Chapter Fourteen

They'd decided to start with their classmates first. The young citizens of Sunnydale who had beaten the odds by merely staying alive. They knew the things that went bump in the night, they'd lost friends and family to those things and had bravely moved on. They were survivors through and through, young people with haunted eyes and grim expressions that bespoke the sights that no one should have to see. And they were up to this final task as well, they had to be.

"What are you nuts?" Harmony cried out when Buffy finished talking. The cafeteria burst into sound as most of its young occupants fervently agreed with her.

"I told you we shouldn't have told them the whole thing," Cordelia murmured to Xander. "The gist of it would have been fine, we could have just skipped the 'we're all going to die' bit. Some people don't take that well, you know."

Xander spared a half-amused look her way, "I think it has to do with integrity," he replied, "never really got it myself, but it sounded important."

She gave him an evil look when she realized she had just been made fun of, then drew her attention back to the rapidly heating argument.

"I'm not going to do something that's going to get me killed," Larry yelled.

"Of course not," somebody shouted from the back row, "not now that you've finally found yourself!"

Larry turned a bright red as the room burst into laughter, "you know what they say about homophobes," he retorted hotly.

Buffy rolled her eyes, this was not what she had in mind when she envisioned this assembly. Disbelief and ridicule she was prepared for, fear and resentment was expected. A discussion on Larry's lifestyle of choice was definitely not on the agenda. She raised her hand, trying to get the noisy room to notice her, "this is important!" She tried, but her voice was lost in the shouting.

"Shut up!" Buffy spun around to find Cordelia standing beside her. The room hushed immediately, caught off guard by the cheerleader's shrill voice. "Bottom line is we're all going to die here anyway. I think we all figured that out at some point. The only question is how we're going to go about doing it." Slack-jawed, Buffy stared at her along with the rest of the senior class, "well I'm not going to die with just you losers," Cordelia murmured to the stunned Slayer, "if I'm going I'm taking this whole God forsaken town with me." The mirth in her voice was apparent, but the tall brunette's eyes were flaming with barely suppressed passion.

"Cordelia Chase!" Harmony rose to her feet disdainfully, "sick of playing your twisted games with your geek of a boyfriend and his friends so you decide to drag us all in?" Buffy groaned inwardly, the vacant-eyed blonde could very well destroy everything. Maybe she wouldn't be so quick to save the stupid airhead of a girl the next time a vampire attacked, the world would only benefit.

Cordelia was undaunted though, "are we going to die like sheep?" She asked pointedly. Harmony's eyes widened slightly and she sat back down with a discouraged thump. Buffy stared at Xander questioningly, but he simply shrugged. "We've been treated like sheep our whole lives." She began to walk between the rows of her riveted peers, her confidence growing as she spoke. "Our friends have died or disappeared, and no one will tell us why. Things happen here, bad things, and no one will tell us why!" Her voice grew to a ringing crescendo, forcing everyone to listen, "we've got the only school paper in the country that has an obituary column and no one will tell us why! So I'm asking you; are we going to die like sheep?" The ringing denial that instinctively rang out of everyone's lips seemed to shake the already damaged structure. Even the passionate Cordelia seemed humbled, though not enough to be stopped. "Or are we going to go like people and take that bitch of a demon with us?"

The room burst into sound as each teenager consciously threw away the shackles of a life clouded by ignorance.

"She should have gone into politics," Xander whispered to Willow, his voice barely carrying over the clamor that filled the room.

"President Cordy," Willow mused then shuddered, "now there's a scary thought."

"Did you notice how no one argued the existence of demons?" Buffy asked Cordelia as they both began to handout the written instructions that Giles had prepared earlier to their classmates.

The brunette merely shrugged, her beautiful face showing no surprise. "I guess even denial has its limits," she replied.

Some days it was great being the Slayer. Unfortunately today wasn't one of those days. The senior class had all memorized the words of the curse and was now spreading the knowledge among their families and friends. There was a corrupt sort of innocence in the way small groups of people huddled together with their torn and dirty clothes, mumbling the words that ultimately promised them nothing but death. As Buffy roamed the school halls aimlessly, the babble of the curse she had already memorized coming at her from all sides, she finally allowed herself to feel some of the guilt she'd been repressing. After all it was her fault all this was happening, hers from the very start.

Angel should have never been allowed to go on living, once she found out what he was. Yet she went against common sense and her sacred duty and not only had she spared his life she'd also fallen in love with him. From there her list of sins only grew exponentially going from allowing an evil demon to live and take lives, on to betraying her lover and destroying him and finally allowing herself to be fooled into lying to him, to her loved ones and to herself. Could things be any worse?

