"Chosen"

Author: Deb Nockels
Email: Debnockels@aol.com
Notes: Here I am, fixing Joss's mistakes as usual. ;-) I hated that, in the show, Angel just meekly left Sunnydale - so in this fic he doesn't.
Thanks: To my beta-readers, Janice and Anja, who always have a word of encouragement and help. Thank you so much; you're the best!

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Caleb’s fist connected with her face, again. Buffy sprawled on the floor, stunned both physically and mentally by the force of his blows. Where had this added strength come from? He hadn’t been this powerful the last time they fought.

"I was kind of hoping it would go this way." His voice was genial, matching the smile on his face.

Bracing herself with her arms, Buffy looked blearily up - and up - at Caleb as he raised the Scythe high. In another second she would feel its killing bite. Her brain was screaming at her to do something - roll, scuttle, crawl even, just get the hell away! - but she couldn’t move. Her legs didn’t seem to be working and her arms were so weak they barely supported her as it was.

(No! This can’t be happening! The Scythe is mine to use, not his. That’s what the inscription said; Spike told me!) But it was happening. She waited for the blade to fall, numb with the bitter realization that this time she’d failed. The Apocalypse would not be stopped and the First Evil would take over the earth.

"Hey!" someone said, and Caleb spun around. The next moment the Scythe clattered to the floor and he was on his back and sliding headfirst into a stack of miscellaneous barrels and crates. At first Buffy only stared dazedly at his motionless form, wondering what the hell had happened. Then she looked over to where the voice had come from. Her jaw dropped.

(It can’t be.)

Buffy was still gaping as Angel turned in her direction. A little smile curved his mouth. Reaching out, he helped her up.

"I was never much for preachers," he quipped.

"Angel," was all she could say, still amazed by his unexpected appearance. His cool touch was as familiar as if it hadn’t been close to two years since she’d last felt it. Slowly, reluctantly, she let his hand slide away.

His eyes quickly surveyed her. "You look good."

"You look timely," she replied honestly, then smiled back. "And also good." Which he did. Even though he didn’t appear to have aged a day since they last saw each other, she sensed an added maturity and strength in him. And something else, something in his eyes beyond the warmth she was accustomed to seeing there, a deep, hidden pain. Behind her back, scuffling sounds indicated that Caleb was regaining his feet, and she jerked her mind back to the present crisis.

"I heard maybe you needed a hand," Angel told her. His gaze went past her shoulder, changing to the cold intensity of a predator. He started forward. She put out a restraining hand. He looked at her, then smiled. "Ah. One of those things you have to finish yourself."

Buffy smiled, glad that he wasn’t indulging in any macho crap. But then, when had he ever when it came to her slaying? "It really kinda is."

Still smiling and holding her gaze, he backed away, then turned and walked over to a nearby wall. Folding his arms, he leaned against it with an anticipatory grin. "You are so gonna lose," he remarked smugly to the enraged ex-preacher.

Buffy grabbed the Scythe off the floor just in time to meet Caleb’s headlong charge, and then it was the usual flurry of punches, kicks, dodges and parries. At one point she heard Angel say, "God, I’ve missed watching this," and even in the midst of battle a part of her responded with a joyous thrill so intense it was almost savage.

Then the Scythe was slicing through Caleb’s midriff as if it were butter, and Caleb staggered back. He looked down at the wound and began laughing, a dark, deep, eerie laugh. Reeling away, he clutched at the curtains, which tore loose from their support, settling over him like a shroud as he collapsed only a foot away from the dead Guardian, his latest victim. Slightly out of breath, Buffy looked over at Angel.

"See?" she said. "Under control." The proud beam on his face as he strolled toward her made her glow. He stopped a couple of feet away.

"At least you could tell me you’re glad to see me," he said lightly, but beneath his surface confidence she detected a trace of uncertainty. Immediately she flashed back to their last meeting.

("You could at least say you’re glad to see me," she managed to say. A second later his arms caught her up and he was kissing her, wildly, with desperation, as though afraid she would vanish at any moment, whispering her name in between kisses, holding her so tightly she felt her ribs creaking, but she didn’t care. The world could have ended right then and there without her even noticing. Nothing else mattered - not being yanked out of Heaven by her friends, not Dawn, not the pressing financial worries. At that moment there was only Angel’s embrace.)

The Scythe hit the floor with a dull clank! Buffy took two steps forward and their lips met. She felt the soft texture of his jacket beneath her fingers and the movement of his arms curving around to hold her close, and then the world stood still. His kiss was everything she’d remembered, his mouth fitting perfectly against hers, the soft pressure of his lips and body both electrifying and comforting at the same time. He was here, and he was hers and she was his, just as it had been almost from the beginning and as it would continue to be for as long as they lived, regardless of Riley or Spike or anyone else who might enter her life in the future, assuming she got through this.

("Always.")

The seconds ticked away and still they remained locked together, hands roaming, mouths and tongues hungrily exploring. Finally, with a long sigh, Buffy ended it.

"Well, I guess that qualifies as happy to see me, " Angel murmured huskily.

"Angel, what are you - " She stopped, looking into his eyes. "No. Don’t even. I just want to bask." And remember the last time she’d felt this warm, this giddy with love ... that night two years ago.

("I know," she breathed, blinking away her own tears. "I was watching you, Angel, and I wanted so badly to comfort you, but I couldn’t.")

(Puzzlement briefly peeked through his emotion. "You were watching me? How?")

("How doesn’t matter," she told him, softly caressing his cheek. "Kiss me, please?")

(And he did, over and over until she was breathless and dizzy, until both knew it had to stop, right then, or they would pass the point of no return. They spent the remaining hours in a close embrace, catching up on what had been happening in their lives and exchanging occasional restrained caresses, careful not to push the boundaries of safety.)

From the look on Angel’s face he too was basking, and remembering. He bent his head and she rose up on tiptoe to meet him. They kissed again, slowly, deeply ... tenderly. When at long last they separated, it was with utmost reluctance. But as tempting as it was to remain there in Angel’s arms, Buffy knew she couldn’t afford to do so.

"Okay, I’m basked," she sighed. "Angel, what are you doing here?"

His mouth quirked. "Not saving the damsel in distress, that’s for sure."

"You know me," Buffy said lightly. "Not big with the damselling."

Angel walked over to the other side of the chamber, saying, "You’ve got your share of distress, though."

"And then some," agreed Buffy, watching him curiously. "You heard?" He retrieved something from a niche in the wall - an accordion folder?

"I got coverage on the whole thing," he said, holding up the folder. "Very gripping. Needs a third act."

"You have to get out of L.A.," she told him, only half-joking.

"It’s The First, right?" He faced her. "First Evil? The Power that tried to convince me to kill myself a few years ago? It’s back."

"Yeah. It’s gotten a little more ambitious since then. It’s raising an army now."

Angel answered, firmly, "Well, It failed before and I’m here to tell you - " Something hit his head from behind, cutting him off in mid-word. He slid over the floor, crashed into the wall, and lay there, unmoving.

To Buffy’s disbelief and consternation she saw Caleb, bleeding dark, thick blood from his eyes and mouth, wielding a statue or urn or something equally deadly. "You ready to finish this, bitch?" he snarled in a deep, echoing voice. He rushed at her, swinging the heavy weapon.

She blocked it with the Scythe, but the power behind the attack sent her stumbling back. "Okay," she panted, "how many times do I have to kill you? Ballpark figure."

"You understand nothing," he growled, coming after her. They battled, and Buffy realized with panic that the revived Caleb was even stronger than before and that her best efforts barely rocked him. In a swift move that took her by surprise, he lifted her bodily up to the ceiling, one hand holding the handle of the Scythe where it spanned between the grip of her hands, and one hand against her stomach; and there he held her despite her attempts to wiggle free. Then, suddenly he let go and the ground came rushing up to meet her. She landed with a cry of surprise and pain.

