The story was originally going to go differently from here. Then I saw Restless. And I couldn't help myself. Enjoy

Buffy sat, in the middle of her room. An enormous pile of stuffed animals sat before her. Dreamily, she sorted them into piles. Soft, pastel colors danced before her eyes as each toy passed before her gaze. She felt worn fuzz beneath her fingers. Some of the toys looked quite worn out. Others were completely broken.

So she sorted them.

She heard a scream outside the window, followed by a crash.

She ignored it, and sorted her toys.

She heard a cry for help.

She ignored it once more.

"Don't you think you should be doing something?"

She didn't look round. "I am doing something," she said pointedly to Giles.

"You're pretending," he said sternly. "You're hiding."

"I'm not hiding from anything. I'm doing very important and needful work." She looked over her shoulder and held up a broken toy car. "Do you think this can be fixed?"

He picked it up and turned it over and over, examining it closely.

"No. It can't."

She sighed. "But it's my favorite!"

He sighed irritably and passed it back to her. "Buffy, an important lesson you'll have to learn…"

She turned her back on him, and returned to sorting. "No more lessons. No more lessons from dead guys."

He grumbled a bit, but sat down next to her and joined her in sorting. "Buffy, please. An important lesson you'll have to learn is that some things just can't be fixed."

He was about to place an old, dog-eared book of fairy tales in the "broken" pile, but Buffy made a growling noise and he hurriedly put it in the "okay" pile. He cast a glance over the "okay" pile, which was nearly as big as the pile they were sorting.

"Some things just can't be fixed," he repeated. "Sometimes you just need to take that first important step and get rid of them."

She stared hard at him. "Like you?"

He nodded. "Yes. Exactly."

"It's not as easy as it sounds, you know." She gestured at the pile. "This is a lot for one girl to carry to the Dumpster. Why don't you help?"

He started to clean his glasses, and Buffy got the impression that he was becoming steadily more irritated. For the life of her, she couldn't understand why. There was nothing dangerous about sorting toys. She couldn't understand why he was even here in the first place.

"Due to the virtue of being dead I am released from the obligation of helping you take out the trash." He slipped his glasses back onto his face and stared hard at her. "Buffy, you have to listen to me. Your life could depend on this…"

"No more lessons!" she yelled, getting to her feet and glaring at him. "No more lessons from dead guys! I'm on my own now! I'm all independent!"

"Except you don't have to pay rent," he reminded her. "Buffy, if you're on your own, why am I still here?"

"Because you're the only one who can make grilled cheese sandwiches!" she yelled angrily. "And dust! And get rid of the gnomes in the bathtub!"

He got to his feet as well, and said, very slowly, in a voice that was somehow clearer than the rest of the world. "No. It's because you can't gather up the courage to take out the trash."

"I've got other stuff to do!" she snapped, then grabbed Mr. Gordo from the top of the pile and ran from the room.

Angel stood by a doughnut shop, drinking from a mug. She hurried over to him. "Angel! Hide me!"

He looked up, and smiled wryly as he looked at her. Then, he checked his watch. "It's half past New Zealand. Are you skipping out again?"

She bobbed her head. "Yeah. Mr. Gordo and I have other stuff to do."

He laughed. "Okay. Go hide. I'll throw him off."

She thanked him, and dropped down behind an elephant that was eating a cheeseburger.

Soon, Giles came hurrying over to the doughnut shop. "Angel. Have you seen Buffy? It's vitally important."

He pointed in the direction opposite the elephant. "Yeah. She went over to the merry-go-round."

He nodded, then hurried away.

The elephant was suddenly gone, and Angel was staring at Buffy.

"You can't run forever," he said softly.

"Oh yes I can," said Buffy firmly. "Just a hop, skip, and a jump and I'm free and clear. Over the hills and through the woods."

Angel nodded in the direction Giles had gone. "He doesn't quit."

"Neither do I," said Buffy, getting to her feet. Mr. Gordo stood up shakily and dusted himself off.

Angel walked over to her, and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

"It's a little late to be saying that, don't you think?" he asked quietly.

"What do you mean?" She gripped his hands. "Angel!"

He broke away from her grip and took several steps back. Then, he spread his arms wide, and smiled.