"I'll never be able to learn this!" Came Harmony's pathetic whine.

"Yes you will," Willow was saying through clenched teeth, "all it takes is a little concentration."

Buffy winced in response to her friend's obvious ongoing torture. Willow was normally a very patient person, but even the little hacker had her limits.

"But it's so hard, it's almost like," the vacuous blonde thought about it, "like school!" She finally blurted.

"Which is exactly where we are," Willow replied, careful not to let her exasperation show.

"Oh yeah," Harmony replied sheepishly. "You know, Willow, I always wished I could be smart like you."

The redhead's eyes widened with surprise, "really?" She asked timidly, "that's so sweet."

Harmony nodded enthusiastically, "yeah, but you know, I had to get dates through high school so I was too busy to work on that." She sighed morosely, "maybe I should have been more like you."

"No," the fledgling witch muttered, spotting Buffy trying to quietly scurry away as she spoke, "you were just fine being yourself." She gave Buffy an 'I'm really going to have a hard time forgiving you for this one' look before returning to her thickheaded pupil.

Buffy sighed, maybe some people did have it worse then she did right now.

"Buffy!" Xander called out from the opposite side of the hallway. He closed the gap between them in a few short strides, deftly avoiding the huddled groups of mumbling people lounging on the blankets that had been spread across the floor. He made a face at the odd words coming at him from all sides, "is it okay for them all to be saying the curse like that?" He asked nervously, "I mean we're not going to be starting it off by accident or anything, right?"

Buffy shrugged, "Giles says that as long as we don't say it all together we're in the clear." She winced as someone behind her stumbled over an especially complex formula, "little chance of that happening anytime soon," she assured him.

"Your mom was looking for you," Xander said, "she wanted to know what to do about the children."

"T-the children?"

"Yeah, small people, like to watch Sesame Street and eat ice-cream. There's more to Sunnydale then just teenagers and oblivious adults, you know."

She stared at him helplessly, "I didn't really think about that," she admitted.

Xander nodded grimly, "look, Buffy, it was bad enough teaching this to my parents. I'm not going to stand in front of a group of kids and teach them how to chant this stuff."

"No, of course not."

"And you won't either," he said firmly. "I'm thinking that when the time comes we leave them here with someone who can take care of them. Someone capable."

She managed a wan smile, "you're not talking about yourself, are you?"

He smiled back mischievously, "I said someone capable. My vote's for your mom. What do you say?"

She gaped at him, her mouth opened and closed but no sound would come out. Her mother's possible death was one of the heaviest burdens she had to carry, and he was relieving her of that, just like that. "Thank you," she managed to choke out, "but you better run it by Giles first."

"Actually," Xander's boyish features broke into a bright grin, "he was the one who suggested it." Suddenly embarrassed by the tears welling up in his friend's eyes he turned to leave, "I think I'll go break the news to your mom," he said as he walked away.

She nodded mutely, overcome with emotion. She sniffed loudly as she felt her tears rising up like an unstoppable tidal wave within her, she needed to find someplace to vent before she'd break down and start to cry in the middle of the hallway. Quickly she headed towards the one place she knew no one would be, the science room. With its disgusting smells and its thick walls she could wail away and no one would be the wiser.

With the tears already spilling down her face, she swiftly yanked open the heavy door and settled herself to crying by candlelight.

"Are you at peace with what you've done?" Came the unexpected question, "your certainty seems to be slightly lacking."

She spun around, thrusting the candle in front of her as a stake leaped into her hand, "you!" She spat contemptuously.

Completely at ease, as if the furious Slayer standing before him waving the sharp end of a stake his way was nonexistent, Gerrico smoothly stepped out of the shadows. "I thought we had an understanding," he said wryly.

"Oh yeah, we had an understanding all right," her voice rose as her emotions got the better of her. "You understood you were lying to me, and I got to understand that when it was too late."

"Lying to you?" He seemed truly baffled, his deep blue eyes narrowing in his attempt to understand, "when did I lie to you, child?"

"Don't you dare 'child' me," she hissed, her hand gripping her stake so tightly the knuckles were turning white. "I know all about your plague, all about what Angel did and why you wanted revenge. Even if it's going to cost you your own life!"

The elder's face clouded for a moment, but the emotion was too complex for the agitated Slayer to comprehend, "I never lied to you," his voice was calm, but with edges sharp enough to slice through the hardest of hearts. "When I said there was a plague I meant it. He was like a plague, like a fatal disease," his blue eyes never flinched through the worst of the memories. "In one night he destroyed what had taken over a millennia to build. Not one of my Anne's true descendants lived, and all that knowledge, all that life was gone in a night."

