarled, “How dare you belittle the best night of my life. The woman I love found it in herself to love me back without caring about the monster that I am. For you to sit there in judgment of that memory makes me want to make good on my threat to kill you. Which reminds me...I thought I told you that I don’t want to look at your pathetic face again.”
With a gulp, Xander looked around the room for someone to side with him. When he reached Willow she merely said, “You know how I feel, Xander.”
He nodded sadly and started out of the library. Before walking out the double doors, he turned his head slightly and said over his shoulder, “I loved her too, Giles.”
A few moments of silence passed amongst those remaining until Giles said, “I-I don’t mean to be this hard on him. I just--”
“He killed Buffy. I don’t care if it was Spike or Gandhi that actually brought her across. He killed her,” Angel muttered.
Giles removed his glasses and began to clean the lens. “Yes, well...I-I suggest that perhaps we should all go home and spend some time alone. Whistler, I expect that you’ll try to find out a bit more about the curse your friend has?”
“Actually, it’s a friend of a friend of a friend, and yeah, I’ll be looking.”
Confused, Joyce asked, “Why can’t you use the same curse you used on Angel? I thought it was for bringing back his soul.”
After a slight nod, Giles responded, “Yes, well, it might work, but I don’t believe the components involved can provide Buffy with her soul, again. Something about Slayers protects them from many ancient curses such as those of the Romani clan. I’ll read the Watcher Diaries and see what others have done in this situation, but I think our best bet lies in this Whistler fellow and his friend.”
“Friend of a friend of a friend,” Whistler added.
Giles nodded and said, “Y-yes, um...Yes. In the meantime, however, I still recommend that we go our separate ways and give ourselves an opportunity to think. I shall talk to the Council, as well, and see what their opinion on the matter is. I hope they will entertain the notion of me staying in the United States. Somehow I feel I could be of more use here than in that musty old place. Nonetheless, I believe everything will work out given some time. Buffy will be fine. She’s a fighter...Right then, tomorrow evening we shall meet back. Is that all right with everyone?”
At their agreements, the two females left together, leaving the men alone. Turning to Giles, Whistler said gravely, “You lie pretty well for a British guy.”
Angel asked in a subdued voice, “Things don’t look as good as you said?”
With an audible sigh, Giles walked over to the table, where the two other men sat next to each other, and sat on the edge. “No, things don’t appear to being going our way, at all...I read something during my studies in Britain that stated when a Slayer is brought across, there is little else that can be done short of death. I didn’t want to mention anything in front of Buffy’s mother or-or Willow, but...you deserve the, uh, the truth, Angel. If Whistler’s source doesn’t come through...I cannot foresee another solution other than, um...the end. I’m so sorry.”
He nodded and caressed her Claddagh ring on his left hand. As the pink tears began to fall once more, Angel said in a whispered voice, “God help me.”
* * *
“How could you not tell me? My own lover and my own daughter let me walk about the bloody streets of Sunnydale with a great-big decaying sock on my back! Now how do think that makes a man feel?”
Smiling at her sire, Buffy suggested, “Static-clingy?”
As he growled harshly, Spike continued to pace the commons area of the vampires’ new warehouse. “I can’t believe I was the laughing stock of Sunnyhell! Me! William the Bloody. Do you think I’ll be feared anymore? No, those days are over. I’ll be sittin’ in front of the T.V. for the rest on my existence holding a bottle of blood with one hand and scratching myself with the other. The little kiddies will all gawk and stare at me through the windows. They’ll be all like, ‘Oh look! It’s William the Sock-y! Look how he scratches.’ Might as well bloody stake me now, Slayer.”
By the time Spike had ended his monologue, Buffy was doubled over in laughter while Drusilla merely smiled wickedly at him. The Slayer continued to giggle, as Drusilla asked, “Spike, my sweet, can I eat the kiddies who came a callin’?”
After shrugging, Spike collapsed into a dusty pile of boxes in the corner of the large room. “Sure, ducks, eat anything you like. What does it really matter, anyway?”
“Spike, you are so pathetic!” Buffy said, finally in control of her laughter.
“I mean, come *on*, it was late at night, and we didn’t run into *anyone* on the way home. No one saw you except Dru and I. Now can you please stop bitching like you’ve been doing for the past five hours and help me? I need to think of a way to get Angelus back into the fold.”
Now chuckling, himself, Spike walked over to Buffy and said, “You’re a bloody fledging, Buffy. How the hell do you expect to think up a plan to beat that Watcher of yours?”
She rolled her eyes and said, “That’s why I could use some help. Besides, they aren’t that much of a problem. Giles may be book-smart-y, but I trained with him. I can tell you in all honesty that the guy fights worse than a drunk Goofy.”
“A drunk, goofy what?” Spike asked.
