Sky stared at her for a long moment, her expression confused, dismayed -- but not guilty. "What the hell are you doing here?" she finally said. Her crossbow remained aimed.

"I think that's my question," Buffy said. Between the physical and emotional shock, Buffy felt as though she might pass out any second. But she also knew she couldn't afford to do that. She had to stay focused. "You -- you killed Tam --"

Sky's youthful face set into a determined glare. "This is Council business," she said, her words sounding rehearsed, careful. "You're not to interfere."

"You're murdering people!" Buffy said. "That's not Council business. Sky, these are the witches who were going to help us with the Museum raid --"

She held out her good hand as she spoke. Sky skittered back, aimed the crossbow right at Buffy's chest. "Don't come any closer!"

Sky sounded like she meant it -- Sky sounded so young --

"You're not going to shoot me," Buffy said, making her voice soothing. It was easy; she believed it wholeheartedly. "I know you don't want to do that, Sky. I don't understand what's going on here. There's -- there's been some big mistake, or something --"

"No, you don't understand," Sky said. In the darkness, Buffy could see the glint of tears welling in the young Slayer's eyes. "No mistake."

"The Council sent you here to kill these people?" Buffy was beginning to shake in earnest now. Tam lay dead only a few feet away -- Tam, who had believed in Buffy and had died for it. "Why?"

Sky lifted her chin. "They trust me," she said. "I may not be some big famous Slayer or something, but the Council knows they can trust me."

"I wasn't asking why you're special!" Buffy snapped, then thought better of yelling at the person who had a crossbow aimed at her heart. "Sky, why does the Council want to kill human beings? People who want to help us?"

"I never asked why," Sky said. She shrugged, but her shaky, high-pitched voice gave away her emotion. "Council's got its reasons. Not ours to question."

"The hell it's not --" The rush of anger Buffy turned into a rush of something else; her physical and emotional overexertion hit her all at once, and her knees buckled. She stumbled back, sat down hard on the ground to keep from falling down. The stake tumbled from her trembling hand.

"Get up," Sky said.

"I can't," Buffy said, knowing it was true.

"You have to," Sky said. "You have to get up. You have to fight me -- I can't do this unless you fight me --"

Buffy remembered Noor's body hanging from its pole, remembered the deep cuts and fighting gashes on her face and arms. "Does that make it easier?" Buffy said. "When somebody fights you? Did Noor fight you?"

"Noor went off on her own," Sky said. Her voice was very small, very young. "We're not meant to do that, y'see? And when she saw what we were doing --

For a minute Sky looked younger and more vulnerable than Buffy had ever seen her. Then she squared her shoulders and repeated, "Get up."

"I can't," Buffy said. "I'm hurt. You don't mind cutting people down in cold blood, Sky. You've done it before --"

"Don't say I don't mind! I -- I --" Sky was shaking again. "They need me! The Council needs me. Because I understand, and none of you do --" She let out a thin, keening wail. "I'm sorry -- I wish I didn't have to -- I -- I like you."

Buffy's face was twisting up with her own tears. "I used to like you too, Sky. But I can't help you out now. If you want to kill me, you're going to have to do it with me here on the ground. I can't fight you. I don't think I can even walk. And what difference does it make? You're murdering me all the same. My pretending to fight you means nothing. You're the Council's good soldier? Then come on and do your duty. I've seen something I wasn't supposed to see. You have to kill me. You have to do it."

Sky stared at her for a long moment. Then she stepped forward and put the crossbow to Buffy's head. "G'bye, then --"

Oh, shit, Buffy thought.

Lightning fast, she locked her good hand around Sky's elbow and twisted. Sky cried out in pain and fired -- but the arrow only grazed the side of Buffy's head. Buffy pulled Sky down hard, knocking their heads together with as much force as she could muster. The resulting wave of pain and dizziness nearly made Buffy pass out, but she held on. Sky fell to her knees with a cry, but she viciously tugged her arm free of Buffy's desperate grip so that she could aim again --

Buffy grabbed her stake in her hand and struck.

