She was alone again, in the motel room. Alone, and not even trying to fall asleep. Sleep was out of the question.
She was stewing, going over the demon's words for the umpteenth time.
"Your choice, Buffy. We could hear your wail through dimensional barriers. You've willingly activated the link between Arash Ma'har and your own pitiful world, Slayer, and I came."
"Uh, that's great. Now go away, please, before Mr. Pointy accidentally finds his way into and through your chest."
He'd laughed. "I am no vampire, foolish girl."
"You'd be surprised how many things that'll kill."
He'd stopped laughing. "And I'd teleport before you'd have the chance to try. So, enough of the tomfoolery, already. Let's talk business."
"Business? What business? I don't deal with demons other than with the pointy side of my stake or sword."
He'd laughed again, ignoring her comments. "Silly, silly child. I'm a Justice Demon. I right wrongs. Grant wishes, in a sense. Now, is there something you'd like to ask me?"
She growled and walked to the door, determined to find Xander and throttle him for daring to put that talisman in her room. Her hand on the knob, Buffy paused.
What would be the harm in such an experiment? The world was safe. The Hellmouth in Cleveland had its guardians. It could wait.
No, not an experiment! This stuff is serious. You, of all people, should know.
Because that was in essence his offer, right? D'Hoffryn offered to make her deepest desire come true. He offered to grant a wish from the bottom of her heart. And she knew what that was.
But don't you remember what it had been like? Forced back into the flesh, into this cruel world, this life…
She wouldn't wish that experience on her worst enemy, much less…
No, he deserved to rest. Rationally, she knew that. He'd suffered enough and more than deserved his final reward. And this was no way to spend her life, pining and denying and getting drunk…
"I think I'm sobering up. It's horrible." Well, she had to agree. Horrible to be sober. But now wasn't the time to be drunk. After she'd thought everything through, sure…
He'd wanted her to move on. He'd said as much. He'd wanted her to find happiness in this bright, shiny world. He'd wanted her to be happy.
But try as hard as she could, Buffy hadn't been able to find that happiness. She hadn't been able to move on. She was miserable, and only became more miserable as time passed.
What was that someone had once said? About her first boyfriend, about how she got herself in bad relationships because she enjoyed misery? Who'd said that?
Oh yeah. The fourth guy she slept with.
Well, had he been right? Was she really that masochistic?
And don't forget selfish.
She was actually thinking about indulging herself once again and using him the way she'd sworn again and again never to.
I'm so damned conceited. So f—ing selfish. A conceited, selfish, bitchy slut.
Buffy smiled. If he was here, he'd smack her upside the head and tell her to snap out of it. No, that had been the old him. The old him that she had traded insults and bantered with, that she had loved to dance with. Ah yes, their dance.
Before the soul…
She didn't like the soul, to tell the truth. Sure, she'd made it plain that she could never get involved with a soulless monster, but even she hadn't known what she'd wanted then. Now she did…right?
She'd had feelings before the soul restoration. Had feelings and suppressed them, because of course little Miss Goody Two-Shoes couldn't fall in love with a demon. Because that would be wrong and all her little friends would have condemned her. Never mind the fact that the friend that would have been the most vocal had been dating an ex-demon at the time. But of course that was different.
She blamed the soul, really. She wished that she could get her hands on that demon down in Africa and wring his neck for giving it back to him. Never mind that she'd never have admitted the feelings she had without it. Never mind the fact that she would probably have staked him if he'd dared to show up without it. Or if she didn't then definitely one of the others. Probably Dawn.
But never mind all that. She didn't like the soul, period. After all, it was what had killed him, right? That damned soul, that horrible, horrible soul…
It was dusk. Dawn was still out, listening to her sister's requests for once.
And all alone in the dark, mentally spent from arguing with herself, the Slayer wept.
***
Buffy awoke, her face all tight and funny-feeling because she hadn't bothered to wipe away the tears before she'd cried herself to sleep.
That didn't matter now. Nothing did. Her mind was made up.
God help her, her mind was made up.
Always the selfish one.
Buffy clutched the small trinket. Talisman, whatever. She squeezed her eyes tight and called for D'Hoffryn.
A moment and a flash of light later, the ancient demon stood gazing at her with a disturbing intelligence in his shiny black eyes.