"You think you have power over me?" Caleb continued. "I am everything. Everywhere."

"Speech getting old," Buffy told him, regaining her feet. She tightened her fingers around the Scythe, which surprisingly still remained in her grip.

"Stupid girl!" Contempt dripped from the preacher’s unworldly voice. "You’ll never stop me. You don’t have the -"

Buffy spun the Scythe through a series of swift circles, then drove it upward in a powerful underhand arc. Caleb’s gloating ended in a choking gasp as the shining blade clove through the juncture of his legs. Eyes distended and mouth gaping in a silent scream, he glanced down.

"Who does nowadays?" she gibed, and with all her Slayer strength ripped the blade upward through the entire length of his body, until it shot free from the top of his head. With a wet, sucking sound the two halves of Caleb separated, one side collapsing to her right, the other to her left. Blood spattered everywhere, but there was much less of it than she’d expected. Panting, Buffy leaned on the Scythe.

Over in the corner Angel stirred, then jumped to his feet. "Okay, now I’m pissed!" he announced fiercely. "Where is he?" His eyes darted from side to side, searching the room for his attacker.

Buffy looked over at one of the Caleb halves. Angel followed her glance down, first to his left then to his right. Stunned, he then looked at her. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

"He had to split," she explained, and broke into an uncontrollable snort of laughter. Angel’s mouth twitched; then he too began laughing. "Sorry," she tried to apologize, but dissolved in laughter again. Finally Buffy wiped her eyes. "Sorry. I haven’t had a good pun in a while."

"That would still be the case," he replied, chuckling, as he went over to retrieve the file he’d dropped when Caleb used his head for batting practice.

"Hey!" she retorted, wiping blood off her face. "My kill, my wordplay."

Angel held up his hands in surrender. "You’re right. I’m out of line."

She smiled at him. "I’m still glad you’re here." Angel handed her the file. Opening it, she drew out some papers, scanned them quickly, then replaced them. "I’ll have Giles and Willow go through this, see if there’s anything new. Reliable source?"

"Not even remotely," Angel stated wryly.

"Well, any port in an apocalypse," she returned, equally wry.

He pulled an object out of his pocket. "I brought something else as well." Dangling from a long chain was a large gemstone of some sort with a lot of fancy metalwork around it.

"I can already tell you I have don’t have anything that goes with this," she said straight-faced, staring at it. "Whatever it is."

"It’s an amulet," Angel told her. "And it’s not for you."

Buffy blinked. "Splainy?"

"I don’t know everything about it," Angel admitted, "except that it’s powerful and probably very dangerous. It has a purifying power . . . or a cleansing action ... or possibly scrubbing bubbles; the translation isn’t - " He shrugged. "Anyhow, it bestows strength when worn by the right person."

"And the right person is ..." Buffy wanted to know.

"Someone ensouled but stronger than human. A champion. As in me."

"Or me," Buffy reminded him pointedly.

Angel shook his head. "No," he said flatly. "I don’t know nearly enough about this thing to risk you wearing it." Just as she was about to take umbrage he added, "Besides, you’ve already got that cool axe thing going for you." He gestured at the Scythe.

"It’s a scythe," Buffy said, mollified by the reminder of her own potent weapon.

"No, it isn’t," Angel contradicted. "Scythes have curved blades, like a crescent moon. That’s an axe."

Buffy cast her eyes upward. "Whatever. As far as I’m concerned it’s a scythe. No, it’s the Scythe. The Guardian gave it to me."

Angel glanced at the Guardian’s body and shrugged. "Fine. The important thing is you have your own weapon so I’ll wear the amulet."

"So you’re going to be with me in this?" she asked. She hadn’t dared hope that he intended to stay.

"Shoulder to shoulder. I’m yours," he answered, his eyes smiling intimately at her.

("Maybe I don’t want a friend.")

(Enigmatic, provocative smile. "I didn’t say I was yours.")

Buffy started to return his smile, then two thoughts hit her simultaneously and the smile faded. Twice now she’d almost been killed by Caleb acting alone, and there was still that immense army of Turok-han to be faced; she had to have a backup plan. Also - there was Spike. How could she ever explain that tangled situation to Angel? Especially when she herself didn’t really understand it. The mere thought made her cringe. So instead of thanking Angel, she said, "No."

He was understandably taken aback. "No, what?"

"No, you’re not going to be in this fight." She walked away, but he moved in front of her, blocking her path.

"Why the hell not?" His tone was more inquiring than aggressive. Or maybe "disbelieving" was a better word. Which, actually, she couldn’t blame him for. After all, if the situation were reversed - if it was his apocalypse and she’d offered her help and been refused - well, she’d be wondering if he’d been dropped on his head or something equally brain-damaging.

"Because I can’t risk you," she told him. Which was true, if not the entire truth.

"You need me," he replied. Which was also true, but -

"Yes," she admitted, "but I need you gone even more."

"Why?" he demanded insistently. His bulk filled the exit; there was no way out except over him, and she hadn’t reached that extremity. Yet.

Buffy looked him in the eye. "If I lose, if the First gets past Sunnydale, there’ll be a few days ... or at least hours ... before the rest of the world goes. I need a second front and I need you to run it."

Silently he digested this. Then he folded his arms. "Okay. That’s one reason. What’s the other?"

Her heart gave a startled thump. "There is no other," she declared. From behind her came a voice.

"Me."

Buffy whirled around. The very last person she wanted to see right now emerged from an unnoticed alcove. "Spike?" What the hell was he doing here?

"Spike." Angel regarded him without expression. "How long have you been lurking?"

Wondering that herself, Buffy noticed he didn’t seem surprised to see the other vampire. She tried to remember if Spike had been in Sunnydale when Angel left four years ago, or if she’d mentioned his continued presence at their last meeting, but her brain refused to cooperate; it was too busy worrying about the ramifications of Spike’s appearance here and now.

"Long enough," Spike said, then glanced at her. "Thought I’d see if you needed any help, but then tall, dark and forehead here showed up and it was clear three would be a crowd. You two put on one helluva a show - you should charge admission, make some expense money."

Buffy went cold. Thoughts careened wildly through her mind. (He was hereHe saw us kissHe’s hurtHe’s jealousHe’s going to tell Angel about usOh God how can I explainHe saw us kissAngel’s going to knowOh GodHe saw us!)

Spike nodded at Caleb’s remains. "Tidy job; congratulations." For a wild instant Buffy thought maybe the show he’d mentioned a moment ago had referred to her fight with Caleb; but then she came to her senses. He’d meant exactly what it sounded like.

"You came by to help." Angel cocked his head at the other vampire. "You expect me to believe that?"

Spike shrugged. "You’ve been away a long time, Peaches," he returned insolently. "Been lots of changes ‘round here since you left. Me helping the Slayer’s one of ‘em." Buffy swallowed, wondering if Angel could hear the thumping of her heart.

Angel studied him. "What did you mean, you’re the reason Buffy wants me gone?" he asked, reasonably enough.

Spike lit a cigarette and took a long drag, taking his sweet time about answering. "Buffy didn’t want you to know I was here," he said finally.

"Why not?"

Smoke trailed from the blonde vampire’s nostrils. "She doesn’t know how to explain me," Spike replied.

Angel snorted. "Neither do I and I’ve known you for over a hundred years."

"Bollocks," Spike retorted, taking another pull. "You knew me for maybe twenty years before you walked out on our little family. Anyway ... changes, remember? Things are different now. I’m different."

"I know," said Angel, startling Buffy - and apparently Spike. At least, his cigarette stopped halfway to his lips and he looked sharply at Angel. But then Angel added, "You’ve got a behavior modification chip that stops you from hurting anyone. Old news." And the cigarette resumed its progress.

"Um," said Buffy, wincing, "actually - "

Spike cut in neatly, "Actually, no, I don’t. Not anymore. Buffy got it removed a little while back." Smirking, he pulled at his cigarette. Buffy winced again.

