January 22-23, 1999

Buffy's senses were assaulted as she slowly came back to awareness. She was so disoriented and her memory felt so scrambled that she had no idea what had happened to her; she didn't even know where she was, but she could tell she was lying on her back. What she did know was that there was something different about her-fundamentally different. There was an instinct that wanted to say it was something wrong, but she dismissed the notion as soon as she had become aware of it. The voice inside her head that was always there to make the distinction between right and wrong was just…gone. And it felt freeing.

The odor of decay with a mustiness of abandonment mixed with newly laid brick and mortar pervaded her nostrils. She had always had a keen sense of smell-a Slayer gift, but it had never been like this. It was so enhanced it was nearly unbelievable and also overwhelming. Her hearing was the same. She swore she could hear the termites feasting on the rotting wood, all manner of insects and mice skittering around everywhere. There was also a rapid beating sound and whoosh-whooshing, and a few other sounds she couldn't quite place.

The deep humming of a song that sounded vaguely familiar prompted Buffy to finally open her eyes. The lighting where she was was dim at best and yet she could see as clearly as if she were outside in the bright Southern California sun, all open skies and no structure to offer any shade whatsoever. It was amazing!

Still on the floor, Buffy slowly turned her head to the right, and the sight before her was shocking. Joyce Summers, her mother, was sitting in a wooden chair, hands and feet bound to the arms and legs, and gagged. She obviously couldn't speak, but that didn't stop her from trying, she desperately pulled at her bonds, but there wasn't much give. There were wet and dried tear streak trailing down her cheeks and her eyes were filled with nothing but pure, horrified panic.

"You're awake. Good. We've been waiting, haven't we, Mother?"

Approximately 24 hours earlier

Buffy was once again asking why the universe was such a fickle bitch as she walked home from Angel's mansion on Crawford Street. He had offered to walk her home, but she had declined, knowing that she would be poor company, lost to her thoughts as she was. She wanted to rant and rage, and demand for someone, anything, to explain why this was happening to her. After everything she'd been through, what had she done to deserve this? Had she not earned some kind of break?

Of course not, she thought as she huffed in annoyance. That would make life too easy. That made Buffy scoff. No rest for the weary, and all that, she thought peevishly.

For the last three years, Buffy had resisted, pushed and pulled at her Calling as the Vampire Slayer. She had reluctantly accepted her duty as the Chosen One, and did her best to protect those she had been Called to protect. She had even died for them! How many times had she whined that it wasn't fair that her life wasn't normal? How many times had she wished she was not the Slayer? How many times, especially when Kendra had been Called after she'd died meant her 'destiny' had technically been passed on, had she been tempted to tell the Watchers Council to go screw themselves? That chance was finally upon her… and she balked at the notion that she might actually get to be a normal girl?! What was wrong with her?!?!

Buffy kicked at a rock in her path. The distance it traveled, or didn't travel, made her scowl. Her Slayer strength was gone. Without it, that meant Buffy couldn't take down the football team's entire defensive line while hardly breaking a sweat. The next time something attacked the school or the Bronze, she could run away with everyone else instead of running towards it. She could stay home, paint her toenails, and drool over magazine pictures of Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt, and Johnny Depp instead of wandering cemeteries looking for disturbed graves or stumbling across demons stealing dangerous artifacts (items that should've been destroyed or never made in the first place! Seriously!) from mausoleums. Neither assassins nor bounty hunters would be sent after her. She wouldn't constantly have a target painted on her back.

What else had Buffy gotten over the years for being the Slayer? She had died, for one. She was labeled as "unstable" and a "troublemaker." She'd been kicked out of school in L.A. and Sunnydale. Her parents had divorced. Their marriage had already been on the rocks before she'd been activated, but Buffy suddenly getting into so much trouble all the time had exacerbated the problems, and they'd finally called it quits. Classmates and friends had died or almost died because of her-Angelus targeting Theresa and Jenny Calendar because of their connections to Buffy came to mind. A bounty hunter had attacked her at school and Oz had been shot because of it. Her mom had unwittingly been in danger several times, too. How many times had Giles, Willow, Xander, and Cordelia almost not made it out of a situation alive because they were helping her or were in the wrong place at the wrong time? Jenny hadn't made it. Neither had Kendra.

One of her oldest friends had tried to serve her up on a silver platter to her enemy in exchange for eternal life. Even though Buffy understood that Ford had had brain cancer, was scared and didn't want to die, it didn't negate the fact that he'd been happily willing to barter her life for an undead one for himself; either unaware or uncaring that his new existence wouldn't be him anymore. The thought of his betrayal still stung.

Then there were the numerous injuries she received on almost a nightly basis. How many times did a fight leave her bruised and sometimes bloody or with multiple bone fractures? She may heal fast, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt when she's initially injured, or sore for the length of time it would take a more severe wound to heal.

