Brave New World
Chapter Twenty: Epilogue

Author's Note: I took a little bit of inspiration from Chosen as to the vehicle the guys leave town in. It's really the only way to travel. Plus, a little inspiration from the Angel-verse...

Buffy kicked the door and it caved under her foot. She turned to Willow who hesitated at the doorway. Nibbling her lip, Willow entered the house, limping slightly.

The décor was dark and outdated. Heavy drapes, dark wood furniture and vases that were probably worth a whole ton of money. Buffy grabbed a hold of one and dropped it to the floor. Willow shot her a quizzical look and Buffy shrugged.

"It was ugly," she muttered, crunching the shards as they crossed the hall to the stairs.

Buffy went slightly ahead and Willow resisted the urge to yell out Spike's name. Her hands shook and she twisted them together to make it less obvious. She followed Buffy silently, mind half on Spike, while the other half wondered if the guys had reached the old Summers' house yet.

She shot Buffy a look. She had been a little surprised to hear Buffy say they would bury Faith there. Buffy was fiercely protective of that tiny plot of land. Willow understood that. Her friends were buried there, people she loved. But she had gained a whole new understanding of Buffy's protectiveness when Oz was buried there.

She gulped hard. Here she was, upset that Faith had died to save her and terrified that Spike might be dust. She always thought that when they won, she would be thinking about Oz. And she was, a little. But there was only so much room in her head.

I wonder if he'd understand about Spike. I wonder if he'd think it was a good thing. He would, wouldn't he? I mean, Spike looks out for me, Spike cares about me. Oz would want that, right? He wouldn't have wanted me to go on like I did before Spike turned up. He would've hated that.

She would have hated it too. She wouldn't have seen the point of a life lived in the grief of losing the man she loved. She would have hated herself for it. When the initial shock of Oz's death wore off, she tried really hard to go back to being the old Willow. She never succeeded and she hated herself for that because she knew Oz wouldn't want it.

"Willow," Buffy whispered.

Willow's head snapped up and she let out a cry as she saw Spike slumped in a bloodied heap at the end of the hall. Pushing passed Buffy, she ran toward him, mindless of her aching leg.

"Spike," she said, sinking to the floor beside him. She rolled him over gently and swallowed a cry of horror. "Spike?"

His eyes were bruised and swollen, but he forced them open. Dried blood on his lips cracked as he attempted a smile. His "Hey, Red," was lost in a coughing fit. He pushed her back a little bit and forced himself into a sitting position.

"I'm fine," he rasped.

"You look like hell," Buffy commented with a frown.

"You too," he retorted.

"Will you quit it?" Willow snapped, as she gently pried the fabric of his shirt from his already healing stomach wound. "You might make yourself worse."

"I don't think I could get much worse, love," Spike answered, then turned his gaze to Buffy. "So what happened out there, Slayer? I heard a great big boom, but that was it. Anything I should know?"

Buffy shrugged.

"We all got out ok," she told him. "Except…"

"'Cept who?" Spike demanded. "Who didn't get out?"

"Faith," Buffy whispered.

"Faith?" Spike frowned. "What…? How'd that happen?"

"She was saving me," Willow said quietly. "The Mayor got me -"

"Got you?" Spike cried, grabbing her hands to pull her nearer. "What do you mean? Are you all right? Did the bastard hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Spike," she answered. "Faith got me out. I just hurt my leg a little in the fall. When he… dropped Faith, she hit the temple on the Hellmouth."

"Head injury," Buffy added. "There was nothing we could do," she lowered her head and there was silence before she looked up again. "How are we going to get you out of here?"

"Don't tell me Dick hasn't got a posh motor?" Spike asked.

"Probably," Willow nodded. "But I can't drive with my leg..."

"I can," Buffy said, false brightness in her voice. "I'll go see if I can find a car and you can help Spike downstairs."

When Buffy was safely out of earshot, Willow grimaced.

"If the battle didn't kill us," she confided in Spike. "Buffy's driving will."

Spike laughed gently and Willow smiled, hugging a little too tightly. But he wasn't complaining.