Angel’s eyebrows shot upward. He looked from Spike to Buffy. "Now I understand why you didn’t want to have to explain. You deliberately removed the only thing that’s kept him from turning back into a cold-blooded killer? I can’t wait to hear why."

Spike’s lips curved, but Buffy spoke quickly before he could get in another barbed remark. "He has his soul."

After a moment Angel said, very politely, "Excuse me?"

Spike’s smile at him was insufferably smug; Buffy longed to knock it off his face with her fist. "You heard the lady," he drawled. "I. Have. My. Soul. Got it back last year, didn’t I?" With a flick of his fingers his cigarette arced away, landing with a spray of sparks on the floor. He ground it out with his shoe.

Folding his arms and leaning against the wall, Angel contemplated him. "Don’t know why I’m surprised. You always did copy me, Spike."

Spike straightened up with a jerk. "In your dreams," he scoffed.

"Hah!" Angel replied, rolling his eyes for further emphasis. "Who started the whole having a soul bit? Who made it the cool new thing? I’ll give you a hint: it wasn’t you."

Bristling, Spike stalked toward him. "You just can’t stand it that you’re not the One and Only anymore, can you? That maybe there are others like you!"

Angel unfolded his arms and stood straighter. "You’ll never be like me, Spike, not if you get ten souls!"

"Too bloody right I won’t," Spike declared, walking right up to Angel’s face. "If I’d thought for one second that getting a soul meant I’d end up like you, I’d have walked away from the whole bleedin’ thing!"

Buffy forced her way between them, shoving them apart. "Stop it! Or I’ll stake the both of you." She glared at them. "What are you, twelve years old?"

Still glowering, the two vampires reluctantly backed away. "Right." Spike turned on his heel. "I’ll be off then." He was gone before Buffy could say anything. Not that she knew what the hell to say.

"So it’s true," said Angel, his voice flat. His eyes, when she turned back to him, were opaque, revealing nothing. "The report said Spike was living with you, but ... I didn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it."

"He’s not living with me," Buffy hastily corrected. "Just - living in my house. Actually, technically, he’s not in the house either - his room is in the basement." Suddenly her mind replayed his words and she did a double-take. "What report?"

"The report from Wolfram & Hart about you that just happened to end up in the same folder with their Apocalypse information." His tone was ironic.

Wolfram & Hart? She remembered him telling her two years ago about the evil law firm. Involuntarily her glance went to the file in her hands, but Angel shook his head. "I took it out; figured you might not want anyone else seeing it."

"Why not?" She braced herself for the worst. "What did it say?"

A muscle moved in Angel’s cheek. "That he’s your lover."

"Not anymore," Buffy said quickly. "I ended it more than a year ago."

"Setting aside the burning question of why you got involved with him in the first place, if it’s over why is he still here and living in your house?" The words were precise, almost bitten off.

"He needed a place to stay." She came toward him. "Angel, you didn’t see him when he first got back, after getting his soul. He was - "

"Out of his mind?" suggested Angel sarcastically. "Desperate? Insane? I know; I’ve been there, remember?"

"Then you should have a little more understanding and sympathy for him," Buffy rejoined with an edge in her voice. She reined in her rising emotion, and more calmly added, "Besides, it was more than just that. While he was mentally ... unstable ... the First did something to him. We’re not sure how or even what it was exactly, but whenever he heard a certain song it triggered something, and the First was able to take over his mind - control him. Even though he still had the chip, he was attacking people without feeling any pain - or maybe he did feel it but it didn’t stop him, I don’t know." Sighing, she shrugged.

Angel’s stared at her incredulously. "He was being controlled by the First and you invited him into your house?"

"He needed help," she said simply. "You should be able to relate to that. Besides, we fixed the trigger thing so that it doesn’t work anymore." Deciding not to mention that this had been a recent event.

"Are you in love with him?" he demanded. After a moment, during which she searched for the right words - "I see," Angel said tonelessly, and stood aside to let her pass, his expression blank.

"Angel." Buffy put her hand on his arm. "I’m not in love with Spike."

"But?" he asked. When she didn’t immediately reply, he added, "I know you, Buffy. There’s more to it than just you’re not in love with him. What is it?"

She sighed and looked him full in the face. "He does have a place in my heart."

Angel’s mouth twisted. "That’ll end well." He stalked out of the building, into the night.

Suddenly angry, she ran after him, catching at his arm to stop him. "And what was the high point of our relationship?" she demanded pointedly. "When you went evil, when I killed you, or when you left me?"

Angel briefly closed his eyes. His body seemed to deflate. "Touche."

Buffy’s anger vanished as quickly as it had sprung to life. "I’m sorry; that wasn’t fair."

"No," he said quietly, "you’re right. And I’m the one who should apologize. I have no right to interfere in your life when I can’t even be part of it."

"You are a part of my life," she insisted. "Maybe even the biggest part." His eyes, dark with pain, searched hers as she continued. "Angel, in spite of everything you’re still the only thing in my freaky world that makes any sense. But in the midst of all this ... insanity ... I’ve realized something."

Turning, she walked over to a nearby tomb and leaned against it. Angel joined her, watching her intently. She went on, "You know, I’ve always figured there was something wrong with me ‘cause I could never make it work with a guy. You, Riley, even Spike. But ... maybe I’m not supposed to."

"Because you’re the Slayer?" Angel asked, frowning a little.

"Because - " She paused. "Okay ... I’m cookie dough."

Angel blinked, giving her a look that plainly doubted her sanity.

Buffy disregarded it. "I'm not done baking yet. I'm not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I'm going to turn out to be. I've been looking for someone to make me feel whole, when maybe I just need to be whole. If I make it through this, and the next thing, and the next ... maybe one day I’ll turn around and realize I'm ready. I'm cookies. And then if I want someone to eat m - "

Suddenly aware of where her metaphor was leading, Buffy adroitly changed course in mid-word. " - or to enjoy warm, delicious cookie-me, then that's fine. That'll be then. When I'm done."

"Any thoughts on who might enjoy - " Angel hesitated. "Do I really have to go with the cookie analogy?"

She turned her head to look at him. "Do you really need to ask?"

He shrugged. "Just being polite; it’s your analogy." A teasing smile curled the corners of his mouth.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You know what I meant."

"I think so." He turned sideways to face her, serious now, eyes intent. "What did you mean?"

("Yeah. It is.")

Buffy felt breathless. "That I know if I ever really need you, all I have to do is call and you’ll be here. That no matter who’s in my life, you’re the one in my dreams - and that will never change."

"For me either," Angel murmured, taking a step toward her. "It never will." She went into his arms and they held each other close for a long, quiet moment, her face buried in his chest, Angel’s cheek against her head.

"I love you so much," he whispered into her hair.

"I love you," she whispered back. They kissed tenderly. Angel handed her the amulet. "Here. If I’m your backup, someone else will have to wear this."

Nodding, Buffy pocketed the heavy necklace. "I’ll get the second front in place," he continued. "You make sure I don’t have to use it." He took her hand. "Come on, I’ll walk you home. It’ll be like old times." His smile was bittersweet.

"But," she protested, "you need to get back to Los Angeles."

"Why?" he asked, seeming to be honestly confused.

"Why?" She stared at him. "Second front, backup - any of this ringing a bell?"

Angel raised one eyebrow. "There’s something you need to learn about, Buffy." He took something out of his pocket and held it up. "It’s called a phone. Handy little things. They let you talk to people and arrange things without having to actually be there."

"But - "

Angel grew serious. "Buffy, I will go back to L.A. - but not this minute. The gang can get things going for now." He pressed a button and held the phone to his ear. After a moment he said, "Fred, it’s me. Is Wes there? Good. Tell him to get on the other line, please; I have something important to tell you - and Gunn too, if he’s there." He looked disconcerted. "Uh, well, yes, actually, there is another apocalypse coming."