"I've decided."
She'd expected the demon to ask her exactly what it was she'd decided. But the next thing the Slayer knew, she staring at the lid of a box. A very tight and cramped box. And she was staring at the cover from the wrong side.
Was it just her, or was it getting kinda hard to breathe?
Slowly, very slowly, Buffy realized where she was.
And she screamed.
***
Oh, God. She was here again. The place that only occasionally plagued her nightmares in the past year, mainly because of the other, more horrible, things she dreamed about.
But it was still as terrifying as ever. More so than usual, because this wasn't a dream. This was real.
All thoughts of wishes and vengeance demons went out of her head as the Slayer pounded against the lid of her coffin.
Her screams were lessening in frequency. Air was running out. Buffy hit the lid over and over again, but the lack of oxygen was making her limbs stiff. The pounding was becoming weaker and weaker, and the frequency was becoming slower and slower.
No, not like this! Not again.
With that, the Slayer rammed her fist up and up, as hard as she could.
A shower of dirt spilled all over her face.
Yes!
She was getting somewhere. Taking a deep breath, she began to pull the shattered coffin boards apart and push her way through the soft, damp earth.
***
She stood there, just like that night so long ago, clad only in a thin black dress and heels too high to walk comfortably in. She'd never liked those shoes. They pinched her feet. But it wasn't like they could bury her in her favorite slaying boots, leather pants, and a halter top. Preferably with a coat, too. It was kinda cold. But it wasn't like they could've done that.
Well, they should've. Then I wouldn't be limping around and freezing to death…again.
The question seeped through her mind again. Finding herself in that coffin again, she'd forgotten for a moment in the ensuing panic to wonder exactly why she was here. Why was she suddenly in Sunnydale? In the cemetery?
In a grave?
Why would D'Hoffryn send her here? He'd tricked her, that was it! He said that he dealt out justice and granted wishes. Well, was it justice for her to relive the worst year of her life?
Probably.
The moisture welled up in her eyes before she could help it. Buffy had just realized the implications of the situation. She'd thought that he'd be back. She'd thought that was what D'Hoffryn was going to do. No matter. She had to get out of here, one way or another. She had to find that demon and…
Her hands felt wet. But she hadn't yet wiped away the tears threatening to fall. Back to her surroundings.
The cemetery was blurry. Hell, everything was blurry, and not just because of her tears. The Slayer knew the direction of the gates and headed that way, treading carefully on the bumpy, uneven ground in her stilettos. But there was something wrong. More wrong than usual, that is. What were all those swathes of red everywhere, dancing and licking and…
The flames. God, how could I have forgotten them? All those flashes of red, the sirens…no wonder I thought I'd ended up in hell.
Her vision was slowly, very slowly, beginning to clear. And so was her hearing, to Buffy's chagrin. The sirens became louder. The mayhem became more defined. And…were those the rumbles of…
The motorcycle gang. In the midst of their rampaging and looting, no doubt. And of course, she, the Slayer, was supposed to be stopping them. With a grimace, Buffy headed toward the source of the loud, loud engines.
She stopped. There they were, the motorcycle demons, surrounded by what seemed to be a fiery inferno. They were circling…what were they circling? What was the dazed figure in their midst?
The Buffybot. It's the Buffybot. Get a grip, you've seen this before.
But try as she did, the Slayer couldn't force down the lingering thought that it was her being tied to the motorcycles, her being torn apart.
Okay, time out for a sec. Am I really that masochistic? Why the hell would I want to re-witness this fun, fun event?
This is just D'Hoffryn's little joke. It'd better be. Does he really hate me that much? I haven't even tried to kill him that many times.
She turned away from the scene in disgust as the bikes tore off in different directions…and Buffybot's limbs followed. The Slayer didn't see the robot's eyes widen at the last moment and the sudden bright smile that flashed across its face as it stared at her.
At least I didn't scream this time.
Buffy took a deep breath and turned around, heading away, forcing herself not to look back. If she did, Buffy knew there was no way she could hold the scream that would erupt from seeing her own torso bounce on the hard pavement.