"You've got to be kidding me," Willow said, eyeing the bright yellow Sunnydale High school bus with trepidation.

"He had another car," Buffy said. "But I don't think we'd all fit into a four seater.

"But why would the Mayor keep a school bus?" Willow asked.

"Don't ask me to fathom the inner workings of an evil genius's mind. And don't ask me to fathom the Mayor's mind either. Come on, we need to get Spike patched up back at the mansion."

Willow had to agree with that as she turned away from the door to get Spike. He was huddled in the shadows behind the door, with a black blanket around his shoulders. Willow kneeled down in front of him with a small smile.

"You think you can run to the bus, Spike?" she asked.

"Why not?" he asked. "Only got a couple of scratches."

She rolled her eyes at his macho pride and helped him to his feet. She tugged the blanket over his head and opened the door wider. He bolted across the short distance between the door and the bus and leapt inside, yelping. Willow followed, helped him pat out a few smoking patches on his pants before following him to a seat.

"Try not to bleed on the seats, Spike," Buffy called sweetly and Spike growled in reply.

Willow nestled under Spike's arm, inhaling the warm scent of his leather coat, pleasantly surprised at Buffy's driving skills.

That is, until they lurched to a violent halt causing Willow and Spike hit the rail in front of them.

"Jesus, Slayer!" Spike yelled. "You call that driving? My mother could drive better than that and she'd never even seen a car. You - hey, what the hell are you doing?"

But Buffy wasn't listening, she was getting off the bus and Willow stood up to watch her clamber over the bodies littering the battlefield.

"Bloody hell," Spike breathed with a low whistle "You lot did all this?"

"Yeah," Willow answered distractedly as she saw Buffy stop and bend up to retrieve something.

When Buffy straightened up again, she clutched a rocket launcher. Spike turned his gaze away from the bodies to see Buffy reloading it with the spare ammunition they had attached to the straps, just in case.

"Uh, Will. Buffy doesn't have a history of blowing up sexy vampires and their gorgeous girlfriends after battle, does she?"

Willow smiled at him, the compliment making her blush. Then the fact that he wasn't joking hit her.

"Well, no," she said. "But she does have a history of being mean or running away."

"So she could be going through a mean patch," Spike nodded. "And she's waving around the heavy artillery. Why is this making me -"

But he was cut off by the sound of an explosion. Willow screeched and ducked down, feeling the bus rock a little. She sat up slowly to see Buffy drop the rocket launcher and walk back to the bus.

The Hellmouth's temple lying in an ugly pile of rubble behind her.

Buffy hadn't expected the mansion to be so quiet. But quiet it was. Silent as the grave.

She shuddered at the very thought. Helping Willow support Spike, she pushed open the door into the living room with her foot. The others turned slowly to see them enter. When Spike was dropped carefully onto the couch, Wes and Tara set about cleaning and binding his wounds as Willow fussed and comforted. Bags were piled in the corner of the room. Everyone was sporting bandages of some kind and the blood and grime had been showered from their bodies and hair.

Unable to bear the weight of anti-climax, Buffy left the room to shower, followed shortly by Willow and Spike.

The silence had not abated by the time the three returned. When the door clicked shut and they sat down, Dawn finally broke the silence.

"What now?" she asked.

"We leave Sunnydale," Buffy answered simply.

"And go where?" Dawn asked. "Would we all go to different places or would we go somewhere together?"

The idea that they would split up and go their separate ways was a horrifying thought that knocked Buffy for six. She had spent two years with these people, outside of her sister, they were her family. She had no one else. She didn't want them to split up.

"I don't want us to split up," Anya said and Buffy shot her a grateful look for voicing her thoughts. "We've spent so long together. I thought we were a family? Families stick together!"

"She's right," Doyle agreed, earning himself a grin and a kiss. "We're all we've got."

"Yeah," Andrew nodded. "So I say we stick together," he raised a hand. "Everyone in favour say aye."

And to Buffy's amazement, every hand went up and a chorus of "ayes" rang around the room. She grinned at her friends, felt relief explode inside her chest at the thought that they weren't going to leave her.

"So…" she said. "Where should we go?"