Sky screamed -- or tried to scream. Buffy had hit her in the neck. Blood was spraying out, flowing down her chest, and she stared at Buffy for one long, shocked moment before she fell back.

Oh, God, no, Buffy thought. I -- I didn't mean to -- did I mean to --

She leaned over Sky, who was now convulsing in the dirt. "I'm sorry!" Buffy pleaded. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry --"

Sky spat blood in her face. Buffy looked away.

It took Sky another few minutes to die. Buffy sat beside her, feeling her own blood oozing from her reopened wound. Her clothing was wet through with blood, whether Sky's or Tam's or her own, and the night air was chilling it, turning it cold and damp and congealed.

The fire consuming the building continued to blaze. Buffy watched it burn.

After Sky had been dead for a few minutes, Buffy heard a rustling not too far away. Vampire, she thought dully.

Then something in her brain switched on again, and she thought, Oh, vampire.

Buffy tried to stand, but her legs were still too weak. Instead, she scooted back, pushing herself through the dirt until she could tip her body into the transport. She got to her knees to push the panel that closed the door -- just in time, apparently, to judge by the thump that sounded against the transport right after it clanged shut.

She dragged herself back to the driver's seat, managed to climb in. The transport was still running.

Beside her, she could hear the sound of vampires in feeding frenzy. Maybe the blood of a Slayer was too good to pass up, even cold.

So cold --

Numbly, Buffy touched the controls that would take her back to the Keep.

**

At one hour until sunrise, the Keep was silent. Buffy brought the transport into the Keep's bay, saw that the vehicle Angel, Xiaoting and Agatha had been using was already back.

She tested her legs and found that she could walk again, albeit shakily. She made her way through the stillness of the Keep to the lift, then punched in Angel's floor.

No sooner had she put her palm to his door than it slid open. Angel looked at her, his expression one of both relief and dismay. "Buffy, what happened to you? I went to your rooms when I got in, and when you weren't there -- I thought you might be here, but --"

Buffy swayed on her feet, and Angel held her, careful of her wounded arm as he eased her into the apartment and onto the sofa. He knelt by her side; the bloodstains on his tunic were the mirror image of those on her own. "You passed out, didn't you? I knew I should have ridden with you --"

"Sky's dead," Buffy said.

Angel breathed in -- in surprise, Buffy thought, but then he said, "I should have known -- the blood -- oh, God. You -- you found her?"

Buffy couldn't answer for a long minute, and Angel's fear began to settle into determination. "You can tell me later. You need help now. I was just about to call Frances --"

"Wait!" Whatever had been damming up the tide of emotion inside her broke, and Buffy began to sob. "You have to tell them the whole thing. You have to tell them why I killed Sky."

Angel looked at her in shock, and Buffy began crying even harder. "Angel, she was doing a burnout. Sky was. It was the witches, the ones that were gonna help us. Sky was killing them. Just cutting them down like it was nothing. She killed Tam right in front of me, and she was going to kill me too --"

"Shhh," Angel said. He looked at her for a long moment, then got to his feet. He began unbandaging the wound on her arm. "We'll do this up again later."

Once he had removed her bandages, Angel gingerly set about taking off her tunic. Buffy didn't help him, didn't resist, just kept sobbing.

"She said it was because they needed her, Angel. The Council. Why would the Council do this? Why would they want to hurt people?"

"I stopped asking why a long time ago," Angel said. "Can you stand up? Lean on me."

He knelt beside her again, and Buffy used his shoulder to brace herself as she got to her feet. While he stripped off her shoes and pants, she choked out, "She was just a kid. She wanted them to need her so bad. Nobody ever told her not to trust them."

"I know," Angel said. He stood up again and began guiding Buffy, now naked, into the bathroom. He punched the controls on the shower; water began pouring out, and Angel put his arm beneath it and frowned. "This feels all right to me, but I don't know what humans need. Is this okay, Buffy? Is it going to burn you?" When she didn't move, he held her hand under the water. "Concentrate, Buffy. Is this too hot? Too cold?"