With a second roll of her eyes, Buffy said, “Sorry, I guess you missed the Goofy era growing up. Let’s just say that Giles can’t fight worth a damn, and the rest of my ex-amigos are no threat. Willow is grounded with her injuries. Been meaning to thank you for that, Dru. Xander, from what I gathered, has been booted from the library, so we don’t have to worry about him. I got Oz enough so that he shouldn’t be a problem, and Cordelia couldn’t fight even if she tried. Our only problem lies in Whistler. That bastard is stronger than he looks.”
An eyebrow raised, Spike asked, “Uh, pet, I think you skipped over Angel. He won’t hesitate to kill you.”
Smiling, Buffy said, “He will if he thinks there’s a possibility of bringing his precious Buffy’s soul back. How could he destroy my body willingly if he knows that there is a chance she could be brought back to him? I know Angel better than that.”
Skeptically, Spike said, “Yeah, well I’ve known him for centuries, and I say we scrap this entire ‘Operation: Liberate the Asshole’ thing. You’re saying you *want* them to find a curse before we strike? That sounds a bit suicidal if you ask me. If the original Buffy comes back, I’m toast. Thanks, but no thanks, Buff. I say we think of something we can do *now* while they’re weepin’ all over the place. Wait a few weeks, and they’ll be all into the territory of accepting. Remember? That’s where you were when you teamed with me? You didn’t care about the soddin’ curse that you had. You just wanted Angelus dead."
“Spike, come on! I know these humans better than they know themselves. Can’t you listen to me for once?”
Drusilla looked up at Spike and said, “It should special, my sweet, and Miss Edith doesn’t have a thing to wear yet. She wants to look pretty, and she says to listen to the Slayer. Her old friends wouldn’t see us coming later on, luv. We could surprise them, and Miss Edith would look all pretty in a new dress.”
As her threw his hands up in the air, Spike said, “Fine, then. I suppose if my ducks agrees with you, Slayer, then I’m all for it. Just remember these words, pet: I wanted to kill them now. When Angel is staking you through the heart, remember what I said.” He was silent for a moment before he added, “I wanted be able to tell you that while I still could because later I’ll be busy being the subject of public reticule. I can’t believe I walked all the way home with a crusty sock on my *leather*! You didn’t even tell me I was being physically violated by that creature in front of the entire world! I mean, that just hurts a guy, you know?”
Buffy flopped onto her back and covered her face with her hands. As she listened to Spike’s continued tirade and Drusilla’s humming, she groaned out loud. The urge to start throwing things at them was just beginning to overtake her when she suddenly had a brainstorm as to how to improve her unlife. Perhaps she would not kill all of the Slayerettes, after all.
Part Five C
Afternoon gave way into early evening in Sunnydale as the partially hidden sun trekked across the sky behind a group of ashen clouds. Weary from another day of school without Buffy, not to mention another day trying to avoid her childhood friend at all costs, Willow sat in her room by herself. Ever since the accident in the library that temporarily left her wheelchair-bound for most of her day, she had friends and family hovering over her constantly. It was nice to merely recline in the comfort of her own room and enjoy the time alone.
Bored sitting on her bed with nothing to do, Willow picked up the phone and was preparing to call Buffy when she realized that she could no longer do so. The sudden inability to do something as normal as that act tugged at her heart in the place still aching from the previous night. She had learned then that her best friend was a demon, the very thing that she had fought during battle after countless battle. It was most certainly one of the worst experiences of her young adult life. Looking into Buffy eyes’ and seeing not her closest friend, but a corrupted version of the person that she had once been, had prevented her from falling asleep that evening.
Even now, Willow could not close her eyes long enough to blink, for lying in the darkness of her hooded eyes would be the image of a purity adulterated with evil. As a shiver caused the tiny hairs on her arms to stand on end, she tried to find something else to contemplate as her cozy room rapidly grew more lonesome with each passing moment. It seemed as though the more she thought about how forlorn she was becoming, the worse the feeling pulsed within her. However much to her chagrin, Willow could not think about anything or anyone other than Buffy as the evening hours’ darkness began to overtake the sunlight outside.
After getting up from the bed with a bit of effort, she walked carefully over to the large French doors which lead to her balcony and drew a curtain over them. She moved over to the other side of her room and pulled down the shade before switching on her various lamps. As she turned on a small one, it illuminated a rose-colored envelope with her name written on it in gold. Willow picked up the letter and turned it over several times in her hand as she wondered what to do with it.
Buffy had intended for them to read these final words after she had been killed in battle, her life given for the world. However Willow imagined that her best friend never thought that her being brought across was even conceivable, and therefore had not instructed them on what they were to do with her letters in such an event. As she continued to flip the envelope over and over in her grasp, Willow questioned whether or not to open up her best friend’s parting words.
She walked over to the bed slowly with the letter in hand and wrestled with the idea of opening it simply to have something for a moment in time that was their Buffy. Life had changed drastically in the past several days, and Willow felt as though she was losing touch with everything she used to know as the truth. Xander’s breach of her faith in him robbed her of something that she had held dear for as long as she could remember. As was the case with Buffy, Willow could no longer call him at a whim just to shoot the breeze. Alterations were quickly befalling the relationships she depended on most, and as the transitions occurred, Willow found herself craving her best friend’s advice all the more.