Buffy gripped her stake tighter, reveling in the pain the wood that was biting into the palm of her hand caused. She wouldn't allow herself to be swept away by his stories, not anymore. "And you forgave him just like that," she said maliciously, her sarcasm dripping like poison from her lips.

His harsh bark of a laugh surprised her, caught her off guard, "I did no such thing. I hunted him down for years like the rabid animal that he was, but when I finally found him I discovered I was too late."

Understanding dawned in her eyes, "he'd already been cursed," she whispered, her fingers easing their grip on her weapon.

"Yes," Gerrico replied, his features revealing nothing of his thoughts, "and when I saw him wallowing in the gutter, living off guilt and rats, I realized that nothing I could ever do to him would match the pain he was already in. He was a broken shell of a man, not worthy of my time. So I left him there and tried to forget about him."

Buffy swallowed hard at the images he thrust into her mind, then shook her head violently, he was fooling her again. He was clouding her mind with stories and pulling her away from the truth, making her doubt herself and her actions. "Why should I believe you now? You're nothing but a soulless ghoul! A leech on humanity! You've been walking the earth for so long without passion or purpose that you can't even remember what it's like to be human!" She was lashing out ruthlessly, but her heart would allow for nothing less, "what you made me do, the way you've made me betray him for your own purposes is unforgivable. But you don't even understand that, do you? Love and loss are just too human of emotions for you to comprehend." Her grip was firm on her stake, and her body was poised to strike, "go away," she said coldly, "I've had enough of your stories."

The elder's eyes widened as if she had just struck him, his sensual lips pursed together as real emotion finally ranged free across his regal features. "And yet you will listen to this one!" He hissed through clenched teeth. "She bore me four daughters, my Anne, four daughters and none of my blood. And I loved them although I had no soul with which to love, and I killed for them although my lust for blood had died with my demon. And I watched them grow old and wither away. Don't tell me I don't understand loss! I have lost everything, including myself, and yet I find life worth living!"

She gaped at him, his outburst leaving her speechless as her mind reeled with what he had said. "I," she started, not knowing what to say. She never got a chance to figure it out.

"Who is this, Buffy?" Giles asked coldly. He stood in the doorway with a crossbow poised and aimed directly at the elder's chest.

The world was spinning out of control. From a distance she heard the clatter of wood on wood as her stake dropped to the floor from her suddenly numb fingers. She gripped the edge of a table tightly before her legs could give out entirely. How much had Giles heard? Her mind screamed over the frantic beating of her heart, how much did he know?

"Who is he?" Giles repeated, never taking his eyes off the elder, never easing his grip on his weapon.

Her mind reeled, there were so many answers to that question, so much destruction lying hidden within those answers. "A friend," she panted, forcing the words through her lips. She was willingly condemning herself, she realized, willingly allying herself with this creature who had lied to her. Gerrico's penetrating blue eyes softened slightly in response, but he said nothing.

"I could hear you through the door, Buffy," the Watcher's voice was hard and clipped, but his eyes wouldn't stray from the elder's face, not even to look at his charge. "I could hear you talking about betrayal and revenge," the Watcher's face flushed with his efforts to control his raging emotions, "who is he, Buffy?" He asked with inhuman calm.

Oh God, she thought as her mind frantically analyzed and rejected her options, this isn't happening. In her desperation she turned to Gerrico, her eyes pleading for the elder's help. The regal man nodded once in answer and Buffy closed her eyes, unable to face the situation head on.

"I am a Watcher," Gerrico calmly said. Buffy's eyes snapped open. No, no, no! She tried to communicate to the elder, don't tell him everything! It'll tear him apart, tear me apart. But the elder had already turned his attention towards the armed Watcher, his eyes a mystery.

"You're a demon," Giles spat contemptuously. "Do you deny that?"

A grim smile stretched across the sensual lips, "Am, was, truth is subject to the time in which it's being told." Giles's eyes narrowed and he re-aimed his crossbow directly at the elder's chest with deadly intent. He was a Watcher, a British scholar, he would not allow himself to be drowned in senseless philosophical discussions. That's what all those long-distance phone calls home were for. Gerrico raised his arms slowly in supplication, "I was a demon," he admitted, "what I am now is," he paused, gauging the Watcher's reaction, "something entirely different. I am, however, a Watcher."

"How is that possible?" The question was mingled with doubt and demand.

"It's true, Giles," Buffy said quietly. Now that the truth was almost out there was no point in obscuring it save to further her own means. She owed him more than that.

"True?" The librarian she had come to love as a father echoed her hollowly.

