Her muscles ached, tightening, as she finished with the minions and worked
her way over to the older vampires, the masters of this sect. She ran, but
the seconds ticked away slowly, the trees passing not in a blur but instead
looking quiet and serene, out of place in this gory battlefield.
Buffy knew how it was going to end. She smiled, her heavy footfalls bringing
her closer to the last minute of this fight. She knew exactly how it was
going to end.
She was going to save the world.
She reached the group of vampires at long last and with a grunt, swiftly took
down two of the burly guards. The rest of them looked up in startled
silence, save the ones spreading the water on the ground and the tall,
magnificent looking one holding up the scroll.
In the quiet, the surprised stillness, Buffy grinned. "Hey everyone. Sorry
I'm late."
* * * * * *
"She's safe?" Xander asked, his voice barely audible for fear that he would
break the spell.
"She's protected," Willow clarified, staring at the floating flower that was
poised precariously in the air. "As protected as we can make her. But we
can't ensure her total safety, so just try to concentrate."
"Sorry," he apologized shakily, closing his eyes. He inhaled deeply, then
exhaled, wanting nothing more than to look over at Buffy and see how she was
doing, but not allowing himself the comfort.
Her voice sank into each of their minds, the grunts and shouts of her fight.
A demon shrieked as she killed it, and Xander supposed that would have to be
comfort enough.
* * * * * *
"You're too late, Slayer," the tall, stately one said calmly. "This is it."
He smiled, assured of his fortune, as he began spilling the rest of the water
onto the ground. The dirt hissed horribly as it soaked up the liquid, and
Buffy turned wide eyes to the smiling demon.
"I won't let you do this, you know," she said evenly. The head vampire's
eyebrow raised at her own confidence, and nodded after a moment.
"I would hope for nothing less than you trying to stop it to the death," he
conceded, a tinge of admiration on his voice.
They were at a stalemate. Buffy waited for something to happen, something to
show her what to do, and the vampires around her kept smiling.
She hated their smiles. Wanted to kick them off their smug faces.
Slowly, a gray mist began rising from the ground, twisting around itself,
alive in its own right. It headed toward three of the oldest, slipping over
their skin quickly moving over their chests and pausing, ready to sink into
the space that the absence of their souls had left.
And then Buffy knew. Knew how stupid they had all been, because it was
really all so simple. So easy.
She just had to kill them before the power took hold.
Leaping forward, she kicked the one with the scrolls in the neck, causing him
to stumble backward, desperately clutching at the mist resting over his
unbeating heart. As he hit the ground, she viciously shoved the stake into
his chest, her eyes glazed with the lust of the kill as he shattered into
dust.
And then the mist that had been about to fill him darted into her chest,
knocking her off her own feet. She yelled in shock as her back hit the
ground, looking down at herself in amazement. No pain.
Power.
Doing a backwards somersault, she flipped over and onto her feet before she
took a breath. The chanting vamp came at her, game face in place, growling.
She leaned down before he reached her and moved two steps to the side,
grabbing his foot as he ran past and yanking him back, making him fall with a
thump onto his face. She stepped on the small of his back, and with a quick
twist of the wrist, dusted him as well.
Turning to face the third, Buffy smiled to herself as the gray mist filled
her again. She remained on balance, and in control. Maybe the dreams were
wrong, she thought, hope suddenly filling her. She felt good. She felt
ready.
But she didn't see the sword.
* * * * *
In unison, the group looked up and away from the bowl, looked frantically for
Buffy, when her scream of pain tore through the night. As their eyes darted
away from the bowl, in that split second their concentration slipped, the
petals from the amazing, magical flower began to fall.
The spell had been broken.
Realizing this instantly, Angel was up and running before any of the others
could scramble to their feet. Pain that he had never felt contorted his
features into that of a vampire's, and he watched in helpless horror what was
happening to Buffy, still hundreds of yards away from her.
The sword had been rammed through her belly, no doubt piercing her spine. As
she stumbled forward, her stake slipped into the last vampire's chest and
before he even turned to dust, she was falling to the ground.
Angel sped up. ~Going too slow. Going too *fucking* slow!~
She hit the ground hard, looking down at her stomach in shock. Angel finally
reached her, staring as she used her last bit of strength to pull the sword
from inside her, and let it drop from her hands.
The scent of her blood filled his nostrils as it slipped from her body and
consecrated the still-steaming earth beneath her. The hissing stopped and
there was a moment of such startling hush. "No," he whispered.