The decision was clear; after all that had happened to them in the past few days and all that they had discovered about their dear friend’s final hours, Willow resolved that she needed this now more than ever. These would be the last words she would ever hear from her friend as a human, or God forbid the last words she would hear from her period. She swiftly found and tore the flap on the back on the envelope, and then carefully removed the light pink stationary paper from within and unfolded it. Smiling in spite of the finality the words represented, she thought ‘Only Buffy could write a goodbye letter on this kind of stationary.’
It was a scene fit for a little girl’s fantasy storybook, symbolizing all the dreams her best friend had lost in becoming the Slayer. Snow-white unicorns with horns of gold and manes every hue of the rainbow danced joyously across the paper. Beneath them lay beds of emerald green grass, while above them the sun shone brilliantly from a pale blue sky. As Willow moved her eyes to the baby-pink border, she noticed the raised flowers popping up from the paper. She rubbed her fingers over them and felt tears well up in her eyes. This was the very thing that had been permanently stolen from Buffy -- the innocence of youth and the virtue of the human soul. Sniffing back her tears as best as she could, Willow raised the paper higher and began to read.
Dear Willow,
What do I say to you, Wills? How do I tell my best friend that I failed in my duty? I did. I mean, I must have for you to be reading this now. I wonder what went wrong, and how I let you guys down. I’m sorry I wasn’t there like you were always there for me. Ever since day one, you stuck by me. You found out about all the stuff that I have to put up with -- all the evil -- and yet you still stood by me. How many other people would have done something like that?
I sit in my room some days staring blankly out the window and wondering what my life would have been like without you around. It’s a scary thought, and I’m sorry that you have to experience it. I hope you have the opportunity to move on, but living on the Hellmouth, no one can be too sure. I find myself ever more scared that Angel might get to me before I have a chance to kill him; I hope I have not left you alone in a world with Angelus and some rebellious Slayer that doesn’t know how to handle him. I hate to say this, but if I have to die, I hope I saw to it that you were safe from my mistake first. With any luck, you’ll have the chance to grow up that I’ll never have.
I do ask you to do one thing for me, Willow, even though it may be kind of hard for you. As I write this, you’re still sort of mad at Xander for not telling you about Cordelia. I realize that this is like the ultimate betrayal of your trust on his part, but I ask you to watch over him for me and forgive him for what he did to you. Willow, he’s a teenager like the rest of us, and he makes mistakes. Please be his shoulder to cry on whenever he needs it most. He loves you dearly, even if he never says it.
As for Oz, I think you both have a future together, and so I ask that you live what I could not. Find the happiness in him that Angel and I found in each other, and we will never be forgotten. Remember that love is precious, and God knows it only happens once, so take care of Oz. You guys are perfect for each other.
I don’t know how I died, Wills, and frankly it creeps me to think about it. Something I do know is that you probably supported me until the end, and so I thank you.
Forever yours in friendship and in memory, Buffy Anne Summers
By the time she had finished reading the last line, Willow was sobbing out loud gasping wails. She heard her mother dashing up the stairs and so she tossed the paper under her pillow. When Mrs. Rosenburg came into her room, she ran over to her daughter and embraced her tightly. Still holding Willow firmly against her, she asked, “What’s wrong, honey? Is it your stitches?”
After shaking her head, Willow replied, “Buffy’s gone,” and broke down into more tears on her mother’s shoulder. She briefly opened her eyes and looked past Mrs. Rosenburg to see a framed picture laying by her computer. It had been a sunny afternoon, and Xander, Buffy, and herself had their picture taken as a group. Seeing the Slayer bathed in sunlight and happiness brought even more sobs to her lips as the shivering began, once more.
* * *
Seated around the library’s table were the remaining Slayerettes: Cordelia, Angel, Giles and a wheelchair-free Willow. As they waited for the evening’s final member to show, the Watcher was lecturing Willow on her choice to walk to the library without her wheelchair. After ten minutes of reprimanding her, he was still going. “I just think perhaps she shouldn’t have attempted to walk all the way here so soon after her accident, Cordelia. There was no reason to get snippy.”
“Sorry, it’s just that you’ve been rambling on and on about Willow for, like, ever. Care some about the truly wounded, Giles. Her head’s gonna be fine. My forehead may be *scarred*! As in white-line-having, ugly-mark-wearing, sorry-but-you-can’t-be-a-model-because-of-that-flaw scar!”
Giles stared blankly at the girl for a moment, then turned back to Willow and continued, “You had severe head trauma mere days ago. I don’t believe your doctors would consent to this. Y-you could fall, or worse, lose consciousness. You took a highly dangerous gamble, and--”
“Okay, I know that Xander was evicted from the gang, but where’s the cute, short guy and the Slayer’s mom?”