Let's see. What else was there???

Oh yeah, Buffy had had to kill her boyfriend! She'd sent Angel to a hell dimension to save the damn world-again. She'd endured months of emotional, sometimes physical if they actually engaged in a fight, torture because Angel had lost his soul. And just when she could've had him back, she'd had to shove a sword through his heart and watch as he was swallowed by Acathla's vortex. She'd saved the world, but at the cost of the love of her life. It was the cruelest of cruelties.

Her mom had also kicked her out of the house when Buffy had been forced to reveal the truth to Joyce last year. And what had happened after she came back? Her friends had treated her like dirt (especially Xander!) and her mom's friend had condescendingly scolded Buffy like a little kid with a hand caught in the cookie jar for running away. Buffy couldn't help but secretly be a little glad Pat wasn't around anymore when she would acknowledge her vindictive thoughts.

She had felt like none of them understood what she'd been going through, and hadn't even tried to understand. They'd just wanted to dismiss her pain and chastise her, pretending that it hadn't been a big deal she'd killed Angel and that taking off after had been selfish and childish of her. She'd like to know how they would've dealt with the same circumstances. Would they have taken it well? Hadn't Giles suicidally confronted Angelus after Jenny died? Even though Spike and Drusilla hadn't joined the fracas, Giles never could've won that fight.

It annoyed Buffy to this day that they couldn't separate Angel from Angelus. She didn't know why it was so hard for them to understand that it had been Angelus, not Angel, who had killed Jenny. They just didn't want to understand, she'd finally realized. Giles was the person most equipped to know that the soul inside Angel made all the difference, and he was not responsible for Jenny's death, yet Giles chose not to see past that. It was Angel who was there,though,and with the same face as her killer, so it was he who faced the brunt of their anger. And Xander, as usual, was leading the torch and pitchfork wielding mob against him. She didn't think he'd ever experience a growth in maturity.

It felt like things had finally started falling into place, especially since Christmas. It might have been shaky ground for a while after Faith had first shown up, but Buffy finally had someone who could watch her back and didn't have to worry that they couldn't keep up. It also felt like her mom was more understanding and supportive of her Slayer duties. She didn't have to worry about sneaking in and out of the house anymore or getting into trouble and grounded for fighting because Joyce knew it was necessary, that people would die if she didn't. She was also getting along with her friends and Watcher better than ever since her return. Life is actually pretty good right now, or it had been, Buffy thought bitterly.

All of those things were good, yes, but the best thing was that Angel had somehow (it really didn't matter how to her) been brought back from Acathla's hell dimension. He had his soul, he was sane, and most importantly, they were back together. It had been excruciatingly painful trying to stay away from him, but that was over now. They had stopped fighting their feelings and admitted they should be together. It was an extremely unconventional relationship, what with their limitations and all, but that didn't matter to Buffy. She just wanted to be with him, in whatever capacity possible. Although, she did have a selfish hope buried in the deeper recesses of her heart that someday they might be able to find a way around the part of the Gypsy Curse that kept her and Angel from being fully intimate on a physical level.

Buffy's reverie was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream. It turns out that her instinct to help that was born out of her years as the Slayer was not entirely gone, for she was spurred into action the moment she'd heard the panicked plea.

"Help! Help me! Plea-"

Buffy had just rounded a tall hedge to see a man yanked through the front door of a house. It slammed shut, cutting off another cry for help. Her arrival had taken several seconds longer than it normally would have. Already there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead, and she was winded. All in all, not her usual response to battle, showcasing even further she was not the Slayer anymore. Despite this disadvantage, Buffy was still resolved to help.

With a bravado she didn't feel, Buffy burst through the door, intent on doing her best to rescue the poor soul inside. It was never to be, however. As soon as Buffy crossed over the threshold, she was beset upon by not one, not two, but three vampires. Without her Slayer strength, or even a weapon (the difference that would've made was negligible against those odds), she was no match for the supernaturally strong, soulless fiends. It was truly tragic how little time it took for her to succumb to the deadly attack. There was panic then pain and a sort of fading, everything slowed down, and then finally, nothing. She let go and allowed the blissful darkness to take her.

This is the story of how Buffy Summers, one of the greatest Slayers in history, died. Again. Only this time, there would be no one coming to revive her. She was well and truly gone.

The world would never be the same.

I know there's a lot of controversy surrounding Johnny Depp, but I stand by my decision to name him. No matter how you feel about the actor, it's indisputable that he was still in the major heartthrob camp in the late '90s. It's a show in the supernatural genre, yes, but I still want to infuse as much 'real life' into the story as possible.

This chapter isn't heavy on dialogue, I know, but I promise all of the introspection will come into play later. :)

A short but important chapter. Enjoy!