Buffy smiled wryly. It sounded as though Angel’s group had experienced their fair share of excitement too. Taking Angel’s hand, she tugged at it gently and they began walking in the direction of her home. While still keeping a lookout on their surroundings, she listened with one ear to his end of the conversation, getting lost in the welter of unfamiliar names. She recognized Gunn and Fred, since Angel had talked about them two years ago, and of course Wesley needed no explanation - but who was Lorne? Not to mention Lilah and Gwen? One curious thing she did note, and as soon as Angel concluded his call she asked, "Isn’t Cordelia with you anymore?"

There was a moment of silence, then Angel said, "Cordy’s in a coma."

Shocked, Buffy jerked to a halt. "What? How? What happened?"

Angel said tersely, "Extremely nutshell version, she was possessed by an evil Power, got pregnant, and gave birth to the Power which then assumed a human form - adult, not a baby. Cordy’s been in a coma ever since."

Buffy scarcely knew how to choose from among the dozens of questions chasing through her brain. "When did this happen?"

"About a month ago."

That rang a bell. "The same time the sun got blotted out over Los Angeles."

"Roughly," Angel assented. "There was also a rain of fire." Buffy nodded, remembering. Angel went on, "All the work of this evil Power."

"What happened to It?" she asked. "It’s gone, right?"

"Yes. Connor - " He stopped abruptly, his lips pressing together. "She - It - was destroyed."

Another new name, but it was obvious Angel didn’t want to talk about this Connor, so Buffy merely said, "And Cordy?"

"She’s being given the best possible care," he said, "and we’re hopeful."

They traveled the remaining distance in silence, hand in hand. As she opened the front door, Buffy said, "Everyone’ll be surprised to see - "

She looked up. Dawn was standing before her, arms folded forbiddingly in front of her body. Dawn, who was supposed to be in a car with Xander, safely on her way out of town and away from immediate danger. Buffy forgot what she was saying. Glancing to her right she saw Xander sitting at the dining table, looking very much the worse for wear. Anya stood behind him, her hands on his shoulders. At that moment Dawn, to Buffy’s astonishment, kicked her in the shin. Not a hard kick, but not exactly a love tap either.

"Ow," Buffy said instinctively, more out of surprise than because it actually hurt.

"Dumb-ass," Dawn said succinctly, glowering at her. Buffy glared at Xander, who threw up his hands. "Don’t look at me," he declared. "This is a Summers’ thing, all very violent, and I’m not getting in the middle of it again."

Buffy sighed in resignation and returned her gaze to Dawn. "You get killed, I'm telling." From the front porch came a loud clearing of the throat, recalling her attention. Dawn’s eyes went past her shoulder, and widened. "Angel?"

Xander and Giles looked up sharply. Willow got to her feet.

Angel smiled. "Hi, Dawnie." He lifted her off her feet as they hugged, Dawn giggling happily. Setting her down again, Angel held her away from him and gave her a once-over. "My God, I wouldn’t have recognized you! Where’d that little girl with the braces and the pigtails go?"

Dawn laughed. "She grew up. That’s what happens when you’re mortal - and also when you stay away so long." Frowning, she gave him a not-entirely-mock punch on the shoulder.

"Angel?" Willow was there, smiling broadly. "It’s good to see you again." She frowned. "Why are you standing out there?"

"Because someone forgot to invite me in." Angel gave Buffy a pointed look. She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about that. Please, come in." As she closed the door behind him, Giles got up and came over.

"Angel, I’m glad you’re here." They shook hands. Angel glanced over at the table. Anya smiled and Xander nodded at him. Shocked, Angel said, "Your eye - "

"War casualty," Xander told him.

"Caleb," Buffy added tersely.

"I’m sorry," Angel said to Xander, who smiled faintly. "That makes two of us." Then he added, "Thanks."

Anxious to change the subject, Willow hurriedly asked Buffy, "Did you find out anything about the Scythe?"

Buffy flourished the weapon before placing it on the table. "I found out it slices, dices, and makes julienne Preacher!"

"Caleb?" asked Giles alertly.

Buffy grinned smugly. "I cut him in half. I'm not going to lie, it was pretty neat."

"Well, all right!" Willow enthused, grinning.

"He had that coming," agreed Anya.

"Party in my eye socket and everyone's invited!" declared Xander. A puzzled and somewhat grossed-out silence descended. He looked abashed. "Sometimes I shouldn't say words." Anya patted his head comfortingly.

"I did find out some history on this puppy," Buffy told Giles. "I'll fill you in. And I got some files" - she handed them over - "that might be helpful, and" - she pulled out the amulet - "this. Supposed to be powerful, don't know much more."

"Where'd you get all this?" Giles wanted to know.

"Angel brought them," Buffy said, indicating the vampire.. Everyone turned toward him. "Angel?" Giles inquired expectantly.

"It’s a ... uh, a long story," Angel said. "Very long," he added, when he remained the cynosure of all eyes, "and, uh, very ... complicated. I don’t completely trust the source - in fact, not at all - but their research is incomparable." He shrugged. "It’s worth investigating."

When it became obvious that no clarification was forthcoming, Giles gave him a thoughtful look, then said briskly, "I see. Well then, Willow, let’s take a look at these papers, shall we?"

Dawn, who had mysteriously disappeared, came bounding down the stairs. "Faith’s getting out of your room, Buffy, so you and Angel can have it." Anya looked interested. Xander frowned, and Giles raised his head. Willow just sent Buffy an amused look and bent over the papers again.

Flustered, Buffy said, "No, we don’t, I mean, Angel isn’t staying - "

Angel interrupted. "Actually, I wouldn’t mind getting a few hours’ rest before I leave. It’s been a pretty stressful day. Days." And now that she had light to see by, the marks of fatigue and strain on his face were obvious. As well as that mysterious pain she’d sensed earlier.

"Of course, stay as long as you like." It was Giles, surprisingly, who came out with the invitation. Then he looked apologetically at Buffy. "Sorry. If it’s okay with you, of course."

"Of course it’s okay," put in Dawn, before Buffy could reply. "And it has to be your room, Buffy, because all the other rooms are full of Potentials. Except for the basement, of course. Spike’s not here but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if - "

"No!" Angel and Buffy said together. Buffy added, hurriedly, "Angel can use my room, if you’re sure it’s okay with Faith. I mean, she is still recuperating."

"Hey, I’m five by five," said a voice from the stairs. Faith limped down to join them. "Angel," she greeted him. "You’re looking good. Kinda tired, but good."

Angel surveyed her from head to toe. "I wish I could return the compliment." Although Slayer healing had taken care of the worst of Faith’s injuries, enough bruises and scrapes remained visible to warrant concern. "What happened?"

"Explosion," she explained laconically. "Booby trap. Didn’t get away in time. Coulda been a lot worse." She dismissed the subject with a gesture. "So you’re lending a hand here? Gotta say, I’m glad to hear it. This First Evil is a real bitch."

"I know; we’re old acquaintances," Angel said. "But I’m just catching a little rest before heading back to L.A."

"You’re leaving?" Faith asked with consternation - and with a rather unflattering dismay, Buffy thought.

"Angel’s our backup contingency," Buffy said quietly. "He’s preparing a second front if we fail."

"Operative word being ‘if,’ " remarked Xander.

"Operative word being ‘fail,’ " Anya muttered gloomily.

"Operative word being we," declared Dawn. Another puzzled silence descended, and she sighed. "No one gets me."

Ignoring them all, Faith gave a slow nod. "Good plan, B. I wouldn’t have thought of it." She sounded uncharacteristically humble, the result, Buffy knew, of believing she’d failed in her first attempt at leading the group.

Buffy made a rueful face. "I didn’t either, until Angel showed up offering to help. Then it kind of hit me between the eyes."