"I can't tell," she sobbed. "I'm so cold, Angel."

He ran one hand over her smoothed-back hair, then released it from its tight bun in the back. Angel guided Buffy into the shower. She leaned against the wall, let the water flow down her body. Blood mixed with it, swirled beneath her as it went down the drain.

Angel went away for a moment, then returned to kneel by the open shower door with a tiny metal pick in his hand. Buffy continued to cry as he lifted her hands, one after the other, and carefully cleaned beneath each fingernail.

"I said I wasn't going to lose anybody else," Buffy said through chattering teeth. "I said I wasn't going to make that choice ever again. I had to do that to you. I didn't ever want to do it again. I didn't ever want to have to pick who lives and who dies ever again. I didn't want to kill my little sister -- it was better to kill the whole world, every world, than to kill somebody I cared about even one more time --"

"I know," Angel said gently. He finished with her nails, got a washcloth and began roughly scrubbing her body down. Water spattered onto his face, his arms; the bloodstains on his tunic blossomed as they grew damp. "Buffy, were there Watchers there?"

"I -- I don't think so -- if they were, I didn't see them --"

"If they'd seen you with Sky, they would have done something," he said. "So they didn't see you. Did you leave anything there? Anything at all?"

Buffy tried hard to concentrate. "My blaster," she whispered. "I dropped my blaster."

Angel's expression grew even more intense. "You said Tam's people were about five blocks from here, right? Is that the location?"

"Yeah --"

"All right," Angel said. "It's about forty-five minutes to sunrise. I can get there and back in that time." He shut off the water, took a couple of deep breaths as Buffy stood there, wet and trembling. "I can't smell any more blood on you," Angel said. "You're clean."

He pulled her out, wrapped her up in a thick towel, used another to dry her hair. Buffy's sobs were beginning to wane from pure exhaustion -- the aftermath of adrenalin overload and injury was dragging her down, lulling her into unnatural calm. "I didn't want to kill her," Buffy said. "We have to tell them that --"

"Buffy, NO." Angel grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her intently in the eye. "We're not telling anyone anything about this. A human killed a Slayer once, years ago, and he's still in the Tower. Buffy, you can never tell anyone. Ever. No matter what. You never breathe one word of what happened outside of this room, okay? Promise me. Promise me on -- your mother's memory, or Dawn's. Whatever's sacred to you. Promise."

"I promise."

"Good," Angel said. He quickly rebandaged her arm, then slipped one of his tunics over her head. "Go back to your room. Try to rest. I'll call you later on."

"My stuff --" Buffy gestured weakly toward her bloodied clothing, which lay on the floor.

"It's going in the incinerator," Angel said as he knelt down to bundle it up. "Come on."

They went out the door together; Angel summoned lifts that would take her up to her rooms and him back down to the transport bay. He clutched the bundle of clothing tightly, and Buffy swayed on her feet. "I can't ever do it again," she whispered.

Angel looked over at her, his eyes gentle, and she desperately wanted him to say, You won't have to. Nothing like this will ever happen again. Because he was standing there, so strong and sure about what to do, if Angel said it, she could believe it.

Instead he said, "I wish it were different."

"Me too," Buffy said. "I wish too."

**

When Buffy awoke, the first thing she was aware of was pain -- her arm still ached terribly, and her head was sore --

Memory flowed in next, and Buffy took in a deep breath as she lay there in her bed. She pulled the covers close around her as the events of the night before flickered through her mind. Uncertain, grainy images like the late night horror show --

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut.

Don't think about it.

After a few minutes, she could damp the memories down enough to control herself. She sat up and pulled off Angel's tunic -- a reminder that was easily stuffed into a drawer. Then she took the bandages off her arm; though a nasty, livid welt still throbbed from elbow to shoulder, the wound would stay closed from now on. She threw the bandage away, stared at in the basket for a moment, then got some sheets of paper from her reserves, crumpled them up and threw them in on top so she couldn't see the blood anymore.