"How about Las Vegas?" Andrew suggested. "We could win big and get a condo in Florida!"

"Where the sun worshippers live," Spike replied. "Something tells me I wouldn't be happy there."

"It would really depend on what we were going to do," Wes said. "I mean, we'd need jobs, I don't think the military would agree to drop food supplies into our backyard. And there is the demon issue. Will we go on fighting them?"

"We don't have a choice," Tara said. "We know the evil's out there, I don't know about you guys, but I couldn't just ignore it."

There were murmurs and nods of agreement.

"And we can't go far," Willow pointed out. "We've only got the school bus."

"Well, how about this for a crazy idea," Doyle started. "LA. Just throwing it out there."

"LA?" Anya asked, frowning. "How is that crazy?"

"I'm getting there, Princess. Buffy, you remember that Riley guy, right?"

"Yeah," Buffy nodded.

"He said that the military would be willing to help us get back on our feet when the Sunnydale situation was dealt with, right? Kind of like a payment for saving so many civilians?"

"Yeah, he said that."

"Well, why don't we call in the favour? Go to LA and set up our own business."

"As what, exactly?" Wes asked.

"Demon hunters!" Doyle said, waving his arms. "C'mon, we're qualified. Anya here's good with the money stuff. You're book guy, Willow's the computer whizz and a witch. Tara's a witch too and I think today proved we're all good with weapons. Look, I lived in LA for a long time. There's a lot of helpless people there, what d'ya say to helping them?"

"So what you're suggesting is that we charge people to help them," Spike mused, slow grin spreading across his face. "That's genius!"

"That's a great idea!" Anya cried, grabbing hold of Doyle in a tight hug. "I always knew you only played dumb!"

"It's a little unethical," Wes pointed out. "But I suppose it wouldn't be too bad if we only charged those that came to us for help and saved those in Doyle's visions for free. It would keep a roof over our heads."

"And we'd be saving the world," Dawn added. "I think it's a cool idea. Plus, LA, think of the shoes, Buffy!"

Buffy had to admit, she was starting to warm to the idea. It meant they would all stick together and would be doing what they did best.

"And hey, I know just the place for the premises!" Anya cried. "There was this old hotel that nobody wanted. It's called the Hypy - Hyperd, no… The Hyperion, that's it. It's got loads of rooms and offices downstairs -"

"How do you know all this?" Doyle asked.

"I broke in when I had no where else to stay," she shrugged. "It's got offices too. It might be a bit possessed, but we can sort that out for the price of an Orb of Thesulac and a few herbs."

"Cool," Andrew breathed.

"So, I guess it's decided then, huh?" Willow asked. "We call in a favour from the military, buy ourselves a haunted hotel and set up shop."

"Yeah, I guess it's decided," Buffy nodded. "The military dropped one of those satellite phones with the other stuff, I'll see if I can call 'em. You guys rest and we'll get the bus loaded up this evening."

There were nods as everyone rose to leave the room, leaving Buffy rummaging around for the phone. When she found it, she called the number already installed.

"Oh, hello. Uh, this is Buffy Summers, in Sunnydale?… Yeah, the Sunnydale Situation… Look, it's over and we're looking to get out. You soldier guys made me and my friends a promise… That's the one… Well, if you don't believe me, send one of your helicopters's to check out where the old school is. The big green bits are the Mayor… What do I want? Well, we're going to set up a business in LA and we're looking to buy a hotel… Yeah, I've got one in mind. My friend said it's been empty for years… The Hyperion, that's the one…. We're leaving tonight, so if you could sort it out as soon as possible… Thanks, I always knew you military guys were underestimated… Thanks, bye."

Buffy put the phone down with a smile.

"You sorted that out quick."

She turned to grin at Wesley.

"Yeah, well, we're leaving tonight, we're gonna need a place to go as soon as possible. And I think he was scared I'd go to the media if he didn't stick to the promise. I can't believe I'm trusting Anya on this. What if this Hyperion place is falling apart?"

"Then it'll be just like home," Wes answered, tapping the wall where a chunk of plaster was missing. "Anyway, you know Anya, she's always right about property. I'm willing to bet that she went around with a tape measure, making plans about opening it up when she had the money. She probably thought it would be a good little earner."

