Xander woke up in his bed, the sunlight streaming in through his bedroom window. He yawned and stretched. He felt so tired, it was as if he had not slept last night. An image flashed into his mind; Buffy lying on the ground, surrounded by thick, grey fog. Two purple welts at the base of her neck.
But as soon as the image formed in his mind it was gone. Xander sat up in bed, was that an echo of the Hellmouth? Something that had yet to pass? His dismissed the thought. 'Buffy's the only one to have visions, not me.' He thought. He couldn't really remeber what he had dreamt but two sentances kept repeating over and over in his head. His own voice, dispairing "I was too late" and Buffy's gentle, "You won't be"
Already the dream was vanishing, evaporating in the sensible daylight. There was a lot to do today, it was Buffy's seventeenth birthday, and he had a party to organise. It was strange that he had a dream about Angel dying the night after Buffy, maybe it was prophectic; maybe it was subconscious desire. Either way he'd worry about it later, if he didn't get a move on he'd be late for school.
Even after he'd left his room the echoes remained.
"Please forgive me for what I've done" "I'm not the one you should be asking for forgiveness."
"I was too late. . ." "You won't be . . ."
"You won't be . . ."
You won't be . . .
The End
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