She nodded grimly. Her knuckles were a bright white as she gripped the edge of a table for sheer physical support. Her body was trembling, her nerves were spiraling out of control and her heart was dust in her chest, but she owed this man some answers and he would get them even if it killed her. "He was the first Watcher," she said flatly. There was no doubt in her mind that this part of Gerrico's story was indeed true, it was too farfetched not to be. "He founded the Council all those years ago. Him and a few more like him, over a millennia ago," the information spilled from her lips in a gush of knowledge.

"Demon?" Giles's eyes were frantically denying, even as his hands already acknowledged the truth, already shifting his weapon away from the unarmed elder. "Founded the Council?" His eyes turned to stare at his pale charge, "a demon Watcher?" The hysteria hovering on the edges of his voice was painfully obvious.

Buffy forcibly blinked back her tears, the man she had come to love as a father was walking on an emotional tightrope, and he desperately needed her support. "He wasn't a demon at the time, not exactly," she refused to look at Gerrico, search for his approval. He'd never told her what he was, maybe he didn't even know himself. Either way it was irrelevant to the end result, the Watcher's Council had NOT been founded by demons. Giles had to know that. "They did it for a Slayer, they helped her. Giles, listen to me!" She begged.

But he was too far-gone in his own thoughts to listen, too deep into the repercussions on his own life to hear her. "A farce," he whispered. The despair in his voice wracking more pain within her than she ever thought possible. "Everything I was led to believe in, everything my father demanded of me, they were all lies. I've devoted my life to a farce!"

"No, Giles," she cried, begging he would hear her, "you've devoted your life to me!"

He did hear her, his eyes hardened as they turned to rest on her face, "and you knew!" He hissed, the turmoil raging within him allowing for nothing less. "You knew and you lied to me!" He shook his head, a feeble attempt to shake himself free of her, free of the emotional hold she had over him. He turned away from her, unable to look at her shimmering eyes a moment longer, unable to look at her tear-stained face. He turned towards the only escape he knew, and as his hand gripped at the cold metal of the door-handle for dear life, he understood full well that he wasn't escaping her. He was escaping himself. Nearly laughing at himself for so astute an observation he nevertheless yanked the door open.

"Giles!" She cried out, tears welling in her eyes. I can't loose him too! "Please don't leave me!"

Her cry tugged at his heart, at their bond, at all they meant to each other. Helplessly he froze at the door. For a moment she thought he would relent, he would come back to her, to care for her as he always did. But his shoulders tensed and she realized the hurt was just too great this time, the betrayal ran too deep. "You have a Watcher," his voice was cold, brutal in the pain it meant to inflict. But she knew him, knew the underlying agony he was causing himself by lashing out at her, "you don't need me anymore."

"Please, Giles, I can't do this without you!" She wailed, but he walked out of the room as though she hadn't said anything at all. For a moment all she could do was gasp helplessly, broken sobs spilling from her lips beyond her control. She closed her eyes, willingly surrendering herself to a darkness that refused to take her. In the end her chest ached and her shoulders drooped with the sense of overpowering responsibility. The man who had been more of a father to her then her real one had ever been despised her, but this wasn't over, not by a long shot. Feeling ten years older the tiny Slayer forced her eyes open and bravely walked to the door, purposefully ignoring the former demon still in the room.

"I'm sorry." Gerrico's voice, as deceptively compassionate as she remembered, stayed her, but only for a moment.

"Don't be," she told him, not even bothering to look back, "you're stuck here just like the rest of us." She remembered something as she turned to leave, something he had told her not so long ago, "nothing is truly immortal," she reminded him chillingly, "just try to keep that in mind."

* * *
Chapter Fifteen
Hawaii, Xander Harris fantasized, lying on my stomach with the warm sun baking me gently as twin dark-skinned native girls rub oil into my back.

Nope, too easy.

Hawaii, he thought, still lying in the sun as a pasty faced Principle Snyder rubs oil into my back.

Still not there yet.

He shuddered a moment with disgust before forming the next mental image. A Hawaiian prison with Principle Snyder as a cellmate. That was better, now he was getting somewhere. He concentrated briefly before adding the next mental twist. And having a TV that only featured the show 'People So Horrible Even Jerry Springer Couldn't Stand Them'. He sighed unhappily as he contemplated throwing in chest hair pulling pro wrestlers into the mix.

"Xander Harris, are you listening to me?"

Nope, Xander thought as he glanced sheepishly at the face of the woman who'd been berating him for the past half-hour, can't think of anywhere I wouldn't rather be right now. "Yes, Mrs. Summers," he replied obediently.

She gave him a doubtful look, "then do you understand why I couldn't possibly go along with this ridiculous idea of yours?"