"You're right. And if it's a hotel, it means we've all got a place to stay."

"And I won't have to share with Andrew. I won't, will I? Even if there's only one room, for the love of God, don't make me share with Andrew."

"Well, if you've got no where else to go, you can always share with me," Buffy said.

"Then I hope for my sake that the place is falling down," Wes grinned, turning to leave Buffy to her surprise and blushes.

"You know, I bet you don't even remember where this hotel is," Wes said to Anya who was running around looking for her hair brush.

"Of course I do!" she retorted. "It's a great big building, not an itty bitty hair brush!"

Wes rolled his eyes and left Anya to her search, bumping into Dawn in the hallway.

"Why are you bouncing?" he asked her.

"Because the general person of the military just called Buffy. He said that they've bought the Hyperion and it's all in Buffy's name. But there's like this whole clause about the media. So if Buffy goes on Oprah to talk about what happened here, they're gonna take the hotel away. Good job Buffy doesn't like Oprah, huh?"

"Yes," Wes nodded. "I guess it is. Finished packing?"

"Yep, just helping to load up the bus now. Hey, go tell Buffy to pack. She hasn't touched her stuff yet."

He nodded, stepped aside to let Dawn scurry past and knocked on Buffy's door.

"Come in."

He entered the room and was knocked backwards into the wall. He tugged on Buffy's arms in an effort to clear his airway; she let him go with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, got a little bit excited," she said. "But, Wes, they bought the hotel! It's in my name! I own property!"

"So I heard," he nodded. "I'm here to ask you not to go on Jerry Springer."

"Huh?"

"The clause about the media."

"Oh right. But I wouldn't do that, it's not like anyone would believe me."

"True. You do have the look of a mad woman."

"Listen, buster," she said, shooting him a mock glare. "You're not super strong anymore, remember?"

"I know," he answered ruefully.

"Oh yeah, did Doyle talk to you? About the whole kissing Anya thing?"

"He did," Wes nodded. "It was all very manly. He said he'd hit me if I did it again, but he knows I won't. Between you and me, I doubt he hits very hard anyway."

Buffy chuckled.

"So you're not going to kiss her again? Anya, I mean."

"Nope. For one thing, I don't like Anya like that. She's very attractive, don't get me wrong, but she's not for me. And she's got Doyle. So, alas, I remain alone."

"Wait 'til we get to LA, bet you won't be alone for long."

"But there'd still be a problem."

"What problem?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to make you jealous, would I?"

He grinned at her and she frowned.

"Why do I get the impression that you're flirting with me?" she asked.

His grin faded and he reverted to the awkward Wes of a couple of years go immediately. Woah, Buffy thought, nought to nerd in under three seconds.

"Maybe because I am," he shrugged, though kept his head bowed, "Sorry."

"Don't be," she answered impulsively, grabbing his arm when he made to leave. "I… I like it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If I didn't, I would've hit you by now."

"That's true," he hesitated for a moment, before he glanced at the hand still on his arm. She started to pull away, but he took her hand and pulled her closer. She tilted her head back, tiptoeing a little as he bent forward.

"Buffy, are you done yet?" Dawn asked, bounding into the room.

"Uh, yeah," Buffy answered, stepping back from Wesley.

But Dawn didn't notice, merely grabbed her sweater and left.

"You ought to pack," Wes said, turning to leave.

"No way," Buffy answered. "Have you any idea how out of fashion all this is," she grabbed a sweater and tossed it to one side with a grimace. "I'll have to get new stuff," she smiled shyly. "And you'll have to help me."

"I will?" he asked.

"Yes!"

He grinned at her and started to leave. But she grabbed a hold of him again, yanking him back into her arms to plant a swift kiss on his lips.

"This would be when Dawn comes in again," he whispered, his breath over her lips sending a shiver down her spine.

"My sister has no sense of timing," Buffy answered. "So I guess we'll have to pick this up in LA."

He pulled back from her, nodding.

"It's a deal," he agreed, going to the door.

