A/N: Following this post, there's only one more chapter remaining for this story - the epilogue. Also, I apologize in advance for the accent. What I wrote was painful enough. It's hard for me to EVER use improper grammar. A better writer would have been more comfortable immersing herself in the character's natural dialect. Sorry but, as always, enjoy!

~Charlynn~

Part Six

His temples throbbed, his neck and shoulders were so stiff with tension it felt as though they were frozen in place, and his eyes burned from lack of sleep. As a watcher, Giles was used to pushing his body to the maximum extremes, but he had far surpassed his usual unhealthy level of work, and, now, his body was paying the price for it. All he did was research. Even when he attempted to rest for an hour or two at night in his office, his mind wouldn't shut down long enough for unconsciousness to claim him. The worst part was that he knew all his efforts were in vain.

There was only one way to stop Acathla from rising. If they somehow managed to kill Angelus, then there would be no one left either willing or capable of awakening the demon. Spike had absolutely no interest in sending the world into hell. For a vampire known for successfully eliminating slayers, he was rather fond of the simple niceties in life and knew those would disappear if Acathla reigned again. As for Drusilla, while she might have the tendency to be extreme due to her insanity, without her sire by her side, she was tempered and controlled by Spike. His whims became hers, so, if Angelus was removed from the equation, the math would fail, and Drusilla would leave the hell vortex creating demon alone.

Objectively speaking, Giles had no qualms about ridding the world of another master vampire. Angelus was a cruel and vicious monster who, if destroyed, would no longer be able to kill upon impulse. It was his job to facilitate the slayer in her quest to protect humanity. If said slayer was incapacitated due to injury, then it just became that much more his responsibility to handle the evils they faced together. However, dusting Angelus meant more to the librarian than just that. If he succeeded in staking the vampire, then he would also be able to avenge the death of the woman he loved.

Ever since the moment he discovered Jenny's body arranged so morbidly in his bed, he had wanted the vampire to die. It didn't matter to the watcher any longer that Angelus had once been good, that he had once had a soul, and that Buffy was in love with his kinder, gentler version. Following Jenny's death, he suddenly saw the entire situation in a very black and white manner. Angelus was evil. Ergo, he must be stopped by any means necessary. He had welcomed the realization with open arms, for it had given him a purpose, something to fight for. Though it, at times, had caused tension between himself and his slayer, it had been a relief to leave any uncertainty behind. However, now, that uncertainty was back tenfold, and Giles found himself swimming in a sea of murky, gray confusion, for killing Angelus would also kill Buffy, and he wasn't sure he could live with the blood of another innocent upon his hands.

It was one thing to know that you did everything within your power to protect someone you loved and failed anyway, but it was entirely different story to realize you could have done more to keep them safe and didn't because you were distracted, because you were too focused upon something or someone else, because you just didn't think enough about the victim before they died. Though he had physically done nothing to bring harm to Jenny, the watcher still felt the sting of guilt where her death was concerned. Not a day went by when he didn't question himself and his own actions, mentally searching for a way that the events that surrounded her murder could have enfolded in an entirely different manner, and, while that self doubt was painful enough, he knew that he wouldn't survive the same misery in regards to his slayer. If Buffy were to die, she would eventually take him with her, but, at the same time, if she didn't die as a result of Angelus being stopped, then he and the rest of the world would perish anyway. He just wasn't sure which scenario would cause him more guilt. Looking up at the two innocent, eager to please faces before him, he knew the answer to that self-posed question.

Clearing his throat, Giles stood before the two teens, folded his arms behind his back, and clasped his hands together in what he knew resembled a very military styled stance. But the rigidity of his actions were a comfort, and they seemed entirely too fitting for the moment, for he was about to give orders to his, for a lack of a better term, troops, ones that none of them were going to particularly like. "I'm afraid we cannot put this off any longer. We need to… take care of this situation soon before it's too late."

Surprisingly solemn and more accepting than the British man was expecting, Xander simply asked, "how soon?"

