The plan was set. Everyone knew their tasks. At least where the mission was concerned.

For Buffy, her personal ends were a different matter.

It had helped though that the First had thought of Spike as her lover. As long as it thought that way, her real love was safe.

One more sign of the stupidity that is evil, Buffy smirked. My ultimate enemy turns out to be a moron. Now I know how Bugs Bunny feels. This should be a cinch.

As Buffy began walking back to her house, or Fort Summers as Xander sometimes called it, Alexander One-Eye, she smirked, she noticed a card that Angel had slipped into her hand. It was Angel's business card but without the crudely drawn insignia that Angel had told her was supposed to be an angel. She smiled softly. He was a bit bothered that she hadn't recognized it.

Instead, this one had the title of Wolfram and Hart. Buffy made a note to ask him about this later.

So now her troops were gathered indoors. Dawn was telling stories. Giles, Xander, Anya, Andrew, and….Amanda, right? Ah, who cares. They were playing D&D.

She never understood the cartoon as a little kid. And she sure as hell didn't want to know anything about the game.

She checked her cell phone clock. It was time.

Walking a ways from her house, Buffy pulled out the card and began dialing. After a pace of fifteen steps, four rings, and six consecutive "Come on, come on"s, she heard the click of a receiver being retrieved.

"Wolfram and Hart. Angel, speaking."

She stuttered momentarily. Part of her didn't even know where to begin. "Angel, it's me."

She had expected an alertness at the sound of her voice. Instead, it just sounded tired. Buffy bristled at that.

"Buffy. Everything going all right?"

"About to be as expected, Going-Straight-to-Hell Eve," she sighed. "So have you found out anything more about the amulet?"

"Don't waste time, do you?"

"Not when I have our future to worry about. What did you find?"

There was a long drawn out pause. Buffy was scared she'd lost the line. She said his name again. In that desperate manner that was now like instinct.

"The amulet channels the power of sunlight through it creating massive amounts of destructive solar energy. Plus maybe something mystical from the soul, I dunno," Angel droned. But then the words got heavier, or his voice did, Buffy wasn't sure. "But it kills whoever is bearing its power. You're gonna sacrifice one of your own, Buffy."

Suddenly, all the weight left Buffy's shoulders. This was meant to be. I'm supposed to scacrifice Spike so Angel and I can be together. Fate is with me in this. I'm doing it right!

"It's nobody, Angel," Buffy blurted before she think of something with more tact. "I gave it to Spike."

She waited for Angel to answer her. She waited some more.

"Buffy," he said very softly. "He has a soul."

"Yeah, and? Better him than you. He's doing it for us, honey!"

"How could you be so--Buffy, it should have been me!"

"Well, if I woulda looked that tacky with it, I'd hate to imagine how you'd manage to pull it off."

"Dammit, Buffy! We're talking about premeditated killing here. Murder."

"Shut up!" she spat viciously, flinching from that word. "Shut up. It's a sacrifice and it's done. You and I will be together and it's too late for him. He made his choice."

"He did it for you, Buffy! He has no idea what's going to happen to him!" he screamed just as harshly back. Buffy shrugged it off that his voice seemed to crack and waver. She blamed it on the crappy cell phone. "He deserves that much."

"He deserves a whole hell of a lot more than that," she seethed. Spittle flew from her mouth like a rabid animal. "He got his soul. For me."

"What?"

Buffy smiled. Angel could act as righteous all he wanted, but that rivalry would always be there. It was the wound he always picked at. She was going to use a shovel.

I'm doing this for us, love. Forgive me.

"Spike hurt me in ways I can't even say out loud," she continued. "And not that it makes any difference to me. He's already damned in my eyes for what he did to me. But he got his soul to appease me. So he could be a good man, a man worth loving."

Angel said nothing for a long time. "Some would say that's admirable, Buffy."

"Yes, some would say it is," she agreed. "And therefore he's beaten you."

"This isn't a contest!"

"He's beaten you, Angel! He's…done what I can't see myself or you ever doing. But I don't care. I love you. But if you can't commit yourself to this, then I will be with him. And I will let him love me and worship me and adore me. The way that you used to. The way you still do."

"Buffy…"

"Is that what you want? To lose to him? Because he'll finally defeat the mighty Angelus. He'll get the girl. He'll get the Slayer. And Angel…" Buffy's voice became hypnotic and seductive. "This Slayer's learned some new tricks since the last time. And I might want to see him again."

"Don't even joke about that," Angel choked out. "I'd never risk that. And you should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking it."

Buffy's face grimaced in frustration. "Angel, think about where you are. You're in the most powerful evil entity in the world, hell, maybe in every dimension there fucking is. There must be some way you can lift that curse so we can be together. I held up my end with Spike. And now it's your turn."

"But Buffy, my…mission. Our missions. What would it have been for then? Everything? Doyle. Cordy. Con…

"I don't give a shit about Doyle or Cordy. He's dead. Cordy's probably doing her nails. I care about us. If you love me, you will find a way."

She heard Angel swallow something over the phone. "Is that blood?"

"No. No, it's, um, bourbon."

"Eww!"

Angel sighed. "Buffy, please. I'm…..I don't know what happened to you, but I swear I'll get you back somehow."

"I hope so," Buffy said shakily. She toughened up immediately. Cold. She would have to be cold for at least twenty-four more hours. Then she could be free to love him. "Now what will you do?"

"I …I could maybe ask one of the mystics in Wesley's…'

"Threaten them," she shrugged lightly. "They're evil."

Angel paused. "I'd be putting my friends in danger."

"What we always do. What I'm doing right now. I'm surprised you're not used to it, yet."

"Yeah." She heard Angel pouring another drink. She had no compunctions with slamming him in the head with that carafe or whatever the fuck container he had. He would not be a drunk like that pig while he was hers.

That pig who's finally setting himself up for the slaughter. How poetic.

"Angel?"

"I…I could probably muscle one of their weaker ones."

What was it Spike had quoted to her that one time from Shakespeare? After he had finished with her? Kill the lawyers?

"Make sure they don't retaliate against you. Or your gang. Send a message. Kill a lawyer."

Again, she marveled at all the ticks she thought she was hearing on the other end. Sounds like a gasp and a sob.

What the hell was with her phone?

"I can't …I can't do that, Buffy. Not ag…"

"We're in this, Angel," Buffy said with machinelike resolve. "You and me. You got yourself involved when you gave me that amulet. And now we're gonna see this through. Right to the end. You back out on me, so help me God…"

"Okay," he whispered.

"What?"

"I'm in," he gritted.

"That's my guy," she breathed with relief.

"What happened to you, Buffy Summers?"

It was such a sad question, and Buffy was about to close the cell, but she brought it back up to her ear. She spoke as tersely as she could into it.

"A lot of living, Angel. And some dying," she mumbled. Somewhat to herself.

"And Spike," Buffy added more clearly for his ears.

"I wish I would have made him pay for what he did to you. But it all changes now, Buffy. Don't you…"

"He's already paying, Angel. And I love you for it."

"We're damned," he hitched out "You know that, right?"

Buffy couldn't help but chuckle sadly. Something wet trickled down her cheek and she wiped at it annoyed. It's not even hot, and she's sweating.

But somewhere deep inside, where if she only listened she would hear the screaming grief, she knows different.

But instead she merely said, "At least we're damned together."

The Slayer ended the reception. And she began the long walk to that basement of betrayal. Back into that other's arms.

Twenty-four more hours.