Willow smiled at Whistler and replied, “Oz’s doctors gave him a clean bill of health, but they wanted him to rest for a day or so in bed. His mom is enforcing the whole bed rest thing, so he’s home.”
With nod, Giles added, “And Mrs. Summers, er, *Joyce*, phoned me from Los Angles this afternoon. She took a drive there to inform her ex-husband of their daughter’s...well, kidnapping. Of course she can’t impart the, uh, the-the truth, as it were, but she said she would devise some sort of story to, uh--...So there it is.”
Angel, who had not spoken a single word since entering the library fifteen minutes prior, looked up at his friend and asked, “Any luck contacting your source?”
Taking a seat, Whistler nodded. “Yeah. The guy said he would make some calls, but he also said there’s a good chance that Angel’s curse won’t work on her.”
Giles turned to the other two girls and explained, “Y-Yes, um, we weren’t going to mention anything until we were positive, but...there is a very conceivable possibility that the Romani curse that...Jenny stumbled upon will not be affective on Buffy. I conferred with the Council, and they told me that it was worth a try, but to not get our hopes up. However, if Whistler’s source falls through, or the spells don’t accomplish what they should...we need to prepare ourselves for the probability that our only other option would be to slay our dear friend and put an end to her soul’s suffering.”
“Hey, Angel, I think the both of us need to find this man some Prozac, or at least some Jeritol. He’s not the happiest Watcher in the world, is he?”
Angel shot an irritated look at Whistler, but Willow promptly came to his defense. “No, Whistler’s kinda right. I mean, we should try to keep our spirits up. I mean, frankly, I don’t want to think about Buffy-slayage ‘til we have tried absolutely everything.”
Cordelia nodded. “I actually agree with her. Why waste time thinking about all the bad stuff that we may have to do, when we should be thinking about helping Buffy. She’s saved my life, like, a million times. I want to help her now.”
Smiling slightly, Giles replied, “Of course. I apologize for my gloom, but you have to understand that I feel as though I have lost my daughter because of the job that I make her do...Still, you girls have made your point. I shall endeavor to keep my spirits high, or-or at least not so glum.”
As he raised his hand in the air, Whistler asked, “Excuse me? Masculinity on the line, here. ‘You girls have made your point?’” In a smaller voice he said, “I’m feminine in your eyes?”
Before Giles could answer, Willow said, “Okay, this is where I get up and leave. The sexuality issue between Giles and Whistler should stay there. I’m gonna go home if no one minds too much.”
“No, no not at all, Willow,” Giles said. “Although I do want to warn you that Star and Mr. O’Toole shall be coming here tomorrow afternoon. We can meet here sometime in the evening so you can all have a chance to meet her. Of course, if you so choose, you don’t have to attend. We’re in a bit a fix until Mr. Whistler’s friend of a friend...of a friend gets back to him, and I’d imagine that some of you may not want to meet Buffy’s replacement as of yet...As for you, Willow, I’m sure Angel will be more than willing to escort you back to your house.”
Shaking her head, Willow said, “No, I’d rather be alone tonight. I have a lot of thinking to do. I mean, my house isn’t that far, and I have holy water, a cross, and a Star of David on me. I should be all right. Besides, Buffy’s not gonna kill any of us yet. I know her.”
Angel shook his head. “You knew Buffy. This--”
“--isn’t her. I know. But it thinks like her, so I’m gonna go with my instincts...I’ll see you tomorrow, Giles.”
She stood up slowly and walked towards the door. Just before leaving, she asked, “You guys, do you think maybe we were too hard on Xander? Yeah, he betrayed Buffy, but he was only trying to do what he thought was best for her.”
Angel scowled and said, “This is his fault, Willow. My lover is out there killing and feeding because of him. He deserves to be outcast for awhile.”
Nodding grimly, Giles said, “I have to agree with Angel, Willow. Although, if you so choose, you are free to talk with him. He’s not off limits, as it were.”
‘That’s just it, Giles. I don’t know what I want anymore,’ she thought. Out loud, she said, “Thanks, you guys. See ya tomorrow.”
Leaving her group of friends behind her, Willow walked slowly out of the library and towards the main doors deep in thought. It was apparent from her brief conversation with Giles and Angel that they had yet to even entertain the notion of relenting on their decision to banish Xander from their meetings. As she pushed her way through the heavy doors and into the crisp night air, Willow wondered if she agreed with them.
Every step was difficult for her as she moved gradually through the utter stillness of midnight. Still, as her mind wandered deeper and deeper into her emotions, the pain began to lessen. If she was true to herself, Willow knew in her heart that she could not forgive Xander for his actions against her friends, Buffy, and herself. In fact, she realized that the only reason it was currently weighing heavy on her mind was that she had read through Buffy’s farewell letter to her and discovered what her best friend’s last request of her was. ‘But, Buffy didn’t know about what would happen with Acathla as she wrote the letter,’ Willow thought to herself as she neared her house. ‘At the time, Xander’s biggest betrayal was not telling me about Cordelia, and even then I had forgiven him by the time Ms. Calendar was killed. Buffy never would have expected me to forgive Xand if she knew what he would do to us all...to Angel. She just never knew...’