"Tomorrow at midday when the sun is at its strongest. We're going to need every single advantage we can possibly have. The sun will prevent him from fleeing, and we'll seal off the mansion's sewer access."

Again, it was Xander who spoke up. "What about Spike and Drusilla?"

"I've already spoken with Spike, and he's given me his word that he will not interfere. Though I am loathed to put any faith in a vampire's honor, I do, in this instance, believe him. As for Drusilla, he will distract her for us, perhaps even take her to another location for the day."

"And afterwards?"

Addressing the young man, the watcher answered, "it'll be quick, relatively painless, I believe. She'll simply… fade away." Closing his eyes to prevent the tears he felt rapidly forming, Giles swallowed roughly before pressing on. "We'll destroy Acathla, break him apart into tiny, fragmented pieces, and then we'll scatter them in the ocean, hoping that the tides carry him off to places far and unknown. The apocalypse will be prevented." Unable to lie to the high school students, he added morosely in a whisper, "I just hope the price will not be too much."

After several minutes of quiet contemplation, Xander posed one more query. "And what about the slayer line? Will someone else be called once Buffy's…?"

"No, I don't believe so," the librarian responded. "At this point, I believe the slayer line rests with Kendra. However, she'll likely be called here to Sunnydale in order to protect humanity against the Hellmouth, and, seeing as how she already has a watcher, I'll, no doubt, be reassigned… that is, if I decide to remain with the Council at all."

He was thankful when neither teen questioned his last statement. Though he had anticipated their inquiries as to what he would do instead, where he would go, how they were supposed to mourn and move on without him, they had obviously, for once, realized that he wasn't capable of answering their questions at that point, for, honestly, he didn't know the answers himself. In fact, he feared what would happen to all of them once Buffy was gone. He loved the courageous, beautiful seventeen year old; she was the closest thing to family that he had, that he would ever have, for there were no children in his future. As for Willow and Xander, Buffy was their best friend, their protector, and they loved her just as much if not in a different way than he did himself. Without her, all three of them were going to be lost, sent adrift in a world that no longer made any sense. However, they would still be alive, and Giles firmly believed that's what Buffy would want. That's the only reason he was even willing to contemplate his proposed actions.

"What if there's another way?"

Lifting his forlorn gaze to the hopeful sounding redhead across from him, the watcher simply stated, "there isn't. We've exhausted all our resources and are no closer to finding a spell that will reverse the one Ethan Rayne placed upon Buffy. Our time is up. Now, we must do what is right, what it is that we think Buffy would want us to do. While she may have asked me to spare Angelus' life, I know my slayer, and she would rather sacrifice herself and the man she loves for the good of the world. I just… I just can't tell her that is what she is going to do. Let her… fade away in peace."

"No, what if there's another way to stop Angelus," Willow posed.

He had not been anticipating that objection. Finally, Giles responded, "well, that would certainly be helpful, but I'm afraid there just is no rationalizing with that monster. He either doesn't perceive the full impact of his actions, or he does and just doesn't care."

"Yes, but Angel would."

"Again, though, Angel is gone."

"But what if we can bring him back," she proposed brightly, eagerly.

"Willow, please, I know you don't want to do this. I don't either, but it's time we face facts. Angel's soul was released, the spell used to bring it back broken. If I could rewind time and change what occurred, I would, but I can't, and you need to come to terms…"

"I found a spell that Miss Calendar was working on that will re-ensoul him," she breathlessly interrupted. Inhaling in an attempt to calm herself down, Willow pressed on, "she must have been working on it before she… well…. That's probably why Angelus did what he did."

It was too much information at once, too much emotion. The idea was insanely appealing, but it was also crippling to know even further how his role in Jenny's life had led to her death. However, it wasn't the time or the place for him to wallow in his own misery, so, instead, Giles pushed aside his feelings and spoke rationally. "Even in possession of such a complicated spell, we're still powerless to use it. I haven't dabbled in magic that potent in a good many years, and the only other person we know capable of such a spell is the very person who has put us in this precarious position in the first place. There's no way Ethan would assist us in caging Angelus with a soul once more."