"I know that feeling," agreed Faith. "Well, the bedroom’s all yours again, B. You can take Angel up. I need something to eat."

"I’m kinda craving cookies, myself," said Angel, very innocently. Buffy felt a hot blush creeping up her cheeks. Faith looked mildly surprised. "Really?" she asked. "Well, I’m sure we’ve got some, do you want me to - "

"I was kidding," Angel told her. Obviously confused, Faith hesitated. "Oh. Okay." Shrugging, she headed for the kitchen, walking slowly and carefully.

"Ha-ha," Buffy grumbled, leading the way upstairs. "Quite the card, aren’t you?"

"Pink’s a good color on you," he observed. Glancing over her shoulder, Buffy saw a teasing smile on his lips.

"Very funny." She opened the door to her room. Faith had made the bed and the room looked presentable, thank goodness. "Here."

Angel followed her inside, glancing around. "You’ve changed things."

"Have I?" Buffy appraised the room, frowning. "It’s hard to remember."

"I remember," he murmured. "Where’s Mr. Gordo? You haven’t gotten rid of him, have you?"

"Never." Buffy crossed over to her dresser, where the stuffed toy pig sat in the place of honor. "Mr. Gordo’s been with me through thick and thin, and I intend to keep it that way." She heard Angel move, then felt the touch of his body behind her.

"Stay with me," Angel said quietly, so close the breath from his words whispered across her hair.

What was he saying? Buffy’s breath caught in her throat. "Angel - "

"Please. I need you, need to be with you."

She turned. There was that look again, that deep sadness. "What is it, love?" she breathed, touching his cheek. "What’s wrong?"

He covered her hand with his own, then shook his head, eyes closing. When they opened, the bleakness revealed tore at her heart. "Not now. I can’t. Maybe later, after this is all over." Suddenly he looked exhausted.

"All right." Leading him to the bed, she helped him take off his jacket, made him sit down, then knelt in front of him to remove his shoes. "Lie down."

He complied, but when she walked away he raised his head anxiously. "Buffy?"

"I’m just turning off the light," she soothed him. Doing so, she then made her way back to the bed, scooting in next to Angel. He turned on his side, gathering her in his arms and holding her close. "Thank you," he whispered.

"My pleasure," she replied softly. He smiled. She gave him a light kiss, then caressed his cheek. "Sleep now." Angel closed his eyes as she extended her stroking to include his temple and the side of his head. His hair was soft to her fingers. After a moment she peeked at his face. He was sound asleep. Buffy pressed another soft kiss to his forehead, then settled herself more comfortably and closed her own eyes. Might as well try to get some rest too.

---

Some time later she opened them again. Oh well, she hadn’t really thought it would work. After all, she could count on the fingers of one hand the total number of hours she’d slept in the last few nights. Too many thoughts and worries all competed for her attention.

Just then Angel rolled over onto his back, which enabled Buffy to carefully ease her way off the bed. Standing there, she gazed at him, his face calm and white in the moonlight, sleeping like one of the dead. Or Undead, in his case. Would she ever see him again, much less be in his arms or feel his kiss on her lips? Keep him safe, she prayed desperately to whatever Power or Entity there might be who cared.

Suddenly she caught sight of the digital display on her clock-radio, and stared in disbelief. Three o’clock! She had slept - for over four hours! Looking at Angel again, she knew she had him to thank for even that small amount of rest. Without the comfort of his presence, his embrace, it wouldn’t have been possible. It was almost time to wake him, but let him sleep a few more precious minutes.

Buffy crossed over to the window and stared outside at the night. Caleb was dead, for real this time (she devoutly hoped), but her vision of the ubervamp army, millions strong, had never left her mind. How could one Slayer, or even two, possibly defeat such a force? And although the Scoobies and the Potentials would also be fighting, she knew with a stabbing ache that the chances of any of them surviving this battle were slender indeed. But the hard, cold truth was that she needed every bit of help she could gather to fight the First, which was the only reason she hadn’t begged her friends to flee to safety. Okay, that plus she knew they wouldn’t go, any more than Dawn had.

Caleb suddenly materialized at her side. "Pretty, ain’t it?" he remarked, looking through the window with her.

Buffy started, but instantly relaxed. "You’re not him."

"No, you killed him right and proper," the First agreed, in Caleb’s soft, southern tones. "Terrible loss," It continued, facing her. "This man was my good right arm. 'Course, it doesn't pain me too much. Don't need an arm; got an army."

Buffy said in mock-consternation, "An army of vampires. However will I fight a bunch of - oh right, I've been doing that for years!"

"Every day our numbers swell," the First informed her casually. "But then, you do have an army of your own. Some thirty-odd, pimply-faced girls, don't know the pointy end of a stake." Gasping, It echoed her mocking tone, bringing a hand up to Caleb’s mouth. "Maybe I should call this off!"

"Have you ever considered a cool name?" countered Buffy. "Since you're incorporeal and basically powerless, you could call yourself" - she pretended to think - " ‘The Taunter! Strikes fear into -‘ "

"I will overrun this earth," the First told her calmly, with supreme confidence.

Buffy sighed. "You know how many people have said that to me?"

"I do, since they all had a small part of me in them. Whereas I have all of me in me, so I like my chances somewhat better. And when my army outnumbers the humans on this earth, the scales will tip and I will be made flesh."

"Talk on," Buffy replied in as bored a voice as she could manage. "I’m not afraid of you."

The First cocked Caleb’s head. "Then why aren’t you asleep in your dead lover’s arms?" Buffy glanced over at Angel but made no reply. The First went on, " 'Cause he can't help you. Nor Faith, nor your friends ... certainly not your little wannaslay brigade. None of those girlies will ever know real power unless you're dead. You know the drill - "

Suddenly It morphed into the semblance of Buffy herself, continued speaking in Buffy’s own voice. "Into every generation, a Slayer is born. One girl in all the world. She alone will have the strength and skill to fight the - "

It paused in the middle of the familiar spiel. "Well, there's that word again. What you are ... how you'll die." Familiar green eyes met her own straightly. "Alone."

Buffy remained silent, staring at her own image (which she admitted to herself was a very effective ploy), taking in what the First had said.

"Where’s your snappy comeback?" the First taunted her.

"You’re right," said Buffy softly.

The First considered this. "Hmm. Not your best."

"I’m drowning in footwear!" Angel suddenly called out. As a startled Buffy looked over at him, the First vanished. Angel woke with a jerk. Sitting up, he ran his hand over his face. "Weird dream," he mumbled, then glanced up at her. "Buffy?"

She didn’t answer. An idea was beginning to coalesce, and it needed all her attention. "What is it?" Concerned, Angel walked over. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she replied absently. Then, "Yes." She smiled slowly. "I just realized something." Looking up at Angel, she told him, "We’re gonna win."

"Uh-huh." Angel gave his head a brisk shake, as if to wake himself up. "I gather something happened while I was sleeping?"

"I had an idea, courtesy of the First. Come over here and I’ll tell you about it." Going back to the bed she sat down, patting the area next to her and arranging a pillow behind her back. Angel sat beside her and she told him her plan.

He was silent for a long minute after she was done, thinking it over. "I think it’ll work, Buffy. But ... things are really going to be different, afterward. There’ll be lots of difficulties to face. Have you thought of that?"

"Not really," she told him. "Because unless we do this there may not be an afterward for us to be worried about. We have the amulet, great, but we don’t know what it does or even how to use it, so we can’t rely on it."

Slowly he nodded his agreement.

---

Buffy came down the stairs slowly, pausing halfway down as she heard someone whaling away at the heavy punching bag. No, not someone. It had to be Spike; no one else could hit it that hard. Despite herself she was relieved to know he was safely back in the house. Basement, she hastily amended. He looked up as she entered.