It was the only thing he could say.
Her blood changed it all. Covered the ground in healing powers, making the
night safe again. It had always been said that the pure would save the
world. Angel had always just prayed that this wouldn't be how.
The mist from the third demon took its time but finally reached her and
slipped in, soothing, comforting, taking away the pain. Angel gathered her
limp body in his arms, brushing back her bloody hair with a bloody hand.
Buffy's eyes fluttered open. "Angel," she murmured, a smile touching her
lips.
He no longer tried to hide his tears; they ran down his face unchecked and
fell onto hers. But still she smiled.
"It's... It's going to be okay, Buffy," he finally told her urgently. "We're
going to get you to a hospital and everything will be all right. Just hold
on."
Weakly, she shook her head. "Spike was wrong, you know," she said sadly. "I
don't want to die."
Angel stared at her silently, not knowing what she was talking about and not
knowing how to respond.
Buffy gasped for breath painfully and then continued, her eyes on his in a
steady gaze. "I'm not sorry, though, Angel. Because I love you. It was
for..." She coughed and blood streaked her lips, "It was for you, you know?
For all of them. For every day."
"Buffy," he wept, "Please just hold on. Please don't leave me. Not when...
Please don't leave. ...I love you."
"Yes," she said. Her eyes were calm at last, no longer full of the torment
that had been with her for over half of her life. "Yes."
And then she was gone.
As her eyes closed for the final time, her name ripped from his throat, a
scream of the deepest sort of grief. Uselessly, he held her tightly, rocking
her back and forth, half-insane from the knowledge that this was final. That
she was gone.
She was gone.
The others approached tentatively. Oz and Cordelia gripped hands tightly.
Giles stared blankly at the scene in front of him, not really understanding;
not wanting to understand. Willow tried to breathe, gasped desperately for
breath, but it didn't seem to come although some hidden logical part of her
knew it must be. And Xander shook his head, denying everything that he knew
to be true, everything that he was seeing to be true as some sort of
nightmare, a nightmare that he thought he had gotten rid of a long time ago.
But none of it worked. None of it made her sit up and smile. None of it
could make her live again.
After nearly fifteen years of fighting darkness, the Slayer had died.
her way over to the older vampires, the masters of this sect. She ran, but
the seconds ticked away slowly, the trees passing not in a blur but instead
looking quiet and serene, out of place in this gory battlefield.
Buffy knew how it was going to end. She smiled, her heavy footfalls bringing
her closer to the last minute of this fight. She knew exactly how it was
going to end.
She was going to save the world.
She reached the group of vampires at long last and with a grunt, swiftly took
down two of the burly guards. The rest of them looked up in startled
silence, save the ones spreading the water on the ground and the tall,
magnificent looking one holding up the scroll.
In the quiet, the surprised stillness, Buffy grinned. "Hey everyone. Sorry
I'm late."
* * * * * *
"She's safe?" Xander asked, his voice barely audible for fear that he would
break the spell.
"She's protected," Willow clarified, staring at the floating flower that was
poised precariously in the air. "As protected as we can make her. But we
can't ensure her total safety, so just try to concentrate."
"Sorry," he apologized shakily, closing his eyes. He inhaled deeply, then
exhaled, wanting nothing more than to look over at Buffy and see how she was
doing, but not allowing himself the comfort.
Her voice sank into each of their minds, the grunts and shouts of her fight.
A demon shrieked as she killed it, and Xander supposed that would have to be
comfort enough.
* * * * * *
"You're too late, Slayer," the tall, stately one said calmly. "This is it."
He smiled, assured of his fortune, as he began spilling the rest of the water
onto the ground. The dirt hissed horribly as it soaked up the liquid, and
Buffy turned wide eyes to the smiling demon.
"I won't let you do this, you know," she said evenly. The head vampire's
eyebrow raised at her own confidence, and nodded after a moment.
"I would hope for nothing less than you trying to stop it to the death," he
conceded, a tinge of admiration on his voice.
They were at a stalemate. Buffy waited for something to happen, something to
show her what to do, and the vampires around her kept smiling.
She hated their smiles. Wanted to kick them off their smug faces.
Slowly, a gray mist began rising from the ground, twisting around itself,
alive in its own right. It headed toward three of the oldest, slipping over
their skin quickly moving over their chests and pausing, ready to sink into
the space that the absence of their souls had left.