Rubbing her hands over her bare arms, Willow tried to speed up her pace as the emptiness of the twilight began to get to her. However, the faster she walked, the more painful the throbbing in her head and legs became, and soon she was forced into a mere stroll. She was just one block away from her home, but she was all too aware that in Sunnydale, one block away from safety could more than easily get someone killed.
“Oh my God, why didn’t I just let Angel walk me home?” she whispered under her breath as the pulsation in her head grew ever worse and her fright increased.
“That’s a very good question, Willow,” came a rich voice from behind her.
Willow froze. She cursed softly under her breath; she was just four houses away from her own. She had almost made it. Now there was only her and the corpse of the girl in whom she had trusted her life. When she spun carefully around, she was face to face with her best friend, or at least what was left of her. Gone were the pastels and butterflies so loved by the Slayer; in their place was more shadowy apparel. At the moment, Buffy wore an ankle-length black skirt with two high slits up either side, a cobalt spaghetti strap top and a brand-new black leather duster. Her make-up was also more severe than it had been in her human days, soft hues transformed into dark colors upon her face. Willow also recognized the way the woman before her looked exactly like her best friend, and yet her smile was not that of the real Buffy Summers.
‘This must be the confusion Buffy always told me about. The way she could look right at Angelus and see Angel, but no without question that it wasn’t.’
Buffy appeared highly amused at her friend’s reaction as Willow could not find it in herself to do little more than gawk at the metamorphosis from Slayer to killer. Grinning, Buffy finally said, “Willow, Willow, Willow -- didn’t the doctor tell you that you have to be in your wheelchair whenever you go on long walks? And you should know better than to take midnight strolls in Sunnydale, Will. Has Giles taught you nothing?”
“I-I think you’re the one who hasn’t learned anything from Giles. How could you go to Ireland to kill yourself? I mean, Buffy...we could have helped you. We could have helped you see how important your life was to us.”
Willow had begun to slowly back towards her house from the moment she started talking. Hopefully, if her plan was successful, her friend would be too busy defending her new-found vampirism to notice that the other girl was slowly retreating to safety.
To her delight, her scheme seemed to have worked. With a scoff, Buffy said, “I, or rather that soul-having bimbo Slayer, went to Ireland because she couldn’t stand losing Angel. The guilt was just too much and she wanted to ‘be with him forever,’ or something like that. But you wanna know what I think, little Willow? The Slayer was missing the big picture. Spike opened my eyes and made me realize that you were all bloody using me to clean up the streets!”
Willow smiled a tiny smile to herself not only at her friend’s use of ‘bloody,’ but also because her plan was turning out beautifully. Still going strong, Buffy continued, “Giles sent me out into the darkness every single night to die, and he did it with a song in his heart. What I didn’t understand was how easily I could have been killed until Spike made me see how wrong Slaying is. Young girls that should be able to act as a meal for my kind are instead trained to slaughter us by the dozens. How do you think that makes me *feel*?”
With the last word, Buffy’s vampiric visage came to the surface and shadowed her once innocent features with a shroud of evil. Willow gasped at the transformation, more out of being startled than terror. “What’s the matter, Will? I’m hurt. I thought you’d be making with the trust more than anyone else. Don’t you understand why I haven’t killed you yet? Why I couldn’t in the library even if I had wanted to? I could give you this -- immortality.”
Caught completely off-guard by her friend’s proposal and the fact that she had accurately predicted Buffy’s train of thought, Willow could barely manage to say, “Uh...w-what? What? I mean...What?”
Buffy hid her game face and stepped closer to Willow, who was shaking slightly at her new enemy’s nearness while trying to concentrate on what the former Slayer was saying. “Will, look at you. You can barely walk. Your face is all cut up. Let me make it better, Willow. Believe me, you’ll be so much happier once you can take revenge on Xander with your bare hands.”
Willow’s breath caught in her throat as she realized that Buffy had learned of Xander’s betrayal. Even though she did not know how her friend had found out, she knew that regardless, Xander was in trouble. The worst part was that she found that a chunk of her irrational mind actually could not care less whether he died or lived. Her resentment towards her childhood friend must have been written plainly on her face, for Buffy said with an enormous smile, “Good. That’s good, Will. We could have so much fun together, you know? I’ve missed you so much. Spike really isn’t as bad as he seems from your side. He’s just a little annoying at times. Dru’s kinda nutty, but it comes with the insane-like territory. So, what’s the sitch? You in or not?”