"Well! Didn’t expect to see you here tonight. What’s the matter, your snuggly-bear snoring so much you can’t sleep, and you’ve got no one to talk to but good old Spike?"

"Angel’s gone back to Los Angeles."

(One last kiss and embrace, knowing they might well *be* the last, then one long, silent look exchanged before he got in the limo. Then the car was driving off, and she watched the red taillights vanish into the darkness.)

"Oh, just popped around for a quickie, then," Spike noted in a snide tone. "Well, he always was the love-‘em-and-leave-‘em type, in case you hadn’t already figured that out."

"Good," sighed Buffy, leaning against a support. "This is good. I didn’t have quite enough jealous vampire crap last night."

"He wears lifts, you know," Spike shot at her as he stomped over to the bed.

Buffy glanced at the punching bag, blinked, and looked again. On it was taped a crude drawing: the face of a vampire with long fangs, a comically high forehead, and dark hair shooting improbably straight up from the head. It obviously represented Angel, and just as obviously had been the target of Spike’s fists.

She shook her head. "One of these days, I'm just gonna put you two in a room and let you wrestle it out."

"No problem at this end," Spike muttered, reaching for his pack of cigarettes. It proved to be empty. Angrily, he balled it up and threw it away.

Buffy mused, "There could maybe be oil of some kind involved."

"Where’s the trinket?" Spike asked abruptly.

Contemplating a vision of Angel and Spike, naked to the waist and glistening with oil, locked together in a wrestling clinch, she didn’t follow. "The who-ket?"

"The pretty necklace your sweetie-bear gave you. The one with all the power. I believe it's mine now." He held out his hand.

"How do you figure?" she asked, taking the amulet out of her pocket.

"You need someone with a soul, but more powerful than a human," he reminded her. "Angel meant to wear it, that means I'm the qualified party now he’s scarpered back to La-La Land."

Buffy eyed him soberly. "It’s volatile," she warned him. "We don’t know - "

Spike interrupted, "You need someone strong to bear it, then. Or were you planning on giving it to Andrew?" He lifted a sardonic eyebrow.

"Angel said it was meant to be worn by a champion," she said slowly, thinking hard. Spike’s face fell; his hand dropped to his side, and he looked away. Buffy hesitated, but knew he was right. With Angel a hundred miles away and therefore out of the running, and with the ensouled-but-more-than-human restriction, there was no other possible candidate.

She held it out to him. He looked from the amulet to her face, as if doubting the evidence of his eyes. Then, slowly, he took it from her. "Been called a lot of things in my time, but - " He turned the amulet over, examining it. His eyes got a faraway look. "This is powerful."

She put her hand on his arm. "I want you to be careful."

"Talking to the wrong guy, luv," he said absently, still engrossed with the amulet. "Speaking of careful types, did I mention you’ve got Angel-breath?"

"I’m serious, Spike. This thing is probably dangerous."

He glanced up then. "And you don’t want anything bad to happen to me, is that it?"

"Of course I don’t."

"Why not?"

"What?" Surely he was joking. He must be.

He regarded her with that clear-eyed, transparent gaze that seemed to see down to her soul and demanded complete honesty in return. "It would make your life a lot easier, wouldn’t it - if I was out of it permanently? No more ‘torn between two lovers’ twaddle. You could go back to your honey-pup without any of that bothersome guilt on your conscience."

"I’m not torn - " Buffy stopped.

Spike smiled crookedly. "I know. You’ve been painfully clear about that."

"Spike - " Too many words were clogging her throat, as well as the guilt he’d mentioned. Reaching out, Buffy cupped his cheek and said the only thing she could honestly tell him, the same thing she’d told Angel: "You’re in my heart."

His eyes turned quizzical. Slowly, giving her every chance to draw back, he leaned forward. As their lips met, Buffy closed her eyes, bracing herself. But instead of the unsettling memory she was expecting, a flashback to the time when his unsouled self had tried to rape her, there came only tenderness - and longing. His emotions, not hers, and they came through strong and clear, bringing a prickle of tears to her eyes. His hands lifted to frame her face, and the kiss began to deepen. Gently but firmly, Buffy pulled away.

After a moment, Spike said, quietly, "Not much like the way you kissed him, is it?"

She couldn’t deny it, but for his sake tried to downplay it. "That was ... hello. I was surprised."

"Most people don’t use their tongues to say hello," he responded drily, then paused. "Or, I guess they do, but - "

"There was no tongues," she told him, lying through her teeth, then frowned. "Were no tongues? Was no tongue?"

Brushing aside her ruminations on grammatical accuracy, Spike snorted. "Please, luv! You’re forgetting I was there, saw the whole big reunion scene, and it wasn’t exactly rated PG. There was not only tongues, there were hands. In fact, I was surprised you two didn’t go at it right there on the floor."

Flushing, she moved away. "It doesn’t matter. Angel’s gone now, and being together isn’t in the immediate picture for us - even assuming I survive this apocalypse."

"Because of the happiness thing."

"Right," she said flatly, deciding to leave cookie dough out of this conversation entirely. "Happiness and Angel equals Angelus. So, togetherness not an option."

Spike seemed about to pursue the topic, but apparently changed his mind. He looked down at the amulet, still in his hand. "Well, sun’ll be up soon. Unless there’s something else you can tell me about this doodad - "

Buffy shook her head, and he went on, "Then I believe I’ll try to get some shuteye."

"Don’t get too comfy," she told him. "I’m calling a meeting at eight."

"A meeting. What about?" He looked at her searchingly. "You’ve got a plan."

Buffy nodded, smiling with satisfaction. "I have."

---

"Buffy!"

Spitting vampire dust out of her mouth, Buffy searched the cavern for the owner of the voice. It took only a moment to find him, spotlighted as he was by the bright sunlight streaming in from the open Seal, under which he was standing. Eyes widening, she gasped. Why wasn't he in flames, or at least smoking? Equally strange was the fact that not only was the amulet glowing - so was he. "Spike!"

Just then a brilliant, scintillating light burst forth from the amulet, so bright it made her squint. The dazzling rays swept around the room, destroying the ubervamps where they stood. In a matter of seconds there was not a vamp to be seen anywhere around. Buffy's jaw dropped, followed by those of the new Slayers around her, as they all gaped at the suddenly empty cavern. Spike was only an indistinct figure in the midst of the brilliance.

All at once there came a rumble, followed by a loud, hollow, groaning sound. And then the ground shook beneath their feet, and stones came tumbling down from overhead. Buffy heard a loud crack! and one stone wall split down the middle. More stones and dust rained down on them.

"Everybody out!" shouted Faith, sprinting for the stairs. "Now!" The other Slayers dashed after her.

Buffy raced toward Spike. His attitude was strangely rigid, with his hands splayed out as if he were transfixed in place, and she realized with a shock that the amulet was only magnifying and dispersing the deadly rays. The source of the light was actually Spike himself.

"I can feel it, Buffy," he said in an awed tone.

"What?"

"My soul. It's really there." His eyes turned thoughtful. "Kinda stings." More stones crashed around them. "Go on, luv," he told her. "Get out of here."

"You've done enough," she insisted anxiously, flinching as a piece of falling debris landed only a few feet away from them. "You can still - "

"No." He cut her off almost absently, his focus turned inward. "You beat 'em back, it's for me to do the cleanup."

"Buffy!" Faith yelled from the stairs, gesturing vehemently. "Come on!"

"Gotta move, lamb. I think it's fair to say school's out for the bloody summer." Was that actually a twinkle in his eye?

"Spike - " Buffy choked up, finally realizing his intention.

"I mean it," he said. "I gotta do this."

Even as she watched, his skin grew almost transparent as the light within him intensified. Reaching out, she threaded her fingers through his and clasped his hand. Surprised by the gesture, Spike looked at her. Moisture gathered in her eyes. At least she could give him one final gift. "I love you." Flames engulfed their hands, but strangely there was no pain.

