Title: We Can Run Away Now They're All Dead and Gone.

Author: Aurey09

Part One: Things Born of Fire.

Chapter: 2/10

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Buffy belongs to Joss Whedon, not me.

Xander got onto the bus, sharing a war buddyish look with Dawn, before he sat beside her. Dawn had saved his life today, and kicked some major uber-ass doing it. She guessed those lessons with Buffy, over the summer, had helped after all. I have the power now, a little bit.

Giles was trying to get everyone to settle down. He told them that they were going to drive to a nearby hospital in Ventura.

"Shouldn't someone go get Buffy?" Dawn asked.

"She's on her way." Willow assured her, as she took an empty seat.

Dawn couldn't help feeling out of it, everyone was dodging the fact that the bus was so much more roomy than it had been earlier on that morning. She wanted to talk about them, she didn't know why, maybe for it to sink in - or maybe to stop it from sinking in; she wasn't sure.

Andrew was sat across from her; he was quiet, which coming from him was disconcerting. Faith was sitting close by Wood, she was keeping him awake by talking to him, Vi was being the gauze-holding-to-wound part to the team.

Buffy got onto the bus, and Giles smiled at her with fatherly affection. She figured saving the world made him proud of her, in the same way the rare good grade used to her mom.

Buffy flopped down onto a musty, bus-seat next to Willow.

Buffy knew that she'd failed to do what Willow had done, say goodbye to all the died of Sunnydale - Joyce, Tara, Anya…Spike. Buffy wondered what it meant that they didn't have graves.

Giles started the bus up, Buffy hoped that this trip would go better than her last one out of town. She consoled herself to the fact that at least there wouldn't be any Renaissance fair rejects chasing them down on horseback, and it probably wouldn't end with her being catatonic or Dawn being kidnapped by a god.

Buffy turned her head and looked out the back window, it was too sunny for her to see much of anything; she easily lost sight of the smouldering crater.

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Kaci Brooks was full, she'd just railroaded her way through a blueberry muffin, it helped cover-up the swig of vodka she had in the girls bathroom. She'd feigned cramps to get out of gym, and slipped away when the teacher, the one with the jangly whistles and the not nearly enough supported breasts, wasn't looking.

Kaci had moved to Ventura a few months ago, it wasn't far from LA - nothing was too far from her mother who still lived there. It was the same sunny California, same old weather, décor and people; every pore of the town screamed its locale.

As baking as the sun was, a light breeze was compensating; a day that shouldn't be wasted on high school. She thought it would be cool to live in the time of the Chumash, when the earth was sacred and she didn't have to worship the almighty credit card, she wanted to be free of all this crap. She wished there were other ways to pass from immaturity to adulthood, besides having to get good grades so she could go to college and probably drop out, landing a semi-permanent position in the customer-service industry; the entrapment had already begun.

It was second period, she felt shame at being the first to be there, not that she was any better at driver's ed, than any other class. She hoped it wasn't her turn behind the wheel. Poor, mock pedestrian cones tended to get squashed in her wheevy path.

The car park was covered with miss mismatched signs and scored lines. Mr. Watson, middle-aged and balding, stood waiting by the car for his students to show up.

Mr. Watson tapped his pen heavy handed on his clipboard, his impatience was just as good as a declaration of war to Kaci who was in no hurry. Her lack of speed could be attributed to her heels but rebellion was what she going for. He looked away first, shuffled through his notes.

Kaci hopped on a wall nearby, swinging her legs back and forth, smiling to herself, before applying a new coat of lip gloss. Imala, her best friend, was making her away over marching and flushed because of her apparent lateness.

Kaci greeted Imala. "I hate this class," Kaci pouted. "It's just another thing I'm destined to fail, along with gym."

"Driving's less about co-ordination," Imala said. "And more about the sitting on one's butt."

"And swearing and gesticulating when another motorist cuts you off."

"And big cup holders, can't forget those."

It was an on going joke between the two them that Kaci had incentive to learn to drive, so then she could leave. Kaci would always reply that she had a bus pass, if all else failed.

Ali another student approached, at a slow stride. He winked at Kaci, who rolled her eyes. Imala started moving and Kaci reluctantly followed.

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The students buckled their belts, some needing more prompting than others. Imala got behind the wheel, she was confident there. She had done all the checks she needed to do before Mr. Watson had even uttered for her to straighten the mirror or to put the car in drive.

"Take your time, moving round the cones." Mr. Watson's voice droned.

Ali was complaining it was supposed to be his turn today. Kaci told him otherwise, it was clear she had a crush on him but Imala knew not to argue the fact.

"She drives like my grandmother." Ali hooted, he wasn't exactly sharp.

Imala decided to pick up the pace, she knew she was too cautious, it's what people were always telling her, even Kaci who was defending her now.

She put her foot down on the accelerator with practised ease. The car careened out the parking lot, she only put the slightest of force behind it.

"Brake!" Mr. Watson screamed, they all screamed. The car hurtled through the chain link fence, coming to a stop on the main road.

"Is everyone okay?" Mr. Watson crooked, easing the taut seat belt from around his neck. He probably had whip-lash, not the best way to impress a driving instructor. She unclasped her hands from the steering wheel. She looked down puzzled, her fingers had made indentations on the wheel.

Kaci let out a sigh of relief - that was when the truck hit them.

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Metal groaned as it contracted with the cooling air. A girl's body was laid disjointed under a heap of rubble, that had once been a wall from Sunnydale High School. She'd known the power of the Slayer shortly before she'd been crushed.

Though, her blood had long done pumping through her veins, a trail of it inched away from her. It travelled through the wreckage, dust and flames and joined that of others like her. A black mist clung above the gore, before all threads of it seeped into the charred earth below.

It had a crude conscious, that churned with gaining self-awareness as more demonic energy joined it. It couldn't remember its origins, it knew it wasn't part of the older race of demons but that they feared it, for it had killed many of them. All its memories were bound in the souls of the Slayers. It had been there when the first Slayer walked. It had meant to have reincarnated into another girl by now but there wasn't a single girl that was left dormant for it to join with.

There was now girls that shouldn't be Slayers - the ill, old and infantile. Their numbers were too great. It knew its purpose, to ilk out the weak from the strong.

It needed to take form so that it could extinguish life. Flames licked at its misty form. It fashioned itself a shell of a demon, one that had roamed this land. Its hide was thick and molten, crude in a design but perfect for its use.

It took its first step on its legs, it felt steady, it knew it wouldn't fail. This body wouldn't last but it would form a new one when it needed to.

The power it bestowed long ago had become diluted, it couldn't stay that way. Each girl it took would only make it stronger, its spirit would become whole. A change had come to this reality, power had sifted and things could not remain as they were.

Its dark eyes could see the path they'd taken, it could smell them out with its bone like muzzle. Blood it found with its new sense was something it could appreciate, it wanted to spill more of it.

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A/N: Feedback is very welcome, if you have constructive criticism that is fine too.