An inkling of horror formed in Willow’s heart as she discovered that a part of her was so desperate to have Buffy back that it was crying out to her to agree. That was the part that missed the group meetings that consisted only of the original Slayerettes -- the people that had changed her life. Now, severed from both of her closest friends, Willow felt weak and vulnerable, and was almost tempted to give her consent. Even as she was trying frantically to dismiss the feeling from her mind, it gave way to a new plan that just might work. If it did not, then God help her.
“Buffy, I-I honestly don’t know,” she began, hoping that her genuine confusion about the Slayer’s proposition would be enough to convince her friend, “I mean, I *am* interested, but Buffy, I’d kinda like a little time to tie up some loose ends. W-would that be all right? I just need a while, Buffy. Please?”
For some reason, whatever part of Buffy’s personality was left in the vampire still held a soft spot for her friends. After a moment of contemplation, Buffy broke out into a gigantic smile and was the closest to looking like the real Slayer she had been since returning to Sunnydale. “Hey, you got it, Will. Anyway, it’s not like the three of us are going to be in town. We’re going on a little field trip, but we should be back before Halloween. That enough time?”
Willow grinned at her friend, thankful that her plan had worked. Although she would have to tell Giles about her encounter with Buffy -- and to what she had agreed -- the opportunity to make it home safely was now hers. Hopefully, by the time fall came around, they would be ready to cure Buffy and bring her back on their side.
Deep in thought, she almost missed Buffy when she suddenly began to speak. “Willow, I trust you and all, but how do I know you’re not gonna go running off to Giles with this? I mean, you seem like you have some alternative motive-thing goin’ on.”
After shrugging, Willow replied, “No, I-I just...” Pausing, she attempted to reign in her emotions before she spoke from the heart, “...I miss you, Buffy.”
With that, the tears began to fall. She tried with all her might to push them back, but the trauma of her accident, Xander’s betrayal, and Buffy’s defection to the other side combined was too much for her.
“Come on, Will, stop this. It’s just weak, human emotions. You don’t need to feel this way. Don’t let Xander get to you. He’s a stupid human, and a stupid human he’ll stay until you kill him. It’ll make you feel better, Will. I promise you.”
Buffy gathered her friend in her arms as they stood in front of Willow’s house. Feeling her friend’s cool, lifeless body envelop her was startling to Willow, and yet she did not pull back from the embrace. Nor did she try to quiet the murmurs of vampire compassion that Buffy was whispering to her. They may have been the corrupted words of a demon using her friend’s voice, but it had an adulterated version of Buffy’s tenderness, and that was enough for her.
The sirens in Willow’s head continued to go off as Buffy lifted her gently into her arms and carried her to her door. ‘What the hell am I *doing*? I lose Buffy one day, and the next I’m giving myself to this demon with her face. It doesn’t matter how comforting this seems. She’s still a demon. Demon. Buffy is still evil. Evil. Evil.’
When they reached the door, Buffy said sternly, “No Giles, Willow, and definitely no telling Angel. They would both freak, and I don’t think you want a lecture from Giles...Sometimes you can sit there for hours on end as he flows right from one lecture to another until he’s completely off the subject...It’s of the bad...Seriously, though, I worry about you.” Buffy pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from her packet, and Willow watched her scribble something onto it before handing it over.
On the scrap of paper was a long telephone number, and she was about to inquire about it when Buffy said, “Before you ask, it’s Spike’s cell phone number. We’re going to be all over the place for awhile, but you can reach me on that phone. We’ll talk, okay?”
She began to move away when Willow got the sudden urge to ask her, “Why? What do you want in return?”
“Will, let me tell you something. There are things that demand repayment, and there are things which do not. If I choose to take a payment, you’ll be the second person to know. Mostly, I just miss ya. Ciao, babe.” With that, she walked into the night, never looking back.
In moments, Willow was hurrying inside her house as quickly as she was able with the pounding in her head. She had to talk to some one about this and now. Even though she had talked her way out of one problem, she feared that she had in effect placed herself in a worse situation. Calling Giles was out of the question; there was only one person who could possibly understand her predicament.
Part Five D
Angel walked into his old apartment cautiously, hesitant to return to the place where he had hurt his lover more than he dared imagine. The vampires’ mansion had served as his home since Giles and Buffy’s friends had brought him back from Hell, but he had found that the disturbing memories it exposed were too much for him. Hopefully, the apartment would hold some reminders of the good times within its walls. Besides, it was this or sleeping in Whistler’s hotel room, and he found himself much more fond of the former.
He placed a hand on the material of the bed comforter, and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes as he remembered Buffy’s birthday. She had accepted the demon in him and trusted him nonetheless that night, and he repaid her by losing his soul and stalking her for four long months. As he came out of his guilt-trip for a moment, Angel noticed that the crinkles on the bed sheets indicated that someone had been using it to rest on.
Knowing who it was -- for she was the only other person aside from him with a key -- Angel glanced around for any sign that she had been there. He laid his hand on the side of his wardrobe as he glanced around the room, but nothing else seemed disturbed. When he removed his clean hand from the wood, he bit his lips to hold back the tears that once more threatened to fall; Buffy had dusted. “My God, that poor thing came here and cleaned my apartment so if I ever got back...Oh my God, Buffy, what did I do to you?”