He momentarily contemplated heaving the blame unto Giles's more than capable shoulders, then thought better of it. The English man had enough on his mind with the curse to get sidetracked by a woman who had her heart set on dying with everybody else. "Yes, Mrs. Summers," he murmured, refusing to look her in the eye.

"Good," she stated firmly, "then I'll just go find my daughter and let her in on the news."

Xander swallowed hard as Joyce Summers turned to leave, he rocked agitatedly on the balls of his feet as an internal battle waged within him. Aww hell, he finally concluded, I'm gonna die anyway. What difference will a few more hours make? "Don't you think you're being a bit selfish?" He blurted, suddenly wishing he was ten years old again with the God given right to run away after ringing emotional door bells. "Um, Mrs. Summers," he hastily added. There was no need to be impolite.

She turned on him with excruciating slowness, each motion pulling on a different nerve cell, till finally he found himself on the receiving end of a glare he'd seen countless times before. Only it was usually directed at demons and it was often the last thing they were likely to see. Having the older, more practiced version focused on him was a disturbingly humbling experience. Also a very frightening one. "Excuse me?" She said coolly.

He swallowed hard again as he glanced at the angry woman looming over him. She wasn't really a big woman, only slightly taller than her deceivingly diminutive daughter, but the flashing anger in her steely gray eyes made her look like a pillar of strength. And pain. "Um," he said hesitantly. That was no good. He tried again, "er." Usually by this point he could think of something quirky to say and run away. Unfortunately, nothing quirky was coming to mind. Throwing caution to the wind he opted for honesty, "I just thought that you'd put the children first," there, that didn't sound as pitifully weak as he feared. Nope, that wasn't pitiful at all.

"Put the children..." the furious woman echoed, "Xander, they have parents!"

He stared at her with honest surprise. Didn't she realize what was about to happen? No one could possibly be that oblivious. "Their parents are going with us," he reminded her, "so are their older brothers and sisters, friends, and just about anyone who can mumble this curse thing right. When this thing's over they're going to be left all alone."

Joyce blanched, but there was no shock in her reaction, she'd realized this already, come to terms with it. "I meant that one of their parents should be left to care for them. I know we can't spare them all."

He sighed miserably, why was he always stuck with the dirty jobs? Mentally he caught up with his earlier caution, which was busily blowing in the wind, held on to it as hard as he could and tore it to shreds. No need for that useless excuse of a life preserving skill, was there? He took a deep breath, "then go ahead and pick which one of them gets to live while the rest of them die, cause I sure as hell am not going to do it!" He blurted, watching as the older woman's feature's twisted into surprise. Surprise was good, he thought, surprise wasn't anger. As long as he stayed away from anger he was fine. "And what about Buffy?" He demanded, "don't you think you owe her this?" A glance at the older woman's face instantly revealed he'd overstepped his boundaries as dangerous rage replaced bewildered surprise.

"Owe Buffy?" She echoed evenly. Yep, he'd definitely gone too far. "What do I owe Buffy?"

But there was no caution to lean back on. There was fear and blind panic, but no caution. Life was so much easier this way. "Your life, for starters." He retorted just as evenly, "she went out of her way to make sure that not only were you not hurt by what she was, but that you wouldn't find out. She didn't want you to worry because she loves you more than anything. The thought of you dying by her side was tearing her up inside, she needs you to go on living! She'll die young, she's known that for a very long time, she's learned to accept it, but she'll never be able to accept you dying with her. You owe her to let her die in peace, you owe her for all of the times she's protected you and put her own life on the line for your peace of mind." His chest heaved painfully for breath, but he was on a roll. "After this is over do what you want," he pushed on, looking at the pale woman standing shaken before him, "but at least give her this."

Joyce swallowed hard at a loss for words. She blinked, trying to process everything he'd thrown in her face. Xander sighed sympathetically, the Hellmouth was hard on the nerves. Basically he'd put Buffy's mother in a no win situation, and it was going to be impossible for her whether she chose to live or die, "just think about it," he said gently. Turning away he left the startled woman to her thoughts.

How would Joyce Summers survive in a world without her daughter? Xander pondered miserably as he roamed the school halls aimlessly. He awkwardly stepped over a small family napping on blankets in the middle of the hallway. In a sense he was taking the easy way out, he wouldn't have to exist in a world without his friends, his family. What was being done to Joyce was more of a curse than a gift. Nevertheless she would survive, he was confident in that. Buffy was a Slayer, the chosen one, and her physical abilities were those of a Slayer, but her strength of character, her firm resolve and her will to survive were her mother's. Joyce was a strong woman and she'd go on, she had to.

Xander headed towards the library, instinctively needing to be with his friends, needing their comfort, needing their food. Useless snack machines mocked him as he walked down the hall and not the first time that night he appreciated the brutal irony of his high school being the sole survivor of a building-destroying earthquake. If it were only a pizza place, he sighed, he'd find something constructive to do with all that cheese even without electricity.