I need to get to the house. Possibly change my clothes. Then find Willow, get her to summon that double-crossing demon. And after I get back to where I'm supposed to be, I'll gut him and hang his innards on a clothesline…
Who am I kidding? I don't want to do any of that. I just want to go back to sleep. One way or another.
But that was no way to think. She'd promised to live in this world. Bu then again, this wasn't exactly her world anymore…
No matter. She was the Slayer…a Slayer, at least…, not someone who easily gave up. She would find D'Hoffryn and make him pay.
The chilly October breeze blew right through her thin black crêpe dress. Her brittle heels clicked on the hard pavement with no conscious destination in mind. She needed to organize her thoughts.
Okay, I need to think. Last time, last time. What did I do last time?
Well, for one thing, I got the attention of those demons on the hogs. Eventually met my so-called friends in an alley in time to save their asses from the demons that tailed me. No such problem this time.
Where did I go after that? What did I do?
The Slayer was terrified when she realized she didn't remember. It was like something was preventing her from remembering. A mental block, hiding something she never wanted to remember again.
Vaguely, as she tried to dig up buried memories, Buffy realized that her hands were raw and bloody, grasping steel and moving in front of her body. Up and up, right, left, right, left, right…
Her painfully tight shoes with her feet strapped in them like prisoners tied to racks were also moving. Up and up, left, right, left, right, left…
Where am I going? What am I doing?
The last rung of some sort of ladder. Buffy awoke from her daze and looked around, unable to repress a sudden smile.
The tower. Why, of course. The long climb up to the narrow platform.
Leading to salvation. Or to rest, at least. Some sort of respite from life. Probably a one-way ticket to hell, but really, how bad could it be? At least she'd be free of this…life.
Without realizing it, the Slayer stood at the edge. The very edge of the creaking, shaking platform. She closed her eyes, imagined all those she loved, waiting for her. She'd tried to keep her promises, but she was just so tired. And it would be so easy…
One step, just one small step.
And then I'll be free.
"Buffy?"
She frowned and opened her eyes. The voice came from behind. If Buffy didn't know better, she would've sworn that it belong to—
But no, of course not. There was no cold malice, no spite, in that voice. No teenage defiance or rebelliousness. It couldn't possibly belong to her sister.
"Buffy."
The Slayer turned around.
Dawn, standing at the edge of the stairs, staring at her with a mix of shock and joy. Yes, her sister. Her sweet kid sis, before time and experience had turned her cold from the inside out. Even though she had suffered so much, the teen still had not yet been forced to grow up too quickly.
Buffy stared apprehensively at her.
"Buffy…how...?"
The Slayer frowned at her in confusion. Dawn was sincere. Nothing but amazement in her voice. Never thinking of asking her what she was doing here, where she had been. How it was possible that the sister she had buried more than four months ago had just appeared at the scene of death.
"Is it you? I mean really?" The girl smiled tentatively and took a step forward. "What are you do—"
The tower creaked and shuddered. Dawn grabbed the pole beside her for support and tried not to look down.
What does it matter? It'll be worse if I don't end it. When the First rises because I won't stay dead.
Buffy turned toward the edge once more.
"No!"
The Slayer looked down at the ground below. So far, so empty. Such a long drop.
"Don't!"
She turned back to Dawn.
"Don't jump, Buffy! Don't move! Just walk to me. Please," she begged.
Dawnie, I should. I'm so tired. And besides, it'll be better this way. You'll see—well, no you won't, not if I do it right.
The Slayer turned back to the edge and stared down once more. She could almost see herself lying there, peaceful, at rest. If she was lucky, maybe she'll even end up with him…
"Please?"
The tower wobbled, shook.
"I'm your sister. Dawn. We were up here...together, and then...you went away. And you don't wanna do that again. I don't know how you're back, but you are, and please, just stay still."
You don't have to explain it to me again, Dawnie. I'm not disoriented from just being torn out of Heaven.
Not this time.
The tower shook again, harder than before. The teen shrieked.
"Or-or move. But-but towards me. Because the tower was built by crazy people and I don't think it's holding up very well."
Buffy didn't answer.
"Talk to me. Say something!"
The tower creaked again, veritably swayed in the breeze.
"We have to get off this tower!"
Yeah, she should. I promised Mom that I'd take care of Dawn.
