Disclaimer: None of it's mine. It all belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy.
Author's Note: I've been so pleased with the reactions to the story so far, particularly reading your thoughts on Angel's role. Feel free to leave comments and reviews, they are greatly appreciated. Special note: Yes, in this chapter, I am using dialogue from Dead Things by Steven S. DeKnight (also, not mine). Credit where credit is due.
"I love you."
Buffy said it with conviction, clenching her jaw. It was a sweet release to say those words after keeping them inside her heart for so long. Her timing could not have been worse. This was not how she had imagined this moment playing out in her head. Timing be damned, she thought. He deserved the truth.
His smile was soft, forgiving, as his fingers flexed in hers.
"No you don't."
Buffy squeezed his hand gently, the flame between them flaring and cutting off his next words. She flinched at the sudden burning pain and took a step, dropping her hand to extinguish the fire. They stood close, almost touching. Buffy could feel the heat radiating from his body and her heart fluttered, she felt helpless. They didn't have much time.
"You think I haven't tried not to?" she asked jokingly and smiled through her tears.
"Try harder," Spike replied, his face contorting with pain as the light from within him brightened. His nostrils flared as he breathed uselessly through agony. Buffy stumbled slightly as the earth beneath her quaked, but steadied herself and stared at him, imploring.
"I am not leaving you."
Spike wasn't having it, "Face facts, pet. I'm not getting out of this one in any less than a billion tiny pieces."
"There has to be a way," she whispered, strained and desperate.
Buffy reached out tentatively. Sparks flew where her fingers met the fabric of his shirt, but did not ignite. She flattened her palm against him and could feel the slow burn rising within. Slowly, she trailed her hand up until it clutched the amulet.
Spike's eyes widened as she lifted it over his head. Buffy stared at the necklace in her hand for a moment, dormant and cooling. She gave it a final glance before throwing it into the rubble of the collapsing Hellmouth. The glow subsided from Spike's body, his soul resting within him, no longer causing pain. Spike gasped at the sudden relief and Buffy grasped his hand.
"We've got to get out of here," she said.
Spike stared at her in wonder. "Lead the way."
Buffy didn't need to be told twice. She ran, pulling him along to the stairs where the others had escaped, scythe held tightly in her other fist. The stairs were beginning to crumble, collapsing with the rest of Sunnydale into a crater. They skipped them two at a time, narrowly avoiding being swallowed into the abyss. A loose rock above them fell. Buffy jerked Spike against the wall, flattening her body against him. It barely missed them.
"Thanks for that," he breathed in relief. "You all right?"
Buffy nodded. "Come on."
They ran through the decimated basement, dead bodies littered the floor and made Buffy's stomach roil. She knew their names, she recognized their faces, and was having the hardest time not reaching down to shut their wide, glassy eyes. The feeling of Spike squeezing her hand softly brought her back to the present situation. There was no time to waste, they had to get out or they would be killed.
"The bus," Buffy said when they reached hall upstairs, dodging the dappled sunlight in the abandoned high school.
The yellow monstrosity could be seen through a hole in the wall, the engine already started. She looked to the sunlight outside then back to Spike again and demanded, "Take off your coat."
He did as she said and held it over his head like the burning blankets of years past. The bus shifted into drive as the ground cracked beneath it. Then there was nothing to do but run, bounding piles of rubble, bodies, and collapsing walls. Buffy tried to ignore the smoke rising off the vampire beside her and ran faster. We're going to make it, she thought, an internal mantra giving her hope.
"Hurry, Buffy!" Dawn screamed from the back seat. She opened the emergency door and they threw themselves inside, just as the bus gained momentum, and landed in a heap.
"Bloody hell!" Spike shouted as he started to smolder. Buffy pulled the leather duster over his head, shielding the rest of him with her body.
"Faster!" she shouted to Robin.
He revved the engine and they were off, the ground beneath them crumbling. Buffy ushered Spike into a shadowed seat in the corner, momentarily safe from the sun.
"Are you all right?" she asked, cradling his face in her hands and inspecting him for burns.
He held the coat aloft, watching for errant rays of sunlight.
"I'll be fine," he answered. "Just a little singed, but no worse for wear."
Buffy leaned in and kissed him, surprised to find she was crying and tasting her own tears.