"Actually, I think you're wrong," Willow argued with him. He could tell by her own hesitance and by the shocked expression upon Xander's face that it was odd for the two students to even contemplate such an idea, let alone actually voice it out loud. "I think I could cast the spell… with your guys' help."

Silence descended upon the otherwise still library, and the watcher felt his mind racing around, and towards, and through the thought presented to him. It's implications were astounding to confront if successful, for the dynamics of their lives would shift, once more, rapidly and distinctly, but he couldn't dwell upon the what-if's and the maybe's; no, the only thing that mattered was that they had a potential means to save both the world and Buffy, and he would latch onto such an option with every last ounce of strength and conviction he possessed.

Finally, he responded, meeting Willow's steady gaze. "What do you need?"

"An Orb of Thessala," the burgeoning witch replied. "I have everything else necessary for the spell stocked here in the science lab."

"Alright, then," Giles nodded definitively just once before moving towards the library's doors, his keys already in his pocket. "Let's get to work."

( ~ )

"Knock, knock."

The unusual words announced his presence, and Buffy looked up, attempting – and failing – to hide her pleasure at seeing him. "You're late," she accused, pouting slightly. This brought a smile to the master vampire's full, sinful lips.

"I was busy. Are you going to invite me in?"

"You don't need an invitation anymore," she responded, unsure of what game Angelus was playing, but that wasn't unusual. He was always up to something, and she inevitably became curious, interested, drawn in to his little amusements.

"Yes, but I thought I'd be a gentleman this evening. After all, it's an important night for us, lover."

In response to his cool, smooth tone, she pinned him with her condemning gaze. "So, I take it that you already ate. Is that why you're late, you were off, busy draining another Buffy look-alike?"

"Jealous?"

"Hardly," she contended. And she really wasn't. Rather, his actions angered her, but, at the same time, gave her a sick, perverse thrill of satisfaction. After all, in a strange, homicidal way, it was flattering that he wanted no one but her.

"Well, either way, you're wrong. I haven't eaten… yet." Moving his dark eyes from the sill of her window to the position upon her bed he claimed as his own every evening, Angelus once more silently requested entrance into her bedroom.

"If you weren't eating, then what was it? Stalking?"

"No."

"Pillaging?"

Scoffing, he dismissed, "this isn't the nineteenth century anymore, Buff. I'm well beyond common thievery."

"Raping?" The one word caused a distasteful bile to rise into her throat.

"Actually, I find myself preferring my women willing these days." Shrugging his shoulders, he excused, "there's no accounting for my change in taste. It baffles me as well."

Tossing another suggestion into the ring while still refusing to invite him in, she asked, "brainstorming up your next dastardly plan?"

"Why get ahead of oneself, Buff, especially when I still haven't completed my current get evil quick scheme?"

Tossing her hands into the air, she exclaimed, "fine, I give up. Come in." As he moved to enter, she continued, "what were you doing then, buying some new leather pants?"

"No, but, now that you mention it, I might pick you up a few pairs." Sitting down beside her, he explained, "they'd be a sort of present to the both of us – me congratulating you on becoming well enough again to leave your bed, though I will miss these little nightly chats of ours. Plus, I'll get to enjoy the way your body looks while you move in them as we fight. I'm sure they'll turn me on even more."

"Yeah, and hinder my movements," she protested. "Nice try, but me in leather pants around you isn't happening." Becoming serious once more, Buffy insisted, "you were going to tell me why you were late."

"Oh, yes, that," Angelus agreed in his rather bellicose tone. "If you must know, I was thinking… about you."

Teasing him, she said in a sing-song voice, "only happy thoughts, I hope."

He glared in her direction. "They'll do… for now."

"Care to share what that devious mind of yours has cooked up now?"

"Well, I wanted to revisit that proposal I offered you several days ago," he replied.

Despite the fact that she knew exactly what he was referring to, the slayer still pretended to be confused. "What proposal?"