He was unable to answer himself when the phone rang noisily and echoed in the silence of the room. Furrowing his brow, he wondered who knew he would be here instead of at the mansion. “Hello?”
“Angel? Thank God you’re there. Buffy w-was cleaning all the time after you left. A-and when you didn’t answer at the mansion, I-I figured you’d, um, you’d be here. I...I-I have to talk to you...about Buffy.”
The moment he had heard Willow’s tone of voice on the other line, Angel knew it would be about his beautiful Slayer. It was the same timbre Buffy had in her voice whenever her friends were in danger. Worried about the fear that was practically dripping from her words, Angel asked, “Willow, what happened? Did she hurt you on the way home? Threaten you?”
On the other end, Angel heard her choked sob, but he received no answer. “Come on, you can tell me. Getting it out in the open will help you feel better. I promise I won’t tell Giles if you don’t want me to.”
Knowing Willow well through all that Buffy had told him, Angel suspected she would not have contacted him instead of the Watcher unless it could not be repeated to the British librarian.
Willow broke the silence after a moment of silence. “I ran into Buffy on the way home, tonight. She, uh, she didn’t hurt me, just like I knew she wouldn’t.” Angel was about to take a sigh of relief, when she continued, “She asked me if she could-could bring me across.”
Dread washed over him as he realized what Willow must have done to be talking to him now. “You said yes, didn’t Willow?”
Her anguish was evident in her voice as she said helplessly, “What was I supposed to do? She would have killed me, Angel. I-I don’t want to die. The only way out was to tell her I’d do it, but I needed time...I know I was wrong to walk home alone with my injury, but what was done was done. I had to think of a way out of it. That and...” She stopped talking then, but Angel was able to pick up on what she had wanted to say.
“A part of you wanted it, right? Living forever -- even though it wouldn’t be you and you *know* better than to want it -- still sounded appealing.”
Defensively, Willow said, “That’s not it at all. I-I mean, not entirely. Angel, a part of me wanted it because I miss her so much. I don’t have Xander anymore, and with Buffy gone--...It’s hard. She was my bestest bud...I freaked when she asked...She also gave me Spike’s cell phone number in case I wanted to talk.”
As he shook his head, Angel said, “I don’t like the sound of that, Willow. I just have this sinking feeling that she’s up to something...Okay, Willow, listen to me on this one -- don’t call that number. Just because you think there’s a part of Buffy reaching out to you, doesn’t mean it’s not a trap. We’ll talk to Giles about this tomorrow. In the meantime, I suggest you get some rest. Somehow I doubt tonight did much for your head.”
He waited until he heard her mumbled agreement, laden with exhaustion, before he said, “Willow, if you ever need some one to talk, I know I’m not the most ideal person but--...Any time, okay? Just please don’t call that number. Good night.”
After hanging up the phone, Angel glanced at a framed picture that Buffy had given him and sighed. It was of her, Willow, Xander, and Giles. He could only hope that one day soon, the four of them could have the opportunity to be reunited.
Across town, Willow lay against the pillows on her bed with the phone still cradled in her hand. Angel’s last words played over and over in her mind relentlessly. ‘Just don’t call that number.’ She glanced over at the photograph of the original Slayerettes once more and felt the tears begin to fall. As she continued to stare at the representation of what she had lost in such a short time, Willow knew deep in her heart that she would call.
* * *
Fiddling with her fingers, Willow remained silent as she and Oz walked towards the library the next evening, the boy on crutches. During most of the drive to the school, she had merely gazed out the window, still caught up in all that had happened the previous night. It certainly was not that she wanted to become a demon and walk the night, but the attraction of having Buffy back in her life was difficult to ignore.
“Baby, I’ve kinda noticed that you’ve been making with the silence gig. I realize that I do the Joe Cool thing sometimes, too, but you’re kinda makin’ me all sorts of disturbed, here. I like the talking you. It’s not as to say that the quiet you is not of the good, but I miss Willow-speak.”
Smiling slightly, Willow said, “Sorry. I’ve just been in a daze all day. Ignore me.”
Oz grabbed her hand to stop her and kissed her gently. Pulling back, he looked into her eyes and whispered, “Never.”
Suddenly, a voice from down the hall called hopefully, “Oz, Willow, is that you?”
They were about to respond to Giles’ question when they heard Cordelia’s irritated voice say, “No, that’s would be the voices in your head...*again*! God, you need to get you ears checked or something ‘cause that’s like, the what -- *third time* you’ve heard them in the last five minutes?”
“Well, I’m most apologetic if my faulty hearing is an nuisance to you. Perhaps you would prefer if I went and stood out in the blooming night with all the vampires and assorted fiends of the Hellmouth so that you may have your peace for a moment in--...Oh, Willow, Oz...there you are,” Giles said, clearly relieved that he would not have to be alone with Cordelia any longer.