"Where's Buffy?" He asked his library dwelling friends.

Cordelia pulled her gaze away from the book she'd been reading. She looked tired, he suddenly noticed, a kind of weariness that made her seem so much older than she actually was. "Don't know, don't care," she replied shortly.

"Giles went looking for her about fifteen minutes ago," Willow said haggardly without even bothering to glare at the May Queen. The bone weariness affected them all.

"Which brings us to the next question," he said as the small Slayer chose that exact moment to burst into the library. That girl had excellent timing, he thought, "where's Giles?"

"Gone," Buffy replied shortly. Her voice was calm, but the word still struck a chill in Xander's heart.

"Gone in a sense that he's out looking for pizza and will be back any second now," he tried, cheerfulness he didn't really feel force fed into his voice. He desperately hoped no one noticed the cold fear. "Or as in knocked over the head again and will be back among the conscious after this short commercial break."

No one laughed.

Buffy shook her head, "gone as in discovered something he couldn't handle and took off."

They stared at her. The simplicity of her words waging war against the image of the man they all knew.

"Giles?" Willow murmured with disbelief.

Xander was already one step ahead, "something worse than the fact that we're all going to die in a painful, fiery kind of way? Cause that didn't make him bail."

Buffy's head drooped, her shoulders sagged as her quiet resolve melted with their questions. "H-he," she stuttered, suddenly fearing their reactions. Wordlessly Willow walked up to her and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. "The Watchers' Council wasn't founded by humans," she blurted. "One of the founders came to see me just now. Giles found out."

"When you say not human," Cordelia started slowly, her suddenly pallid face accentuating the dark circles under her eyes, "you're not talking about demons, are you?" The brunette's voice was childishly hopeful.

Buffy's gaze dropped to the floor, her quiet acknowledgment voicing what she couldn't put into words. Her eyes locked onto her feet, unable to meet their gazes, unable to face their blame.

"Oh man," Xander said. He was fairly sure he was voicing the general sentiment.

There is a kind of silence that people experience when they realize they're on their own. The kind of silence where people discover the weight of the world, the responsibility for lives other than theirs lies squarely on their shoulders. The kind of silence where people find inner strength they never knew existed, a deep resolve to stand up and fight for those they loved and for themselves.

This wasn't it.

"I don't think I can do this," Willow murmured, her voice sounding tiny and frightened in the gloomy candlelit room.

Buffy quickly moved to her friend's side, "it'll be all right, Will," she assured the trembling redhead.

"No, it won't," Cordelia said flatly.

"Why'd he come to see you?" Oz asked quietly.

Buffy's gaze fell to the floor again, her eyes focusing on the hungry crack in the marble where the Hellmouth had once opened. With a shudder she forced herself to look her friends in the eyes, "he's met me before. He wanted to tell me to stop what we were doing."

Willow's head twisted sharply to stare at her friend in disbelief, "that's why you lied to Angel!" Her eyes widened giving her the appearance of a pale, frightened child, "you believed a demon?" She choked.

"What the hell is going on?" Xander demanded, his voice rising uncontrollably.

Buffy shook her head wildly, her eyes pleading for understanding, "what he said made sense, Will," harsh tears suffocated her as she struggled to explain. "Angel was falling apart and Giles didn't have any answers. Gerrico knew everything, he had a solution to everything!"

"Who the hell is Gerrico?" Xander's voice was hoarse with repressed tension. He could feel it building inside him, flooding his muscles, balling his fists. For the first time in his young and often violent life he ached to beat something into a bloody pulp.

"And all I had to do was lie to him," Buffy whispered, tears flowing freely down her face. "If I lied to him everything would be all right."

Xander's patience broke, in three quick strides he was in the small Slayer's face. The young man, who had once been a soldier, still had the presence of mind to avoid grabbing the tiny blonde's deceptively slender shoulders as he yelled to her face. "What the hell did you do?"

"You know," Spike drawled from the doorway, "for a group of people who'd die for each other you yell an awfully bloody lot." Five heads whipped sharply to the sound of his voice. He smirked at their reactions, as he easily strolled into the room, his fingers pulling at a dented cigarette almost unconsciously.

"No smoking in the library," Willow recited weakly.

The pale vampire glanced at the timid hacker with surprise then laughed heartily, "right you are, Red," he agreed even as he lit the crumbling cigarette.

Buffy wiped her face hastily, crying in front of her friends was one thing, but falling apart in front of the annoying demon was quite another. "Weren't you supposed to be out of Sunnydale by now?" She asked harshly.