"Don't play the dumb blonde, Buff," Angelus ordered. "It doesn't suit you."

"Fine, but my answer's the same," she countered, her tone coming across slightly piqued. "I'm not willing to be your personal snack machine. Just consider me permanently out of service."

"Forever is a long time, lover, as you're aware I know of first hand. Besides," he drawled out, smiling smugly. "I've decided to change the terms of my offer."

Despite her best intentions, Buffy found that she was interested in what he had to say. "Keep talking. I'm listening."

"Like you'd be able to make me stop if I didn't want to," Angelus scoffed. After considering his words, though, he glanced down to her mouth. "On second thought…" In response, she simply narrowed her eyes, glared, and compressed her lips tightly together, causing him to chuckle. "Anyway, what if I was willing to hand Acathla over to you in exchange for a little taste?"

Without allowing herself time to become scared or nervous or to second guess herself, Buffy queried, "how much equals a little?"

"You'd be weakened, at my mercy, but I'd make sure you didn't lose consciousness. After all, I'd want to… play… with you some afterwards."

"And when you say that you'd hand Acathla over to me…?"

"I'd give him to your watcher to destroy," Angelus promised.

Despite the fact that he was evil – she had no doubt about that, for some reason, Buffy believed that she could trust him. Angelus preferred to use the truth and other people's weaknesses to hurt his victims; he didn't lie, especially not to her. Whether that was because he knew such an effort would be futile, for she could read him as well as he read her, or simply a part of his nature, she wasn't sure, but, nevertheless, she was thankful for the fidelity of his word.

"He could destroy him by whatever means he sees fit."

While she wasn't naïve enough to think that the master vampire would never try to send the world to hell again in the future, she would take a temporary reprieve while she could, especially since she was still not in top fighting form and too weak to physically prevent him from ending humanity. Suddenly, a curious thought occurred to her. "This hasn't been your plan all along, has it? Since I was already weakened and unable to stop you, you found the one thing that would make me willingly allow you to drink from me, didn't you?"

"A monster never shares his secrets, lover," Angelus taunted. Shifting his moods quickly, he leaned in closer to her, dropping his head down to rest against her shoulder so that his nose was pressed into the silky, smooth planes of skin along her neck. "So, should I take that as your assent?"

Barely breathing due to the sensations his nearness was causing in her body, Buffy murmured, "yes," repeating her acquiesce over and over again in a tone so soft, so intimate only the vampire beside her would have been able to hear the constant chanting.

He was gentle with her, kind, almost tender, and the juxtaposition of his actions with the character of the demon she had come to know extremely well over the past several weeks surprised the slayer. Where she had expected him to be cruel and mean, vicious with his attack, he was almost seductive. His lips first brushed over her skin, delicately kissing her neck several times before he released his fangs and they sank through her flesh and into her veins, and, when he pulled the blood from his body, he showed restraint. His actions, if she didn't know any better, could have been considered compassionate. It was almost as though he was attempting to make sure she enjoyed the embrace just as much as he did, whether to make it easier to convince her of a repeat performance in the future or simply to confuse her further, she wasn't sure. Whatever his reasoning, though, Buffy was thankful.

Her lids were becoming heavy, though, with sleep and pleasure, and she found them slowly descending as a sluggish wave of contentment washed throughout her languid form. Almost as though her limbs were moving on their own accord, her arms wrapped around him, one hand splaying across the tattoo upon his silk shift covered back while the other buried itself in his dark, thick hair. Shifting her lower body to fit tightly against his own, Buffy rocked into Angelus' hard form, her injured legs barely protesting when she squeezed them around the vampire's narrow, muscular hips. She was in the middle of a sensory overload and enjoying every single infinite, intense moment of it.

Suddenly, though, her eyes shot open in panic. Unsure of what caused her trepidation, her fear, the slayer warily glanced around her bedroom. It was clothed in shadows, the single, dim lamp beside her bed doing little to illuminate the otherwise dark space, but, still, she could sense the danger pervading the air. Stiffening with fear, she went to push Angelus away only to freeze when her vision realized the source for her alarm.