"Shh, it's all right, love," Spike murmured, dropping the coat to pull her closer.
"I thought I lost you," she whispered against his lips.
"Course you didn't," he replied and ran a hand through her hair.
"Don't leave me," Buffy said, catching his hand and pressing it to her cheek.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Spike replied, pulling her back to him. She could feel his whisper against the shell of her ear. "I always come back."
Buffy woke abruptly as the SUV turned on a dusty road and rubbed her aching temples. The dream was back with a vengeance. It was nothing new. Buffy understood how those nightmares worked from too much past experience. The dreams would carry on and on before eventually fading out into a rare occurrence that stung and ached, but no longer tormented. But somehow this dream left her more disturbed than those of the past.
She'd had to kill Angel, it was him or the world, and there was nothing she could have done for her mother. But this pain, the simple revelation that had haunted her after Spike's death was utter torture. She could have saved him if she had just thought things through, she knew it, and apparently her dreams did too.
Sometimes she would pull off the amulet and throw it into the depths of hell, sometimes she smashed in the crystal face of it, sometimes she wore it herself before the light even started to glow, giving him time to get away.
I could have done something, she thought, and I just let him burn.
Guilt was pointless, Buffy knew, but it was still there, a dull throb in the back of her mind. So what if he had been prepared to die? She had never felt more helpless than when she stood there, unsure of what to do, while he rejected her final words to him. Now saving him haunted her every dream.
She had thought that getting away from the slayer life for a while would put a stop to the nightmares. Rome had been her first real vacation since becoming the slayer all those years ago, not counting a couple of months the summer after killing the Master. Shopping and partying became the norm there funded, in a strangely satisfying twist of fate, by the money that the old Watcher's Council left behind after their assassination. She was finally getting paid for the work she'd done, only now she wasn't doing it. Instead, that job was left up to the newly called slayers, all trained under the new and improved Council's eye and sent out to wherever they were needed. Three slayers were with Faith and Robin in Cleveland.
"Wow, you're awake?"
Dawn. Buffy had almost forgotten that she wasn't alone. Her sister sat beside her, looking bored out of her mind, arms crossed, foot tapping.
"I guess I am. What time is it?" Buffy asked and stretched.
"Late, or maybe early. I don't know, I have major jet leg," Dawn said.
"Remind me why you came with me again?" Buffy asked, rubbing her eyes.
"I thought I might be a little homesick," Dawn said and shrugged. "I was wrong. How was the meeting with Captain Forehead?"
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you call Angel that?"
Dawn shifted uncomfortably. "Does it matter?"
Buffy sighed. She wished Dawn would stop tiptoeing around the subject of her dead not-quite-boyfriend. Buffy was getting sick of the coddling. "Dawnie—"
"Forget I said anything," Dawn said quickly. "How'd the Angel thingy go?"
"I think I filled my awkward quota for the month, but it could have been worse," Buffy said. "Is it wrong that I expected better?"
Seeing Angel for the first time since their meeting in Sunnydale had been jarring, Buffy had to admit. It brought back the reality of what had occurred that day, the confusion she'd felt, and the ensuing guilt. She had been prepared to go into that café and make her peace with the situation, just as she had been making peace with everything else for the past almost-year, trying to find closure.
"What did you talk about?" Dawn asked.
"Nothing. Everything. I don't know," Buffy said honestly. "I thought this would make me feel something different…but it didn't"
"Buffy, is Angel still in love with you?" Dawn asked.
Buffy frowned, considering their conversation. She hadn't been surprised that he'd known she was in Rome. Angel had always been the stalker type—was it just a vampire thing?—and now that he was the head of such a powerful law firm, with more employees at his disposal than he could count, she'd expected as much. He cared, clearly, but love, romantic love, that was something else. Once upon a time she would have said yes in a heartbeat, but now she was not so sure.
"I don't—"
"Don't get back together with him, Buffy," Dawn said automatically.
Buffy's eyebrows rose. "Okay, wasn't gonna. What's with the passionate plea, Dawn?"
Dawn frowned and crossed her arms. "It just seems like an insult to his memory, that's all. You, going back to Angel, after what he did."
"You didn't want me to date any of those guys in Rome either, but you didn't forbid me. I'm not getting back with Angel, but even if I was…" Buffy paused and met her sister's eye. "Spike is dead, Dawn. He is never coming back."