"Buffy, please, listen to me. You told me I had to be strong...and I've tried. But it's been so hard without you."
Welcome to the club, Dawnie.
"I'm sorry. I promise I'll do better. I will! If you're with me. Stay with me...please. I need you to live. Live! For—"
The tower wobbled, hard. Dawn screamed and crouched down. Pieces of the tower began to crumble and fall off.
Despite an almost overpowering desire to step off the structure, Buffy turned around. She knew what Dawn was feeling because she'd felt it herself. She was feeling it right now.
"Buffy!"
"Dawn," she whispered.
Don't worry, Mom. I'll keep my promise, for now. I'll keep Dawn safe.
"Buffy!"
"Dawn!"
She ran across the platform to her baby sister and pulled her up and into the body of the tower. Together they ran around one bend, then the Slayer paused and looked around.
There was a pulley with a rope going through it, hanging oh-so-conveniently.
Just like last time.
Buffy held onto Dawn tightly and leapt off the tower, snatching the rope in midair. They hung there for a moment, swinging gently. Then the rope slid through the pulley and they plummeted downward.
Dawn screamed.
The Slayer glanced up at the rope. It was moving through the rusted pulley so quickly that smoke was rising into the chilly air. And was that a bolt coming loose?
She knew what was next. So the Slayer braced herself as the rope caught and the two sisters became suspended in midair. They both stared at the ground, still a very long way off.
Buffy was prepared as the bolt holding the pulley snapped in two. Tucking her body and positioning the teen so that they would land safely, they dropped onto a pile of cardboard conveniently placed in a soft and rather mushy mound.
Without wasting time to take a breath, the Slayer grabbed her sister and rolled away to a position several yards away, ignoring the teen's baffled looks and questions.
Two seconds later, the platform landed with a thud on the very ground where they had rested. And then the entire tower crumbled and fell to the earth in a cloud of dust.
Good. That thing should've been demolished ages ago.
"Buffy?"
The tentative voice snapped her from her thoughts. Buffy glanced at Dawn apprehensively. The teen merely smiled in disbelief.
"Buffy. You...you...you're really here."
Suddenly enveloped in a hug, the Slayer yielded completely to the tears. They mixed with the other girl's as they trailed wet tracks to the ground.
"You're alive, and you're home. You're home."
***
She buttoned the shirt, ignoring the cries of protest from her still-bloody hands. She'd been through worse; this wasn't anything to bother Dawn over.
"Buffy? We can...we can sit down and talk."
She gave a start, not noticing the girl that had just entered the room.
Dawn's eyes trailed to her half-buttoned blouse, then to her hands.
"Oh! Ow."
The Slayer evaded her sister as the teen reached to touch her hands. Somewhere downstairs a door opened. Buffy used that as a distraction to pull away completely and head out of the room.
"What's that?" she asked. Anything so that her sister wouldn't touch her hands or ask her what had happened and where she had come from.
"It's okay. It's okay," Dawn soothed.
No, not really. It'll never be okay. But I can't talk about that now. Especially not now. You don't even know what's going on. What's happened…or is yet to happen, I guess.
"Dawn! Dawn! Are you there?"
Her heart skipped a beat. The Slayer stood frozen in the hallway, staring into nothing.
No. It couldn't be.
A voice she'd only heard in her dreams for the past three months.
"It-it's just Spike," her sister explained patiently. "I'm here!" The girl started down the stairs.
The Slayer was still frozen in shock. But a slow smile began to spread across her visage.
This is it. I guess I did know what I really wanted.
Downstairs, the door slammed.
A fresh beginning.
"Thank God! You scared me half to death...or more to death. You—I could kill you."
The Slayer shook herself out of her reverie and walked slowly down the steps after her baby sister.
"Spike," Dawn said hesitantly. The girl had reached the bottom.
"I mean it. I could rip your head off one-handed and drink from your brain stem."
"Look." She pointed up, up at the Slayer.
That was Buffy's cue. She walked down, still somewhat in a daze. Unable to believe her eyes. Drinking up the image before her.
"Yeah? I've seen the bloody bot before. Didn't think she'd patch up so—"
Buffy swallowed. She wanted to say something. But like in those damned nightmares, her throat had closed up. And she was drowning again.
Drowning in blue eyes.
TBC