"Kendra, no!"

But the words were too little, too soft, too weak, and they came too late, for the stake was against and then through Angelus before Buffy could even attempt to shift him out of the way. In the last second of his existence, he pulled his mouth away from her neck, and their gazes locked. For a brief second, as the shock and… fear swept across his handsome features, she would have sworn she saw the man she fell in love with rather than the monster who had been obsessed with her for months, but then the moment was shattered as whoever it was that had been staring back at her disintegrated into a pile of vampire ash upon her bed.

"Me watcher was right," the other slayer whispered, her voice both sad and accusing. "He told me you had switched sides, that you were allowing your murderous boyfriend to run free, but I didn't believe him. So, I came here to see for meself, and 'dis is what I find – you in bed with that monster, drinking from 'ya."

"But you didn't ask… you just…" Struggling to find the words, Buffy could neither defend herself nor confront the facts. Instead, she latched onto her anger. "He wasn't hurting me!"

"No, I saw that," Kendra agreed, looking disgusted. "You were hurting yourself."

Sitting up from her bed, careful to not disturb the ashes beside her, the blonde stood, advancing upon her sister slayer, the pain in her legs forgotten in the moment due to her adrenaline and the emotional suffering she was experiencing. Raising a trembling, accusing finger, she yelled, "how dare you come into my town and judge me. You have no idea what the past few months have been like here!"

"'Dey would have been a lot safer for everybody else if you would have performed your duty. Angelus should have been killed months ago."

"It wasn't that simple," Buffy argued as tears started to course their way down her pale cheeks.

Glaring at her, the Jamaican slayer countered, "but it should have been."

She didn't have a chance to prepare before the blonde slayer was attacking her. Cocking her right hand, Buffy punched the other woman as hard as she could, but, even in her emotional state, she could tell that the blow barely fazed her opponent, let alone actually hurt her. And that didn't make any sense. Despite the fact that she was weakened by her injuries and from Angelus drinking from her, the sheer adrenaline of the moment should have provided her with at least a little strength, but she was no stronger than Willow and rapidly fading.

Meeting the gaze of her confused sister slayer, Buffy simply looked on in bewilderment. "What did that vampire do to you," Kendra wanted to know. "What is wrong?"

"I don't know," she confessed as she folded and fell bonelessly to the ground. Whatever it was, it didn't hurt. She just felt weak, numb, as though all the energy and strength was being stripped from her very body. Her breathing became shallow, her heartbeat slowed, and, soon, she wasn't even able to hold her own head up. Collapsing onto the ground, she remained there, motionless, as a dazed, scared Kendra looked on helpless.

Time passed, she wasn't sure how much, but, eventually, the monotony of the moments were interrupted by the pounding of several pairs of feet as they raced up the stairs. Without preamble, Willow burst into Buffy's room, joyously proclaiming her news before seeing the scene she had just stumbled in upon.

"I did it, Buffy; we did it! We re-ensouled Angel. He's back, Angelus is gone, and everybody's going to be okay." She knew the very moment her best friend finally noticed her lying prone upon the floor. "Buffy?"

From behind her, Giles cried out, "oh, dear god. We're too late."

"But how…" Willow questioned, her voice already hitching with barely repressed sobs.

In a somber voice, she heard Xander tell the others to look at her bed, but she was beyond actually listening at that point. As Buffy faded away, she knew she was dying, but she didn't really care. Without Angel to love… or even Angelus to struggle with, she didn't actually have a reason to fight for survival any longer, and her guilt embraced the release death offered. After all, it was one thing to live with the knowledge that her love banished her boyfriend's soul, but it was an entirely different matter to confront the knowledge that it was her weakness for the empty physical shell he left behind that caused his final and lasting death.

Through her selfishness, she had murdered the one thing that mattered the most to her in the entire world. In Buffy's mind, she no longer deserved to live, and she really didn't want to either. Death was a welcome reprieve.