Spike took a luxurious puff on his smoke, looking her over in the process, "earthquakes are not your look, pet," he murmured, noting her disheveled appearance.

She instinctively brought a trembling hand to her head, wincing at the rough feel of her dust caked hair. "I'll try to have a makeup kit ready for the next natural disaster," she retorted hotly, angered by the wicked grin on the vampire's pale face. "What are you doing here, Spike?"

The blond vampire rolled his eyes mockingly, "if I only had a nickel," he sighed. He negligently tossed his half-finished smoke to the floor, narrowly missing a stack of books in the process. "Since none of the cars would start and I'm not really keen on trying out that new sun block nine out of ten dermatologists recommend, I'm stuck here just like the rest of you wankers," he replied. He strode further into the room, fully aware of the wild shadows the candlelight drew across his sharp features. "I figure since I'm in happy Sunny Hell anyway, I might as well find out how I can stay alive. So," he drawled, "what have you come up with?"

They stared at him.

Spike's amused features crumbled into deep disgust, "you wankers got nothing!" He accused.

"Let's give it up for the bleached blond blood-sucker," Xander murmured hoarsely. "You wanna tell him what he's won, Cordy?"

"A free one way ticket to hell," the brunette replied brusquely, "good thing you remembered to ask Angel what that was like," she congratulated the seething vampire, "no nasty surprises that way."

"So you're going to curl up and die like the sniveling little brats that you are?" Spike demanded.

"I was thinking more along the lines of standing up and dying like the sniveling little brat that I am, but yeah, basically that's more or less the plan now," Xander replied, his eyes involuntarily searching the Slayer's face for a reaction.

Buffy's eyes narrowed, "that is not the plan, Xander," she retorted vehemently. "Nothing's changed, we go on with what we talked about." Something suddenly occurred to her. If all the buildings save this one were destroyed, then, "where's Dru?" She demanded.

The blond vampire shrugged, "she's around here somewhere. Don't worry, Slayer," he added hastily as she made a move for the doors, "I brought my minions along, the ones that weren't crushed under the factory. She'll be fine."

The Slayer visibly blanched, "you brought vampires into this building?" She demanded even as she headed towards the doors at a quick run.

Spike shrugged as the others turned to follow her through the swinging doors, "I told them not to eat anybody," he cried after them. "It's like a bleeding buffet out there," he told the empty room, "who'll notice if they take a nip here and there?" With a sigh he turned to follow.

"It's pronounced oh, not ah," Harmony said to the group of vampires leering at her neck, "now you try it."

"Um, Harmony," Cordelia said as gently as she could. She wound her way towards her one time friend, carefully avoiding physical contact with any of the burly vampires crowded around the blonde girl, "what're you doing?"

"I'm taking initiative," the cheerleader replied smugly, "these new people came along, and I'm teaching them the curse." She looked worriedly up at Willow who was standing as far away from the circle of vampires as she possibly could without actually running away, "it is oh, not ah, right Willow?"

"Ah-ha," the redhead nodded weakly.

The smug smile returned to Harmony's lips, "I'm not a sheep," she said proudly.

Again with the sheep, Buffy thought bewilderedly. She made a mental note to ask Cordelia about that someday.

Spike looked sharply at the Slayer, "the curse?" He demanded, "I see you've decided to go with the suicide plan, you silly chit."

"Also known as the only plan," Xander helpfully added.

The blond vampire shook his head, "I thought your Watcher had more sense than that," he looked around the hallway, "where is the stuffy Brit, anyway?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes, "that's the question of the hour," she frowned in thought, "actually the question of the past fifteen minutes. There've been a lot of questions the past hour."

Buffy clenched her fists in an effort to remain calm, "you," she glared at the pale vampire, "get your minions into a classroom, an empty classroom," she emphasized, "and keep them there. Tell them that if any of them so much as set a fang outside the door they're all dust." A stake flipped into her hand with a negligent flick of the wrist. "That goes double for Dru," she added, glaring at the blank-eyed dark woman. "You," she motioned towards her friends, "we're going back to the library and research as much as we can." She took a deep stabilizing breath as they stared at her with surprise, "I think it's time I told you everything," she admitted. She glanced at the pale vampire she'd often wanted to strangle, "you too," she finally said.

"So," Xander drawled as Spike finally strolled into the library, "are your minions all tucked in nice and tight?"

The pale vampire's expression soured, "we're not completely out of control with blood lust, you know," he said bitterly. "We don't all go around saying 'I vant to suck your vlud,'" he mimicked a Romanian accent as best he could.

"Bad idea when you're around someone named Vlud," Oz murmured softly to Willow.