"I know."
"As much as it might hurt still, he died so we could live. That's what I'm trying to do, I'm trying to live again," Buffy said. "I mourned, okay? I still am…I still do…sometimes," Buffy stopped and looked at her hands, new resolve in her voice. "But I'm not going to live in nun-like existence just because my lover burned to death."
Dawn raised an eyebrow. Buffy could tell she was torn between mocking her for her melodrama or pushing her to open up. Both were bad options in Buffy's book.
"So you and Angel?"
"Over. It's water under the bridge," Buffy paused. "Or is it over the bridge? Whatever, either way the saying goes, we're done."
"Good," Dawn said quietly. She was waiting for Buffy to speak, to say something more. When she didn't, Dawn veered on to a new subject. "I don't know what the hell the Council was thinking with this car. It probably only gets five miles to the gallon, do you know how bad this is from the environment?"
"Yeah, but hey, it has that stealth factor they were going for," Buffy said.
"Right," Dawn said with a huff, falling back into the seat. "Well, I don't like it. It's conspicuous, not stealthy, and not to mention a total greenhouse gas hazard."
"Come on Granola Girl," Buffy said. "It's not like we're even driving that far."
They were heading down a bumpy desert road toward a small, private airstrip near where California bordered Arizona. A plane would be waiting for them to begin their journey back across the pond.
"Still, I'm totally complaining to Giles when we get back," Dawn said.
"Yep, you do that," Buffy replied, digging around in her backpack for her water bottle. Her fingers met a crinkled piece of paper. Angel's letter.
Buffy stared down at the white, slightly wrinkled envelope in her hands, turning it over and smoothing out creases. What had Angel meant 'open it when she was alone'? She had forgotten how much he could piss her off when he went into mysterious mode.
"Hey, what is that?"
"Huh?" Buffy asked, startled from her revere. "Oh, I'm not sure. Angel gave it to me."
"And you didn't open it?" Dawn asked.
"No, he was kinda weird about the whole thing…" Buffy stared down at the envelope with renewed caution. "Angel mentioned something about Sunnydale."
Sunnydale was not something she and Dawn often talked about. It was on the list of non-topics, and combining that with Buffy vowing to live an Angel-free existence made the envelope spell trouble.
"I think you should open the letter, Buffy," Dawn said. "If Angel knew something about Sunnydale, in its pre-crater days, maybe it's important."
Buffy stared down at the envelope in her hands and said softly, "I'm thinking that I won't."
"What, why not?" Dawn exclaimed.
"Because," Buffy said. "Every time that Angel does something like this, no good comes out of it. He works for Baddies Incorporated now. What if whatever's in this envelope is dangerous?"
"Buffy—"
"What if it hurts someone I care about?" she whispered, crushing the paper slightly in her fist. "I couldn't take that again."
"But, it's about Sunnydale," Dawn insisted.
Buffy shook her head. "Even more reason to throw it away."
Dawn rolled her eyes and leaned over the seat to snatch the paper from Buffy's fingers. "I'll open it."
"Dawn, don't," Buffy warned, but her sister was already pulling the single sheet from inside the envelope as the car slowed to a stop. Buffy was only vaguely aware of the lights of the runway nearby.
"You say you don't care, Buffy, but I know you do. I do too, you aren't the only one who lost people you loved there, you know," Dawn said.
"I know," Buffy whispered. "But, Dawnie—"
Dawn paused, the folded, clearly handwritten, note halfway out of its confines just as the car stopped on the airstrip's edge. The plane was already waiting for them, engine running, courtesy of the New Watcher's Council.
The driver in the front hopped out and opened the door for them. "Ready to go?"
Buffy didn't budge. "Give me the note, Dawn."
"No," Dawn said. "You're just going to throw it away. You say you're coping Buffy, but face it, every time Sunnydale comes up you just run away from the problem. If this has anything to do with what happened, I think you need to face it."
"Dawn," Buffy said, a warning in her voice. "I am so not afraid to play slayer right now."
"Fine, see if I care," Dawn said, resolve strong. "But if someone gave me something connected with the last place I saw people that I loved alive, I would read it."
"Fine," Buffy said, sighing loudly and inching closer to Dawn, who narrowed her eyes and clutched the envelope protectively, "I guess that's a good idea—give me the note, Dawn!"