"Wish I could stay and chat, Buffy. But I've got to go."

"But it's only a quarter to chicken! Can't you stay?"

He shook his head. "No. Time to go. Time to move on."

A beam of intense sunlight cut through the heavy cloud cover. It hit Angel dead on, and he was gone.

Mr. Gordo was suddenly sitting on her shoulder. He patted her on the cheek. "Don't worry. It doesn't matter."

She swallowed, but nodded. "No. It doesn't."

Then, she walked away.

She passed a lemonade stand, manned by Miss Calendar. She stopped, and walked over. "Hey, how much?"

Miss Calendar, leaning against the table that made up her stand, smiled sadly. "You haven't finished paying, you know. No discounts."

Buffy dug in her pockets. "But I already gave you a cherry pie."

"Geez, Buffy, don't you even give your teachers a break when they're dead?"

Buffy shrugged. She pulled out a paddle ball, a Slinky, a bag of potato chips, then…

"A-ha!" she cried, producing a computer mouse that was missing its tail. She laid it on the table. "Two lemonades!"

Miss Calendar nodded and took the mouse. "Right. You got it."

In a blur, two glasses of lemonade were on the table. Buffy took one, and handed the other to Mr. Gordo. She thanked Miss Calendar, and turned to leave.

A hand shot out and grabbed her around the forearm. She turned, to see Miss Calendar leaning across the desk, a desperate expression on her face.

"Wait," the woman pleaded.

"I've got other stuff to do," Buffy insisted, trying to tug her arm free.

Miss Calendar was changing. Her skin was growing wrinkled and dry. Her eyes were going dull, and her grip was weakening even as Buffy fought it.

"Oh, stop being a brat, Buffy," said a voice.

She looked, and saw Giles standing before her, vamp face out for all to see. In a blur he'd produced a knife and slashed her in the throat.

Buffy gasped, and slowly raised a hand to the wound. Blood trickled between her fingers, and as she watched Giles held up a small vial to catch the dark red droplets. He brushed past her, and she turned to see him offer the blood to the dying Miss Calendar. He took the woman in his arms and helped her drink it.

"That tastes nice," she murmured dreamily, and as Buffy watched she reverted to her natural, whole self.

"Want some more?" asked Giles, carefully settling her on her feet.

She smiled up at him. "Oh, yeah. Your treat."

Then her own face changed, becoming a vampire face to match Giles' in ferocity.

They both turned to face her. Buffy, trying to reason with them but lacking a voice, backed away.

The two vampires advanced.

Someone else grabbed her wrist and tugged her away. "Come on!"

She ran with them, and the world changed.

She was in a desert, a windswept desert dotted with scrub brush and dead trees. Someone was still gripping her shoulders. She looked up, and Giles looked back at her.

"Are you all right?" he asked intensely.

"Put the knife down," she ordered him sternly.

He held up both hands, which were quite empty. "I never had a knife, Buffy. That wasn't me. You have to realize that, because if you don't…"

She turned away from him and started walking. "No more lessons. No more lessons from dead guys."

She heard him sigh, then:

"How about some advice from a friend?"

This made her pause, and turn. It was growing hotter in the desert, and while she stood in the meager shade under a tree he stood out in the open.

Buffy nodded.

"Okay."

She walked back over to him. He held out a hand.

"First, give me that."

She blinked, and saw that he was staring at her shoulder.

Buffy reached up, and picked up what had been Mr. Gordo. Now, it was only a lump of thread and cotton.

She felt her lower lip start to quiver. "Oh."

"It's broken, Buffy. You can't do anything about it. I'm sorry, but…"

She held the mess in her arms. "But he…means so much…"

His hands closed on hers. "Yes. And he knows that, I know he does. But it's time to make a choice."

She looked up at him…then she let him take the remains of her stuffed pig.

He scattered the mess to the winds, and she watched sadly as it drifted away.

"Now what?" she asked. "You gave your ghostly message. You and Angel. Now what?"

"Now you stop running," said Giles. "Now you wake up, and make your choice."

She looked up at him. "But if I do, you're going to disappear."

He nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry."

She took a deep breath. "Well…since I probably won't remember doing this…"

She hugged him, even as she felt the dream fade. "Giles, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…I'm sorry, sorry, sorry…"