"Wes?" Buffy called, he glanced over his shoulder, as she continued. "I've got dibs on the left side of the bed."

"Good job I prefer the right," he answered and the left the room.

Buffy smiled and sank down onto her bed with a happy giggle.

Faith's grave was a mound of earth at the end of the row of graves marked by crosses. Andrew handed Buffy the cross he had put together and Buffy pressed it into the ground. The name was scrawled across it untidily, but it was the thought that counted.

"I can't believe we're leaving them," Dawn whispered.

"We're not," Willow answered, eyes shining as she stared at Oz's grave. Spike's arm tightened around her in reassurance as she went on. "They never left us. They're always here, Dawnie. You don't have to worry about that."

Buffy sniffed as she placed a hand on her mother's grave. She straightened up to hug her sister, feeling Wes's arm wind around her waist.

"She's right," Buffy said. "They wouldn't want us to stay here. They'd be coming along."

"I know," Dawn nodded.

They stood in silence for a time, saying silent goodbyes to their friends. They turned at some unspoken word and walked slowly back to the bus. Anya tucked safely under Doyle's arm, Spike's arm around Willow who held Tara's hand. Dawn was leaning on Andrew and pretended - with a small smile - not to notice the gentle kiss Wes dropped on her sister's head.

Nobody looked back as Doyle drove them away from the Summers' house.

It was dark when they reached LA and after an argument about directions between Anya and Doyle, they reached what to be their new home. They piled out and stared up at the huge hotel as a soldier stepped out from the shadows.

"Is one of you Buffy Summers?" he asked.

"That's me," Buffy said, stepping forward.

"Graham," he introduced himself. "I'd like to congratulate you on a fine job in Sunnydale. We sent a team out to clear up. You did a good job."

"I had a lot of help," Buffy answered, glancing at her friends.

"Well, here's the keys. There was a Thesulac demon in residence, but we cleared it out. The electricity and water's all on. It's ready to go."

"Wow, you people work fast."

"It's our job, ma'am. Can I ask, why'd you want this place?"

"I had it on good authority that this would be the perfect place for our business."

"She means I told her," Anya called over.

"What kinda business you setting up?" Graham asked.

"We're helping the helpless of Los Angeles," Andrew said enthusiastically, miming a punch. "Kicking demon butt and saving the damsels in distress!"

"Uh-huh," Graham answered, nodding at Andrew's one man show. "Well, good luck with that."

He nodded to Buffy and to the group before walking past them and out onto the street. Dawn grabbed the keys from Buffy and ran across the courtyard to the front doors. She swung them open with a flourish and sought the light switch. The lights flickered on and she gasped.

"This is so cool!" she proclaimed as the others followed her inside.

"Coming?" Wes asked.

"Give me a minute?" she replied.

"Of course," he nodded and went inside, laughing at Andrew's attempts to tap dance on the marble floor.

Buffy took a deep breath and sighed.

"And, honey? Try not to get kicked out?"

"Well, we could grind our enemies into talcum powder with a sledgehammer, but, gosh, we did that last night!"

"You would look way 007 in a tux…"

"We attack the Mayor with humus."

"I love you. I try not to, but I can't stop."

"And I myself will be wearing pink taffeta as chenille would not go with my complexion. Can we please talk about the Ascension?"

"We're Slayers, B. The Chosen Two."

As the final voice echoed through her mind, Buffy smiled. Because Willow had been right. She hadn't lost any of them.

She remembered the scent of her mother's hair, the way Xander would crack into a goofy grin. She could draw Oz's stoic, knowing expression. She could describe in detail the way Giles would frown at her. And she would never forget the way she felt when Angel told her that he loved her.

So it was all going to be ok. Because she'd never forget any of them. Ever. And she still had her family.

She stood up from the stone bench she had sat on and watched the others for a moment, skating across the floor in their socks, shrieking and laughing.

"Wrong, Faith," she whispered to the wind. "We're the Chosen Nine."

And she stood up slowly, left her grief; her guilt and pain behind her as she went into the hotel, slipped her hands into Wesley's and joined the others on the makeshift skate rink.

And suddenly, Buffy Ann Summers was no longer tired of life.

The End.