Buffy Summers shivered as the cold breeze played with the collar of her soft pink blouse. The moon was full and bright, shining down upon the Sunnydale cemetery, upon the newly filled grave of Willow Rosenberg. Holding her stake in one hand, and wiping away silent tears with the other, Buffy sat in front of the gravestone.

That morning Buffy walked into the college dorm room she shared with her friend, and found her lying on her bed. She was so still, lying on her back. Buffy didn't have to look to know she would find the marks on her neck. Her eyes were open, staring at her, lifeless. Buffy let her gaze fall to her left hand. It held a single scarlet rose. Below next to it, on the small night table, was a note. The page was etched with a single word.

Tonight. The word on the note. Buffy didn't know what to do about it, but didn't care. She had to wait for Willow to wake up. She looked at the tombstone. Willow Rosenburg, Beloved Friend. Newly carved in the cold black rock. How could she let this happen? The first person she had called had been Xander. Normally it would have been Giles, but this wasn't a vamp issue, it was a personal deal.

Her thoughts were broken by the sudden sound of splintering wood. No. Not now. The dark earth heaved, and Willow's bright, sunny yellow-enamel covered nails emerged, clawing at the dirt. She pushed herself up, her eyes falling on Buffy, and her gaze never left her. As Willow stood, in full vamp mode, Buffy rose to meet her gaze. She rolled her stake in her hands, looking for motivation to stake her best friend. Willow leaped forward in attack. Buffy gave a sharp front kick to Willow's side in defense. Was this motivation enough? Willow fell to the ground and swept her foot under Buffy's legs almost faster than a mortal's eyes could follow. Buffy fell on her back, momentarily stunned from the sudden impact. She did a kip-up, and was on her feet once again. Willow stood before her, watching, waiting. Buffy spun her stake around, it's pointy end aimed at Willow. She tensed, prepared to drive the stake into Willow. She let her gaze drift to her wide, yellow eyes. She froze, trying to see her friends' likeness behind them. Willow tilted her head, and bolted. Jumping over gravestones, she disappeared into the night.

The door to Giles' apartment opened before she could try the doorknob. Xander stood there, his eyes red, his face wet. He hugged her.

"I'm so sorry you had to do that Buffy." He said, his voice cracking, ready to cry some more. Buffy held him tighter, with worry in her eyes. "I am too."

The next night was colder than the first, with a shield of clouds hiding the stars. She strolled the cemetery, noting the fact that slayers never had a day off for anything. She hears a twig snap behind her. She felt him.
"You let her go."
"I couldn't kill her."
"Why did you come back?" She asked, with her back still to him.
"For you."
His hand touched her shoulder, and she flinched at the cold. She sensed it. She knew. She turned around.
"Angel." At the sight of his face, she could have cried, or ran. His yellow eyes burned into hers. His grip tightened. They were shadowed by the large ridge on his forehead.
"She cast that spell. She made me feel it all again. She died."
"You..."
"Me. I killed her. Easy. She maybe a witch, but she's no Romani Gypsy. They have power I can't begin to describe. You could say that your friends' spell was... temporary."
Angel, Willow. God, how could I let this happen? She didn't resist as Angelus Pulled her head to his shoulder and bit her. She felt his fangs pierce her neck, she closed her eyes. She felt herself weaken, and her soul disappear through where she was joined with Angelus. He took a shard of glass from his pocket, and sliced his palm. He pushed her head against it, letting his poisoned blood flow into her mouth.
Buffy Summer's last sight as she hit the ground was Angelus' face falling back into Angel's, the man she once loved.

TO BE CONTINUED