His eyes also grew wet. "No, you don't," he said gently, with a little smile, "but thank you for saying it." The ground rocked beneath their feet. Buffy staggered for balance and Spike let go of her hand, almost shoving her away. "It's your world up there. Now go!"

She gave him one last tearful look, then bolted for safety. Behind her Spike said, "I want to see how it ends." As she scrambled up the stairs the sound of his laughter followed her, quickly drowned out by the cacophony of the Hellmouth being destroyed.

Buffy raced through the school's corridors, dodging the obstacle course of both falling items and those already fallen. She reached an exit only to find it completely blocked. The stairs were her only other option, so she took them. Bare seconds after she dashed through the door at the top of the staircase, something inside the school exploded.

She sprinted across the rooftop, smoke and ashes billowing around her. A glance over her shoulder revealed a chaos of collapsing buildings close on her heels. A block ahead of her, she spied the yellow school bus that had been their transport to the school speeding away. Gritting her teeth, she ran faster, barely keeping ahead of the destruction, desperately leaping over the gaps between buildings.

"Buffy! Down here!"

She glanced toward the ground and saw a black limo driving along the street. To her astonishment, Angel's torso protruded from an opening in the top, Wesley was leaning out a window, and both were gesturing for her to jump down. Angel ducked out of sight for a moment, then reappeared as the limo veered off to the right, bumped over the curb and onto the grass, and continued keeping pace with her, only much closer now.

Buffy spotted a large tree just ahead on her left. She leaped into its leafy foliage, grabbing wildly at anything within reach, managing to catch hold of a thick limb just as her feet slipped out from under her. For a moment she swung by her hands, then the limo pulled up beneath her and she let go, landing heavily on the roof of the car. Angel grabbed her arm.

"Go!" he shouted to whoever was driving. Engine roaring, the car lurched forward, fishtailing on the slippery grass. Buffy slid over the highly polished surface, but Angel had a good grip on both arms now, and only her legs went over the side. Her feet scrabbled for a second before finding the bottom of the window frame. That tiny bit of support held enough of her weight that she was able to push off with her toes and help Angel haul her inside.

He caught her shoulders as she slid headfirst through the opening, and someone else grabbed her legs, easing her feet down to the thickly carpeted floor. Breathless, Buffy sank back into a leather-upholstered seat and looked around. Angel, Wesley, a slender young woman with an eager, friendly face and long brown hair, and - she blinked - a horned demon with green skin and red eyes, wearing an unfortunate purple suit. Fred and Lorne, she assumed. Glancing into the front seat, she saw a dark-skinned young man at the steering wheel. Given his youth, his bald head must be from choice rather than necessity, and he probably answered to the name of Gunn.

"What's this?" Angel exclaimed anxiously, touching the bloody slit in her shirt where the spear had pierced her. "Are you all right?"

She turned her attention back, ignoring both his question and the burning pain of her wound. "What the hell are you doing here!" she demanded.

He arched an eyebrow. "She's fine," he told the others. Fred looked unconvinced. An amused smile quirked Wesley's lips, and Lorne just raised his martini glass in a salute.

Buffy persisted, "You're supposed to be preparing a second front in L.A."

Angel shook his head. "A second front, yes, but not in L.A. If you'd failed, we needed to be here, not a hundred miles away."

Wesley chimed in, "That way the First wouldn't have time to spread Its forces out, which would make it considerably more difficult to overcome them. We were deployed a block away from the high school."

Buffy opened her mouth, then closed it again. "You're right," she admitted after a moment. "I hadn't thought of that."

"But hey," smiled Lorne, "it's a moot point now, right? I mean, the Big Bad is history." His smile faded. "Er, it is, isn't it?"

"For now at least," Buffy confirmed. "Its army is destroyed."

"Even the First will need time to regroup after such a massive loss," added Angel. "Decades, if not centuries."

Only then did Buffy realize something. "Hey! How come you're not charcoal?" The windows of the limo were heavily tinted, which would provide protection, but he'd been in the direct sunlight while rescu - while helping her escape.

Angel held up his hand, displaying a massive gold ring with a large black stone in its center. "Protection spell, " he told her. "Like the Gem of Amara, but only good for twelve hours."

"Hey!" called Gunn. "The school bus is stopping."

"Pull up," ordered Buffy. Gunn glanced over his shoulder at Angel, who nodded. The limo rolled to a stop behind the bus. Buffy scrambled out just as Dawn pushed open the bus's Emergency Exit door and jumped down to the ground. The sisters embraced fervently.

"Are you okay?" Buffy demanded, pushing Dawn away to look at her.

"I'm good," Dawn assured her with a big smile. Buffy looked past her to the battered survivors emerging from the bus, and a knot of dread formed in her stomach. "Who - ?" She couldn't finish.

Dawn understood; her smile dimmed. "All the Scoobies made it except for Anya."

Only Anya? Oh God. Anya. Buffy closed her eyes in mingled relief and sorrow, then turned to look behind her. The town of Sunnydale was simply ... gone ... replaced by an enormous sinkhole in the ground. It reminded Buffy of a trip her family had taken when she was younger, to Meteor Crater in Arizona. Except that was old and dead, and this was fresh and ... well ... still dying, with rumbles and groans as the ground continued to settle, and dust and smoke rising in huge billowing gusts to hang above the site in a murky canopy.

"Oh my God," breathed Fred, wide-eyed.

˜I don't understand. What did this?" asked Giles, standing next to her and surveying the destruction. A shaky Willow, supported by Kennedy, came up alongside them, joined by Wesley and Gunn.

Buffy felt a renewed surge of grief. "Spike."

Angel appeared at her side. One by one the survivors who were able to walk were gathering around to gaze in awe.

"Spike?" Giles turned around. "What do you mean?" Faith joined the group, the last one out of the bus.

"He used the amulet to destroy the Hellmouth." Buffy thought that over for a second. "Actually, I think it was the other way around. It looked like the amulet used his energy to open a hole through the Seal all the way up to the sky, then channeled the sunlight through Spike and magnified it about a zillion times. When the light hit them the vamps just ... disintegrated. I mean, there weren't even ashes left behind ... and then the Hellmouth started to fall apart."

"What happened to Spike?" asked Dawn, looking subdued, as if she already knew the answer.

"He stayed - said he had to finish the cleanup." A tear rolled down Buffy's cheek; she wiped it away. Angel's hand clasped hers briefly, offering unspoken comfort. Dawn bit her lip.

"I misjudged him," Giles acknowledged. "You were right all along, Buffy, and I was wrong."

Buffy accepted his apology with a nod. A creaking sound suddenly drew everyone's attention. Down the road, the "Welcome To Sunnydale" sign swayed on its pole, then toppled with a metallic clatter into the gaping pit.

Faith observed, "Looks like the Hellmouth is officially closed for business."

"There's another one in Cleveland," Giles said, then when everyone glared at him, mumbled apologetically, "Not to spoil the moment."

"We saved the world," came Xander's contribution. "Again."

"We changed the world," Willow corrected, in a wondering tone. As Buffy turned to her, she said, wide-eyed, "I can feel them, Buffy ... all over. There are Slayers awakening everywhere." She smiled at Kennedy, who squeezed her arm.

"We'll have to find them," suggested Dawn. "We will," said Willow confidently.

"Yes, because the mall was actually in Sunnydale, so there's no hope of going there tomorrow," Giles commented, rather caustically, referring to the Scoobies' pretend plans of going shopping after fighting the First.

"We destroyed the mall?" Dawn demanded in an appalled voice, then shook her head. "I chose the wrong side."

Xander quipped, "All those stores gone - the Gap, Starbucks, Toys R Us. Who will remember these landmarks unless we tell the world of them?" Surprised by his facetiousness, Buffy glanced at him with concern. Was it was possible that he didn't know about Anya? But one look at his face told her he did. Xander was doing the same thing they all were, pushing away the reality of their losses until later, when they could grieve properly. Amanda's face flashed through her mind, dead eyes startled and staring into hers. She pushed the memory away. Later.