Oz waved his hand in greeting and asked, “So the question is -- why are standing outside the library instead of standing *inside* the library?”
Before Giles could reply, Angel walked up and said, “Giles was waiting for us all to be here.”
Nodding, Giles said, “Y-Yes, yes that’s true. Star is...quite the opposite of Buffy, and being her replacement, I thought it best for to-to go in as a group. Right then, I suppose I should introduce you all. And do remember that Mr. O’Toole will not put up with some of the things I take, so be mindful of what you say and how you act...Shall we?”
As they filed into the library, a teenage girl and a man that appeared to be slightly younger than Giles stood up. The girl, presumably Star, was a few inches taller than Buffy with green eyes that were much colder than their Slayer’s own. Her long auburn hair was pulled into a bun and nestled atop her head. The outfit she wore was all black; a tank top -- which was a bit more conservative than Buffy liked -- pants and shoes that all served as a striking contrast to the color of her hair. A large, silver Celtic cross hung around her neck and glistened when the lights over-head hit it.
Giles said with hint of resentment, “This would be Star and Mr. Craig O’Toole. They are from the *Irish* branch of the Council. They have always been most...hestitant to collaborate with the main Council. Am I correct, sir?”
The man, who Willow thought could have been Giles’ double -- save for his chestnut brown hair and absence of glasses -- smiled slightly. “I suppose you are...Hello, all of you. Mr. Giles has informed us of your associations with the last Slayer. While I, myself, do not necessarily condone this, I certainly welcome any help you are willing to give towards Star’s role in Sunnydale.”
His voice had a soft Irish accent while he spoke normally, but it was pronounced as he continued formally to the group, “I am Mr. Craig O’Toole, the Watcher to this generation’s Slayer. It is my honor to give you Star, Miss Buffy’s replacement. We are both pleased to meet you all.”
As Star nodded to the group, Angel whispered under his breath, “Swell.”
Eyebrow raised, Mr. O’Toole turned towards him and asked, “Is that a disparaging remark towards my Slayer, vampire?”
With just a hint of a sneer, Angel practically growled, “Don’t...call...me...vampire.”
“Well, then I’d imagine you would not be criticizing my Slayer anymore. She may not be the whore that Buffy was, but I’m sure you’ll get along just fine. I *do* request a ‘hands-off’ policy with her, though. Why Mr. Giles ever let his Slayer involve herself with you--...Ah, well...Such is the way of the past, is it not?...Well, then, if we’re done here, I would like for Star to get to her workout.”
Star walked around the table as the others backed away to give her space. Before she began, she turned towards them and said with a floating Irish accent, “I’m sure we’ll get along nicely, the lot of us. Just as soon as I rid Sunnydale of your old Slayer, we can sit down and have a chat...Mr. Giles? Would it be all right if we met tomorrow afternoon so you could fill me in on Buffy? I’d like to know her strengths, weaknesses, and the like before I face her in battle. We can discuss a time as soon as I’m through with Mr. O’Toole.”
After back to her Watcher, Star began to throw punches at him. Angel leaned in towards the group and whispered in a low, rumbling growl, “I don’t *like* them.”
Cordelia nodded as she looked at the Slayer. “I know. The outfit is living in a place beyond plain--...What? Oh, yeah, and she shouldn’t want to kill Buffy. I mean she *should*, but...you know.”
“I don’t *like* them,” Angel growled again as he watched the Slayer’s messy high kicks.
Giles looked at the vampire and said, “Y-Yes, I believe we got that part...What I’m concerned about it the possibility that Star may get to Buffy before that Whistler fellow has a chance to find a curse for her. We must try to get her away from Buffy at all costs...for our friend’s sake.”
Willow raised her hand. “When I was walking home last night, I-I heard Buffy talking to Spike, and-and I guess all three of them are leaving town until sometime around Halloween. That should be enough time do something, right?”
After pondering this for a moment, Giles simply said, “Perhaps.”
“I don’t *like* them.”
With a tiny smile, Oz turned towards the vampire and said, “You have dealing issues, don’t you?”
When Angel merely glared in response, he added, “N-not that I meant anything by it, man...We all hate them.”
Nodding, Willow said, “But here they are, and Buffy’s--...Buffy’s not.”
She turned her attention back to the the teenage girl practicing her roundhouses with Mr. O’Toole and sighed. This Slayer was no Buffy Summers. Willow refused to believe that Whistler would be anything but successful in finding a cure for Buffy. This could not be the end; it could not be. It was time for Buffy to return and bring with her the ability to make their group whole, again.
Giles must have sensed her melancholy, for he placed a fatherly hand onto her shoulder. “Into each generation, a Slayer is born. *One* girl in all the world. A Chosen One. One born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires. To stop the spend of their evil, and the swell of their numbers.”
As he brushed his fingers over his Claddagh ring, Angel whispered, “She is the Slayer.”
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