And then Buffy knew. Knew how stupid they had all been, because it was
really all so simple. So easy.
She just had to kill them before the power took hold.
Leaping forward, she kicked the one with the scrolls in the neck, causing him
to stumble backward, desperately clutching at the mist resting over his
unbeating heart. As he hit the ground, she viciously shoved the stake into
his chest, her eyes glazed with the lust of the kill as he shattered into
dust.
And then the mist that had been about to fill him darted into her chest,
knocking her off her own feet. She yelled in shock as her back hit the
ground, looking down at herself in amazement. No pain.
Power.
Doing a backwards somersault, she flipped over and onto her feet before she
took a breath. The chanting vamp came at her, game face in place, growling.
She leaned down before he reached her and moved two steps to the side,
grabbing his foot as he ran past and yanking him back, making him fall with a
thump onto his face. She stepped on the small of his back, and with a quick
twist of the wrist, dusted him as well.
Turning to face the third, Buffy smiled to herself as the gray mist filled
her again. She remained on balance, and in control. Maybe the dreams were
wrong, she thought, hope suddenly filling her. She felt good. She felt
ready.
But she didn't see the sword.
* * * * *
In unison, the group looked up and away from the bowl, looked frantically for
Buffy, when her scream of pain tore through the night. As their eyes darted
away from the bowl, in that split second their concentration slipped, the
petals from the amazing, magical flower began to fall.
The spell had been broken.
Realizing this instantly, Angel was up and running before any of the others
could scramble to their feet. Pain that he had never felt contorted his
features into that of a vampire's, and he watched in helpless horror what was
happening to Buffy, still hundreds of yards away from her.
The sword had been rammed through her belly, no doubt piercing her spine. As
she stumbled forward, her stake slipped into the last vampire's chest and
before he even turned to dust, she was falling to the ground.
Angel sped up. ~Going too slow. Going too *fucking* slow!~
She hit the ground hard, looking down at her stomach in shock. Angel finally
reached her, staring as she used her last bit of strength to pull the sword
from inside her, and let it drop from her hands.
The scent of her blood filled his nostrils as it slipped from her body and
consecrated the still-steaming earth beneath her. The hissing stopped and
there was a moment of such startling hush. "No," he whispered.
It was the only thing he could say.
Her blood changed it all. Covered the ground in healing powers, making the
night safe again. It had always been said that the pure would save the
world. Angel had always just prayed that this wouldn't be how.
The mist from the third demon took its time but finally reached her and
slipped in, soothing, comforting, taking away the pain. Angel gathered her
limp body in his arms, brushing back her bloody hair with a bloody hand.
Buffy's eyes fluttered open. "Angel," she murmured, a smile touching her
lips.
He no longer tried to hide his tears; they ran down his face unchecked and
fell onto hers. But still she smiled.
"It's... It's going to be okay, Buffy," he finally told her urgently. "We're
going to get you to a hospital and everything will be all right. Just hold
on."
Weakly, she shook her head. "Spike was wrong, you know," she said sadly. "I
don't want to die."
Angel stared at her silently, not knowing what she was talking about and not
knowing how to respond.
Buffy gasped for breath painfully and then continued, her eyes on his in a
steady gaze. "I'm not sorry, though, Angel. Because I love you. It was
for..." She coughed and blood streaked her lips, "It was for you, you know?
For all of them. For every day."
"Buffy," he wept, "Please just hold on. Please don't leave me. Not when...
Please don't leave. ...I love you."
"Yes," she said. Her eyes were calm at last, no longer full of the torment
that had been with her for over half of her life. "Yes."
And then she was gone.
As her eyes closed for the final time, her name ripped from his throat, a
scream of the deepest sort of grief. Uselessly, he held her tightly, rocking
her back and forth, half-insane from the knowledge that this was final. That
she was gone.
She was gone.
The others approached tentatively. Oz and Cordelia gripped hands tightly.
Giles stared blankly at the scene in front of him, not really understanding;
not wanting to understand. Willow tried to breathe, gasped desperately for
breath, but it didn't seem to come although some hidden logical part of her
knew it must be. And Xander shook his head, denying everything that he knew
to be true, everything that he was seeing to be true as some sort of
nightmare, a nightmare that he thought he had gotten rid of a long time ago.
But none of it worked. None of it made her sit up and smile. None of it
could make her live again.
After nearly fifteen years of fighting darkness, the Slayer had died.