AN: Thanks for all the reviews. From now on (due to some confusion) all scene changes will be signified by little ~~~~~~~~~~~~~'s, flashbacks by [ ]'s, and dreams/fantasies by ***********'s (flashbacks/dreams/fantasies also notified by indents). Hopefully that will help. Please, keep reading! I am going somewhere with this, I swear..

Her Face

It rained that day. How appropriate. Buffy stood in the doorway to their building, clutching her umbrella. Why did the weather always suit her mood?
Xander was leaving today. He had gotten a job with a construction crew working on the outskirts of Las Vegas. True, he would only be an hour or two's drive from them. But it still hurt. They were all leaving.
The Slayers were thinning. They had sent two to a hellmouth in Africa. One to England. One to a newly discovered hotspot in New Zealand. And yesterday, three had departed to clean up Cleveland. Their numbers were dwindling.
Kennedy would be leaving to eliminate a vampire coven in Washington soon. Willow would go with her. She had pointed out they wouldn't be long. A month or two, at most. And they would call her if they needed her.
Everyone was going. Everyone was going about his or her life, trying to continue with the good fight. Right the wrongs. Kill the bad guys. Find the evil and drive it out.
She had tried to stay busy. Why, one day she had managed to wake up, shower and go to buy groceries. She searched in the classifieds for a part time job. She looked into the local high schools for Dawn. She tried to accept the cards fate had dealt her.
Note on tried.
She didn't want to live in this apartment anymore. Time to get out. Get some money. Buy a house. Normal things. Happy things.
Happy?
[He had come to kill her. But once he saw her he knew he couldn't. She
looked up, and saw him there. Standing there. He put down his gun, and
sat down next to her. He lightly patted her on the back. And she never
let on. He never knew how much it meant.]

He started, recoiling out of his dream at the sound of her coming. The girl. She had come. He could sense her.
"William."
He waited. There was nothing left to say. He could only listen.
"We have done much thinking over your request." This peaked his interest. Not that he would let her know that, of course. But he listened more carefully. This was worth hearing. "And we have come to a decision." "You have?" Spike came forward. He prepared himself. He hoped. "What? What is it?" "We have decided to grant you your request." After a moment of pure elation, Spike frowned a little. What did that mean? He had requested more than one thing. Huh? "And that would be." "We have granted your request." She turned, and left. Just like that. He was alone again, and confused. Thoroughly. He remembered what he had asked. He remembered perfectly. Every word that had come out of his sodding mouth.
["I can't stay here. Either kill me for good, let my being become
nothing, destroy my soul. Or send me back where I bloody belong." ] Oh bloody. He whirled around. Her voice, all around him.
["I love you."
"Could you just hold me?"
"I love you."
"It was meant for a champion."
"I love you."] The light was getting brighter. Her scent was all over him. Like vanilla and roses and jasmine all in one. All in her. Her fingers. Her hands. Her legs, wrapped around him. Her eyes, taking in every bit of him. Her lips, softly against the skin of his cheek. Slowly. Always slowly. Her face was the last thing he saw.

She hugged him close. She could feel that awful patch rub against her skin. My fault. She pulled him closer. "Easy there, Buff." Xander patted her on the back as they separated. He looked around, sighing. After one last hug from Willow, and nearly getting knocked over by Dawn, he turned for the car. His car. Nice of the group to help him buy it. "Well." Buffy watched him. He waved goodbye. He said he'd call them once he got there. Then he got in the car, and left. Just like that. She walked back inside. Up the flight of stairs. Three doors down, and to the left. Don't forget your key. Light switch on your right side. Don't trip on the shoes. It smells like cigarettes in here.. Cigarettes? Slowly, she entered the apartment. It was coming from her bedroom. Buffy walked quickly to the bedroom. The door was ajar. She looked around it. There was someone sitting on the bed. Someone wearing a leather jacket. Leather jacket. Cigarettes. A chill ran down her spine. She walked in. Faith turned around, and gave her a little smile. Cigarette in hand. Leather jacket. Buffy let her breath out. Silly of her. Faith walked over, patted her on the shoulder. "Sorry, B. Couldn't be out there, ya know?" She nodded. The smoke curled up around the girl's fingers, wafted up into her hair. Disappeared. She wondered where it went. Faith walked out. The smell lingered. She'd forgotten what it had been like. She'd forgotten how she'd liked it. She sat down on her bed, facing the wall. Faith had left her pack on the nightstand. Buffy picked it up. She fingered the lid. Pulled one out. There was a lighter in the drawer. She put the cigarette to her lips, lighting the end. Inhale. Exhale. The smoke drifted towards the ceiling. Inhale. Exhale. She wondered if people smoked in Heaven.