Buffy snatched the letter back before Dawn could blink and held it tightly in her hand, crumpling it. She didn't care, she was sick of Dawn trying to analyze her feelings, just like she had been doing for months. The anger ebbed slightly as she stared down at the balled up paper in her hands. Buffy comforted Dawn when she had sobbed about her mother and Tara's graves being destroyed in the Hellmouth's collapse, when she had curled up in her bed in the middle of the night to apologize for never making up with Spike, or for resenting Anya back in the days of her crush on Xander. Dawn kept trying to do the same for Buffy and all she did was push her away. What kind of a sister was she? Guilt overwhelmed her. Dawn was only trying to help. She smoothed the crinkled paper and got out of the car. Dawn followed, shooting Buffy a glare.
"I'm sorry, Dawnie," she said as Dawn pushed past her on the runway. "I'm just…I thought I was over everything and seeing Angel again just made it all real."
"It was always real," Dawn said bitterly.
"I know," Buffy murmured and reached out to touch her sister's shoulder, "I'll read it."
Dawn slowed down and fell into step beside Buffy, walking toward the plane. "Really, you aren't just saying that?"
Buffy shook her head. "Nope, I'll open it, read it, and even write a thesis about it, if that will make you feel better. I promise."
Dawn brightened slightly. "Good. Now, about the in flight movie, please tell me that it's something other than that comedy we had on the way over, because that thing was crap."
Buffy smiled at the sight of her sister running up the plane steps, Dawn's thoughts removed from collapsing Hellmouths to more mundane things. That makes one of us, Buffy thought. At least she hadn't screwed things up with Dawn. After that meeting, the last thing she wanted was more emotional stress.
As if on cue, Dawn peered around the open plane door. "Buffy! This jet is way nicer than the last one Giles chartered, they have these tiny little bottles of—"
"Don't drink them," Buffy said quickly, not even looking up.
"But you let me drink in Italy," Dawn protested.
"We aren't in Italy, are we?"
Dawn's long hair whipped around as she huffed and stalked back into the plane.
Buffy rolled her eyes and paused at the plane door, holding the envelope in her hands. What was in it? The thought of Angel knowing something that he didn't want to share with her in person was a strange one. It was going to either devastate her or really piss her off. Maybe both. Buffy glanced up at the stars, billions of them in the night sky and back down at the note, folded and clumsily stuffed back in the envelope. She was technically alone. Somehow, it felt like the right time.
Unsure and suddenly nervous, Buffy pulled the note out with shaking fingers. She recognized Angel's cultured, slanted writing instantly. Each letter was carefully formed, almost cautiously. Her eyes roamed the page, it was short, just a few small paragraphs. She began skimming and froze as words jumped out at her. Buffy's eyes were huge on her face, her brows knotted. Her chest felt constricted, too tight. Buffy swallowed and read it again, shocked to see the ink bleeding before she realized that it was a tear she'd shed that caused it.
"Buffy, come on," Dawn called from inside the plane. "We're getting ready for takeoff."
Buffy shook her head, a hand to her mouth and crumbled the note in her fist before dropping it to the ground. Slowly, as if an outside entity controlled her body, Buffy walked down the steps. The moment her feet touched ground, her pace quickened. She was barely aware of running, then sprinting toward the SUV. She wrenched the door open violently, the hinges creaking in protest to her strength, but Buffy didn't care.
The keys were still in the ignition, the driver stood twenty feet away, speaking on his cell phone.
"Buffy!"
Someone was calling her name. Dawn, the small part of her brain that was still working piped up.
"You can't do that!" the driver yelled.
Buffy's eyes widened as he ran over, flipping his phone shut. She started up the car and put it in drive, barely missing him as she sped off. The tires screeched and the car bumped along in protest as she drove through a short expanse of wild desert before finding the road with her headlights. She slammed her foot on the gas, hard, and the car roared away into the night.
"If this is a sick joke, I swear I'll stake him myself," she said, watching the speedometer go up past ninety. Buffy ran her hand under her eyes, catching stray tears and wiping them away in a smear of mascara. Hastily, she rubbed at the smudges, swerving the SUV slightly before getting it back on track.
She knew what she was doing was insane, certifiable, but couldn't bring herself to care. If Angel was telling the truth, she wanted to see for herself.