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A/N- This is dedicated to Balloonphobia for actually asking for a cookie and making me laugh, and to HoneyB for growling at me for an update. It was really motivating, and thank them for this update. :P

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CHAPTER TWELVE

Buffy looked on at her companion indignantly. "No," she said simply, leaving no room for argument. She was the Princess of Buffonia, and when things weren't open for argument, they weren't open for argument. She wasn't having a good day to begin with (although it had its high points), but this annoyance was even worse than lunching with William. Her Angel was just as stubborn as she was, and she knew he wouldn't budge in his argument. She was tired, having not slept well the night before, and even when she did sleep her mind was plagued with the strange dreams.

"No," she repeated, rubbing her forehead, trying to soothe the tension away.

Angel stared at her, her tone having no effect on him. He was immune to her, and he was probably the only one in the kingdom who could truthfully say so.

"Yes. You're going," Angel said simply.

"No."

"Yes," he repeated.

"No! It's crazy, Angel! Insane! It's not real! IT'S NOT REAL! Okay, just DROP IT!" she yelled at him, her face reddening from the effort. She sighed, and sat down on the bed, her manner like a balloon that had been relieved of all its air.

Angel softened when he saw her manner; her tired expression tugged at his heart and made him feel sorry for arguing with her. But it had to be done. It had to. Giles had said that the 'fate of the world' rested on her shoulders. She needed to accept her calling. She needed to train.

She needed to see Giles.

This was where Angel was having problems. Buffy wasn't moving. They were supposed to be at Giles' cottage over an hour ago. Giles had gone to the queen and asked that Elizabeth come down to the village everyday, under the guise of learning about the Buffonian Royal Army for her future stint as queen. The Queen had obliged willingly, for she wanted her daughter to be as prepared as possible when she took the throne. Although Joyce had assented to the fact that Elizabeth's reign would not be for many years, she believed it was better off being prepared.

With her mother out of the way, Giles believed there was nothing standing between him and his Slayer. Angel snorted in frustration. "Well, that would be the case, if not for the fact she DOESN'T believe in her 'destiny' that you talked about so much!" he wanted to yell at the older man. Since Giles was nowhere to be found at the moment, it just came out as an angry sigh.

"Look Buffy, I don't know what to believe. You saw that… thing in dark. That... vampire. You saw his face, you saw him turn to dust. I'm having a hard time believing this too. A man doesn't just explode into dust! It wasn't a man! I know it, Giles knows it, and you know it, but you just don't want to admit it!" he said, his voice rising until he was yelling at her.

Buffy flinched away as though she had been hit. Angel was immediately contrite, but she didn't give him the chance to apologize.

"You know what, Angel? You're right! I don't like this! It's scaring me to death! I haven't slept in days! I dreamed of those men, I saw what they can do! And I'm scared. Every single girl in the dream died, Angel! They were all so frightened, so afraid of the... things that were chasing them. They all ran as fast as they could, but they never got away. I saw every one of them die! I saw the looks on their faces! You didn't! So don't you dare say that this is 'hard for you'!" she yelled, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Buffy… I'm sor-" Angel tried to say, but was cut off.

"No. Don't. Just... just go. Please, Liam. Leave me alone," she said, a stern tone coloring her voice. Angel knew that she was serious- she had stopped yelling and had called him by his name.

"Yes, Princess," he said shortly, moving to exit the room, a hurt look taking residence of his features. He walked out of the room slowly, without looking at her, but he stopped at the door. His back still turned, he said softly,

"I am sorry, Buffy."

He left the room and walked down the stone corridor, pretending to admire the rich tapestries that adorned the wall. He wasn't really looking at the wall hangings; he was replaying the conversation in his mind, word by word, every look of pain on his love's face.

He looked back at the doorway that was becoming farther and farther away with every step, seriously debating whether to turn around and go back to Buffy. He sighed, making his decision, and continued walking. They'd sort this out later. Now he had to report to Giles. Everything would be okay. Everything would be okay, he repeated to himself. It would. Right?

Buffy layed on her bed, her head leaned heavily on the dark mahogany headboard. The giant four poster bed was the essence of luxury, with soft sheets dyed a maroon color. Buffy couldn't look at them right now; she shivered even at the slightest glance. The colored fabric was probably very expensive, and she could only imagine what only the dye alone had cost. But right now it reminded her too much of the blood-drenched clothing she saw too many times in her dreams.

Her tears blurred her vision as she cross her bedroom in a giant step, running to the entrance of her bedroom. She knew her Angel would be waiting right outside the door, waiting until she had finished crying to offer her comfort and maybe a few more kisses.

She opened the door slowly, giving her Angel a moment's notice of her presence. She came out her room and into the hall.

He wasn't there.

Her Angel had left her alone.

She slowly turned back into the room. She walked to her bed unseeing; numb to the chill the open window had brought in, unaware of the storm that looked like it was brewing outside. Dark clouds swirled in the sky, electricity hung in the air- air that was so thick with humidity you could cut it with a knife.

She curled up into herself, her arms protecting her body from cold. At that moment, anyone who happened to pass by her doors would have said how small she looked, how weak, how anything but the qualities that define a Slayer.

She desperately clung to consciousness, not wanting to rest only to be rocked away by a horrible dream that would make her sick. She wanted her Angel, badly, more than anything, but he wasn't there to hold her.

What had she done?

Outside, the wind blew in gusts that knocked over the merchants' carts in the market, shepherds brought their flocks in for the night, and the street was empty except for one lonely Angel, trudging his way home.

An old man read his ancient books and took complicated notes in foreign languages; a queen sat down to her loom, weaving a giant tapestry. A king and his successor sat down to a dinner of meat and expensive wine.

Inside her room, a young woman cried, burdened with a task no one should have. She was the people's protector- from every nightmare that is had in childhood, from every menace that lives in the night.

It started to rain, slowly at first, until it became a deluge that washed away the day. The sun had set, and the sky opened up and cried cold tears.

Darkness had fallen.

And the people had no hero to save them.

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END CHAPTER TWELVE

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A/N- Sorry about the long wait, and for the angst fest. Mucho thankies to anyone to reviewed last chapter-

Fi, AngelRose4, Courtenay, TK, SlayerChic503, never look back

Special thanks to HoneyB for growling. To Balloonphobia- sorry, I'm all out of donuts and cookies. I give you a cyber hug. :)

Love, d