The morning sunshine was streaming into her clean, white apartment. Her home looked pure, like something made out of light. She slipped into a tunic and pants that were just as white, so that she could disappear into it.

A faint wave of dizziness reminded Buffy that she was still weak -- which in turn reminded her why she was weak. She went into the kitchen to eat; unfortunately, with the busy day she'd had yesterday, she'd forgotten to go pick up her ration of food. Nothing was there except a few cups of muesli. Buffy disliked the stuff at the best of times; right now, she didn't think she could even stomach a mouthful.

The only alternative was to go out and get something.

Buffy considered her options. The ration area would be crowded, and the last thing she wanted to do right now was look anyone in the eye.

But the common room would still be fairly quiet at this hour, she thought. Even if others were there, they probably wouldn't attempt to socialize. And she could get some food that would tide her over -- maybe Angel could get more for her later --

Decision made, Buffy hurried on her way. She passed no one in the hallway. As she stepped into the common room, she was breathing a sigh of relief --

"Buffy!" Agatha came hurrying toward her, and Buffy's heart dropped. Against her will, against every self-protective instinct she had, Buffy began to cry.

Agatha looked at her tenderly, and Buffy realized that she was crying too. "You've heard, then," Agatha whispered. "You heard about Sky."

Buffy didn't answer. Agatha apparently took her silence as misery, and gently embraced Buffy. "So very young," she said. "Do you know she hadn't been a Slayer for four months? So unfair --"

"Unfair," Buffy repeated quietly.

Xiaoting walked up. Her eyes were dry, but she was biting her lip so hard blood was welling up. "Where the hell was her Watcher? That's what I want to know. I thought she was supposed to patrol with Sumiko last night, but I must have been wrong. No way in hell Sumiko would've let vamps get her. Just Sky's stupid idiot Watcher."

"And to think we nearly lost you too!" Agatha looked at Buffy, apparently remembering the incident at the Museum. "Dearest, are you all right?"

"I'll heal," Buffy said shortly. She wiped her tears away with the back of her good hand. If she let herself break down in front of Agatha and Xiaoting, she wouldn't ever be able to put herself together again.

And, worse yet, she wanted to tell them. Wanted to confess everything, ask them what Sky could have been up to, hear their shock and rage. Something terrible was behind all this, and they deserved to know.

But if I tell them, I put them in danger, Buffy realized. If they're willing to kill one Slayer, they'll kill others.

Markwith stepped into the room, Sumiko at his side, her expression so grave that Buffy knew they'd somehow made her understand. "Buffy," he said, his voice even. "How are you?"

"Been better."

"I'm afraid I have bad news."

"We already know," Xiaoting said. "Frances told us. Vampires murdered Sky." Agatha closed her eyes, perhaps praying as she heard the words spoken aloud again.

"There's more," Markwith said. "We have since discovered which vampire it was."

It took a minute to hit Buffy. The floor lurched beneath her, and her eyes went wide. "No --"

"Angel was caught as he returned to the transport bay," Markwith said. Buffy couldn't look away, couldn't stop listening, couldn't even pay attention to Agatha and Xiaoting's shocked cries of dismay. "He had Sky's blood all over his clothing. Little enough wonder, given the condition in which we found her body --"

"That's not right," Buffy said. She remembered the promise she'd made Angel, cast it off, let it go. "That's not what happened."

"I understand your reluctance to believe it," Markwith said. "Angel hasn't confessed. But he will not deny it, either. The evidence is rather clear."

"It's not clear at all," Buffy said desperately. "Angel didn't do it. I -- I can explain --"

"I trusted him," Xiaoting said, livid. "I thought he was some pretty storybook character, but he was just a vampire after all --"

"Xiaoting, no," Agatha pleaded. "Buffy is as shocked as we are --"

"No, God, please, listen to me --" Buffy put her hands out. Markwith took one of her hands in one of his -- then, with his free hand, jabbed something in her arm. "What the --"

"Better this than hysterics," Markwith said. Buffy knew he wasn't talking to her, because he wasn't looking at her --

His face went black-and-white, then black, as the world faded away.

*

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