Spike ignored him, "you think we're all salivating for your throats!" He actually managed to sound offended, "well let me tell you..."

"You had to stake one of them to prove your point, didn't you?" Buffy asked dryly, cutting him off mid tirade.

"He wasn't that important," Spike replied blandly.

"Now do you think it's time you told us everything?" Cordelia asked impatiently.

Buffy nodded awkwardly. While waiting for the vampire no one had said a word to her or so much as glanced her way. In fact her friends devoted so much effort to sitting around, pretending to read and just generally mind their own business while studiously avoiding looking at her, she was almost afraid they'd hurt themselves. Now that she was once again the focus of their attention she realized being ignored was seriously underrated. There was nothing wrong with a little non-attention. She gulped as she glanced up at their expectant faces, really there wasn't.

"Buffy," Willow encouraged softly.

So the small Slayer inhaled deeply, quenched her fears as best she could and told them. She told them of how Spike had taken her to see the Elders after the blood rite, how they'd told her who they were and what they'd demanded of her. Her eyes were dark and defiant as she described her refusal, daring them, any one of them, to judge her. No one did.

She went on telling them of Angel's mercurial mood swings, skimming over most details of their encounter in the mansion and focusing on her realization. "His soul was there," she told them, "but so was his demon." The curse, however, was not. She ignored the questions in their eyes and lifted her chin surely, they would just have to trust her in this. She told them of her second encounter with the Elder named Gerrico, of what he'd told her, of how he convinced her. She told them this emotionlessly, letting them draw whatever conclusions they could, she'd already made her decision.

She'd told them how she'd done what she'd promised, how she lied to her lover. Her eyes grew distant, unable to face the sympathy or pity she may encounter in the faces of these people whom she considered friends. She explain how she found out she'd been lied to, her words laced with the anger and confusion she still felt. Had she truly been lied to?

And finally of her last encounter with Gerrico, how her world had fallen apart when Giles found out the truth. Her words were choked as she spoke, the wound too fresh, still unhealed, to ignore.

When she finished talking, her chest heaving slightly for air, she found that she still couldn't face them. Her eyes locked to the floor, desperately feeling the weight of her words resting on her shoulders, not made lighter by the slightest by the truth. Doubt began to slither its way into Buffy's heart. Should she have told them? Could they handle the truth? She felt cold sweat ooze down her back, her breath caught in her throat as the silence remained unbroken, her eyes glaring at the marble floor as her body began to tremble. And what if they'd leave like Giles did?

Wordlessly Willow walked up and embraced her shaking friend and the Slayer exhaled noisily with relief because she knew then that they were all in this together.

They sat together for a while, enjoying the easy companionship that they hadn't experienced for so long. This was the truth, they all realized, but they were all in this together.

"I get why someone would describe Angel as a plague," Xander said, deliberately ignoring the dirty look the Slayer threw his way. "But what's with the metaphors? Why couldn't he just come out with the truth?"

"Well duh," Cordelia supplied, "he was probably nervous about how little Miss Jumps to Conclusions would react." She gave the sullen Slayer a penetrating look, "I wonder why."

"So, do you believe him?" Buffy asked quietly.

Cordelia shrugged indifferently, "doesn't matter. Either way I wouldn't bet my life on a curseless Angel's love for you. Last time we did that I had to get my car Angel proofed." She shuddered at the memory, "and that wasn't the worst of it," she paused as she caught Xander's warning look, "well, we all know what happened," she finished lamely.

Yeah, Buffy thought, people died, fish got gutted. We all know what happened.

"Curseless?" Xander asked, attempting to lighten the mood, "is that even a word?"

"Since when are you Mister Grammar," the pretty brunette retorted hotly.

"So it's back to square one, then," Oz said quietly, more to head off any upcoming arguments then to really make a point, Buffy suspected.

"If square one is synchronized cursing," Xander murmured, "then I'd say we're definitely in the zip code."

"Then it's time to hit the books again," Buffy said, she didn't even realize how much she'd missed their banter till now, "see if we can find a less deadly way to win this thing." They all grumbled, but rose from their seats and did as they were told. "What's your problem?" She asked Spike. The blond vampire had been unnaturally quiet since she told them all the truth.

"They weren't demons," He replied as if that explained everything. "All that tradition, all that bloody sense of propriety," he went on at her blank look. Still she stared at him dumbly, "I bowed to the bloody wankers," he grated through clenched teeth, "and they weren't even demons." She stared at him for a moment and then began to laugh weakly. He glared at her as threateningly as he could, but that only elicited stronger peels of laughter. "Knew she wouldn't get it," he grumbled as he stalked off towards the ravaged stacks, "bloody wankers."

Go to Part 16