"We have a great deal of work ahead of us," remarked Giles.

Faith grabbed his arm threateningly. "Can I push him in?" she pleaded with Buffy. Willow raised a feeble hand. "You've got my vote."

"I just wanna sleep for like a week!" declared Faith, punching Giles lightly on the shoulder.

"Why don't you then?" suggested Wesley, speaking for the first time. "No reason you can't, now."

"I guess we could," mused Dawn, somewhat startled. "If we wanted to."

Willow said, "Yeah, the First is scrunched, so ... what do you think we should do, Buffy?"

"Yeah, B," said Faith, only half-joking. "You're not the one and only Chosen anymore. You just gotta live like a person now." Then she frowned. "Come to think of it, so do I."

"How does that feel?" asked Fred curiously. "Now that you're not the only one - I mean, two - you should be able to have normal lives. Well, more normal, anyway. I mean, you could even take time off, go on vacation."

Faith's face cleared. "Yeah! Cancun, here I come!"

Giles sighed. "While I sympathize with your feelings - in fact, believe it or not, I share them - I'm afraid this talk of vacations is premature. It's absolutely essential that we find the new Slayers and explain what's happened to them, before irreparable damage is done. Then we need to figure out how to train them all." He frowned worriedly.

Glancing hesitantly at Buffy, Angel said, "Well, I have just the place for you to stay while you're figuring."

"The Hyperion. Of course," said Gunn. His broad smile was echoed by Wesley and Fred.

"What's the Hyperion?" Kennedy wanted to know.

"It's my place," Angel told her. "The Hyperion Hotel. Plenty of rooms for everyone." Buffy still hadn't responded, so he added, even more tentatively, looking at her, "Only if you want to, of course."

"Okay. Now who are you?" Kennedy asked. "All of you." Her curious gaze swept the Los Angeles contingent.

"Sorry. This is Angel," Buffy said. "He's ... an old friend."

"An extremely old friend," Xander contributed, in a very innocent voice.

Buffy sent him a quelling glance; Willow, an exasperated one. "And that's Gunn, that's Wesley, and Fred is over here." Buffy indicated each one as she spoke. "They work for Angel, and they were our backup."

Kennedy, along with the Slayers who had been in Sunnydale the longest, examined Angel with interest. "So you're Angel," she said. "I've heard a lot about you." Without giving him a chance to respond, she went on, "How come you're outside in the daylight without becoming toast?"

"Toast?" a new Slayer asked. She'd arrived only two days before the big battle, and apparently hadn't had time to catch up on the gossip.

"He's a vampire," Vi explained to her. "But he has a soul, and he and Buffy are an item. Or were, once upon a time." The young girl, who couldn't have been more than fourteen, looked more confused than appalled. "Oh," she said faintly.

"What is it with her and bloodsuckers?" Rona muttered under her breath.

"Protection spell," Angel told Kennedy, answering her question. She nodded, saying, "Well, a hotel sounds great to me. I can't wait to take a hot shower."

"Me too," sighed Willow. "And then fall into a bed and sleep."

Dawn said, "Buffy? What do you want to do?"

Buffy looked at Angel for a moment. "I think," she said softly, "that I want to learn how to bake cookies." A slow smile spread over her face. Everyone stared askance at her, except Angel who returned her smile with a radiant one of his own.

"Um, Buff?" Xander said, "I know I speak for everyone when I say, 'Huh?' "

"We're going to the Hyperion," Buffy told them. With one final look at the site of her former home, she turned. As she walked away, she slipped her hand into Angel's.

---

Buffy gazed around the conference room at the Hyperion. Faces were somber, reflecting the general mood. Each person there held a slender white candle. One week ago they'd all been preparing to assault the Hellmouth. One week ago there would have been a lot more faces in this circle.

One week ago, she and Dawn still had a home.

Giles spoke, heavily. "The Hellmouth is closed and the First Evil vanquished, at least for the time being. We won this battle, but not without great cost. We have gathered here tonight to honor our dead, those who gave their lives to help save the world. Young girls - "

Here Xander raised his head as if to speak, but Giles forestalled him with a look, continuing, " - most of them, yanked from their secure lives, chosen for a destiny few, if any, knew even existed."

Buffy and Faith exchanged wry glances, silent acknowledgment of their own initiation into the destiny of the Slayer.

Giles paused. "But we are also here for another reason. Sunnydale is gone - destroyed - and with it, much that we held dear. Not only have we lost friends and colleagues, some of us have also lost our homes and all our possessions. Although we can buy new clothes, find another place to live, get a new job, some things cannot be replaced. No longer can we visit the graves of our loved ones ... the photographs and other mementos we once cherished are no more."

Dawn gave an audible sniff, tears filling her eyes. The reality had hit her hard once they'd reached the safety of the Hyperion and the battle-induced adrenaline had drained away. Buffy put an arm around her sister, feeling a little guilty. On the ride to Los Angeles Angel had presented her with a surprise: Mr. Gordo. Acting on a sudden impulse, he'd made a whirlwind detour on his way to the high school and grabbed the stuffed pig from her bedroom. He'd also snatched one family photograph, but the boxes of photo albums that Dawn had taken from their mother's bedroom when Willow and Tara began living there were now lost in the enormous sinkhole that used to be Sunnydale.

Giles continued, "But although the more tangible evidence of their existence may be gone, they live on in our memories and our hearts. We will never forget them."

Angel, Fred, Gunn, and Wesley stood a short distance away - silent observers. Although not able to participate in the ceremony, they wanted to show their respect for the fallen as well as their sympathy for the Sunnydale survivors. Buffy glanced at Angel, saw the shadow in his face, and thought about the stunning revelation he'd shared with her a few days ago.

Giles murmured a word and his candle flared. "Jenny," he said softly, then turned to Willow, on his left. She touched her candle to Giles's, lighting it.

"Tara," she said clearly. Her eyes glistened with moisture as she turned to the young woman beside her.

"Molly," Kennedy said when her candle was lit. She turned.

"Amanda," said Chloe, and turned.

"Jonathan." Andrew turned.

"Anya," murmured Xander, his voice tight. "And Jesse."

"Solange."

"Ming Lo."

"Lucia."

"Ki'Lara."

"Zoe."

"Esperanza."

And so, one by one, flames sprang to life around the circle, each person uttering a name and lighting a candle in remembrance.

"Mom," whispered Dawn with quivering lips, the candle flame reflected in her brimming eyes. Then it was Buffy's turn. Touching her candle to Dawn's, she spoke the final name.

"Spike."

The circle broke, and the participants walked toward a table set against one wall. Ceremoniously, they placed their candles in the candelabra specially bought for that purpose. Giles was the last one up. He affixed his candle, then stepped back.

"Rest in peace," he said. There was a moment of silence, then slowly the group began dispersing. A few of the girls quietly left the room.

Angel went up to Buffy and Dawn. "You two go to bed. I'll stay here until the candles die down - see that nothing catches on fire."

"Are you sure?" Buffy asked.

He smiled at her. "You're both tired. Go on."

Buffy smiled wearily up at him. "Thanks." They kissed, then Buffy led her sister out. The others straggled after them. Angel waited a couple of minutes after the door had closed behind the last person, making sure he was alone, before taking a candle from his pocket. Reaching out, he lit it from the one he'd watched Buffy place there, and set it in the holder.

"Connor," he said softly. Someone came up behind him; a soft hand slipped into his. He didn't need to look to know who it was. "How did you know?" he murmured, the warmth of her presence easing his aching heart.

"He was your son," Buffy replied simply, as if that were answer enough.

Which, he acknowledged silently, it was. Together they watched the flickering lights. When the last candle had guttered out, they turned and left.

 

The End

 

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