When they finished eating breakfast, it hit Buffy that there was nothing left to procrastinate with. Which meant that she'd have to face the monumental task of rallying the people of the valley around them.
But the only problem was that she wasn't quite sure how to go about it.
She sat by their now-extinguished fire, curled up at Angel's side again. She looked up at him, and could tell that he was thinking exactly the same thing. She could practically hear the gears working in his brain.
She waited for him to say something, anything, but when he stayed silent, she jumped up. "Okay, well, I'm gonna go talk to Matt and his dad. See who's in charge here. Wanna come?"
Angel frowned. "Buffy, I don't know about this Matt kid. Have you seen the way he looks at you? It's like he's got a crush on you or something."
Though the possibility was a very real one, Buffy purposefully ignored it. She didn't even want to think about it. Mainly because it would create so many more problems for her. Besides, Matt was just so young. Sure, in actuality, he was only a couple of years younger, but Buffy could tell that he was still a child inside. Whereas she had lost what little of her childhood she'd had early in life, when she'd been Called.
She forced a smile. "Well, I'm going over there, and you can either come with me or not. Whichever you prefer." She said sunnily. Angel's frown only deepened.
"I'll come with you. We're in this together. And besides, I don't want that kid to try anything." He rumbled. Buffy looked at him. He was forced to admit that Buffy was more than capable of defending herself. At least to himself. He would never tell that to her. And his protective instinct wasn't listening, either, and told him to follow her wherever she went, and make sure she came to no harm.
She kissed him lightly. "You're so cute when you're overprotective." Angel growled.
Buffy smiled and grabbed his hand. "I thought we got rid of that habit when you turned human."
"Some things never change."
"Like your jealous streak?" She teased gently as she led him back towards the Millers' campground.
Matt saw them long before they got there, and was standing with his hands on his hips, waiting. There was a glint in his eye. Angel didn't like it, but he knew that once Buffy had her mind made up, there was no way he was going to change it. So he followed along without complaint. Well, if without complaint excluded the momentous glower on his face.
Buffy, used to her boyfriend's behavior, charged on with a sunny smile on her face and Angel's hand in a death grip as she dragged him along.
She stopped in front of Matt, Angel looming like a dark and vengeful cloud over her shoulder, and spoke. "Hey, um, Matt, is your dad around?"
Matt nodded sharply. "Over there," he said tersely. If Buffy had to guess, his manner probably had something to do with Angel and the angry look pasted permanently to his face.
She smiled in thanks, and then dragged Angel over to another campsite, where Jacob Miller was sitting on a picnic table under an awning, talking with several other parent-aged people.
Silence fell when they noticed Buffy and Angel approaching. Mr. Miller seemed to be trying really hard to be welcoming, but Buffy noted that he was failing miserably. There was a hard look in his eye that said they'd interrupted something important.
There was a woman there, who looked to be in her early thirties, and two other men, who appeared to be brothers. Buffy surveyed them carefully. None of them looked like fighters. In fact, they looked like your quintessential soccer moms and dads. Totally unsuited to lead one of the last few surviving colonies of humans on Earth. Especially one that was under constant attack from opportunistic vampires and various other creatures of the night.
Buffy thinned her lips as she thought about what to do. Surely they wouldn't just step down to her. She was only twenty-two. Not fit, in their eyes, to lead. Angel, on the other hand, might have a chance. He looked young and fit, but his eyes were so wise that no one could mistake him for a child. He had the air of one who knew what he was doing, all the time.
Neither party said anything. Buffy knew they were sizing her up, and she shifted uncomfortably. Angel, seizing his chance to rescue her from herself, spoke up. "I'm sure you've all heard by now that there was an attack last night. A woman was nearly killed by a vampire."
Eyes widened in disbelief, but they still did not speak. Angel thought it rather odd that they'd survived the end of the world by fire and demons and still refused to believe in vampires. "Yes, a vampire. Honestly, is it so hard to believe? After what you've gone through? After what we've all gone through?"
He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and arranging his speech in his mind, before continuing. "Buffy and I were sent here to help. We died during the apocalypse, but the Powers That Be saw fit to resurrect us. They directed us here, to you. Their messenger told us that we were supposed to take you all to L.A. There we would meet up with the Oracles, who would tell us what to do next. Most likely go to meet other people who survived. If civilization is to rebuild itself, it must be unified. Do you understand?"
There were a few disbelieving stares, but they didn't hold raw shock. Instead of looking like they'd had cold water splashed in their faces, the other people there were just tiredly skeptical. Even with all that had happened, it was hard for them to just let go of everything they'd known.
Finally, Mr. Miller said, "Why should we believe you?"
Angel nodded at Buffy. Buffy leaned down, picked up a good-sized rock, and crushed it. "I'm the Slayer," she explained. "It was...it is my job to hunt vampires and demons."
Mr. Miller nodded, satisfied. But the woman spoke up. "Then it's your fault the world ended. My husband was eaten alive by one of these demons. One of these demons that it was your job to protect us against! If what you say is true, then all of this is your fault!! How dare you come and expect to lead us when it was your failure that landed all of us here in the first place?!? Do you have any idea how many people must be dead by now? Are still dying?" The woman had rapidly gotten hysterical, her voice rising in pitch until she was shrieking. Buffy had gone pale as a sheet.
One of the two brothers clamped a hand on her arm. "Denise. Calm down," he said authoritatively. Mr. Miller looked at them apologetically.
"I'm sorry. She's been hit pretty hard by all of this. We all have. So...do you think you could tone it down a notch? We're not ready for saviors or Oracles or anything. We just need time to pull ourselves together."
Buffy was about to fall apart. Angel could just tell. To another, she might have just looked slightly pale. He, on the other hand, noticed the slight tremble of her lips, the way her hand was sweaty in his, the way she was clutching at him tightly. But he couldn't let this go. Not yet.
"We don't have time. I assume that you four are the leaders here. Fine. All we ask for is a chance to talk to these people. It's not safe here anymore. The vampires that have been attacking are multiplying. The longer you wait, the more people will die. Please, just give us a chance."
Mr. Miller looked at the other three. Denise was still blotchy with anger. The brother that had grabbed her before was now standing slightly behind her. The other one was still seated, and looking as calm as ever. He nodded, just once, affirmatively.
Mr. Miller looked up at them. "Alright. We'll talk to people. Give you a chance. But I can't guarantee anything. We won't force them to listen to you if they don't want to. And I don't think they will." He shrugged. "But as I said, we'll try." He looked at Buffy who was shaking visibly. "You should take her back to your camp. She's not looking too well." Angel looked reluctant. Mr. Miller nodded reassuringly. "We'll let you know when they've decided."
Smiling forcedly and painfully, Angel stroked the back of Buffy's hand with his thumb as he led her away. He had no idea how he was going to repair the damage that woman had wrought with her hateful words. He knew that Buffy considered the apocalypse her fault. He'd only just barely convinced her to let it go. But to have someone else blaming her outright for it was more than her noble heart could stand. Angel knew he was going to have to have a talk with this Denise woman.
But for now, he had to keep Buffy from falling apart. She'd been pushed to the edge the past few months, and she'd finally reached her breaking point. And now it was Angel's job to catch her as she fell.
He gently sat her down amid the various sleeping bags, blankets, and pillows that formed a sort of nest. Their 'bed'. Her lower lip trembled. "They're right, you know." She said.
Angel, who had been expecting this, said, "No, she's not. She was angry, Buffy. She needed someone to lash out at. She said herself that she lost her husband. Your unwitting admission to being the Slayer made you the perfect target."
"I should've stopped it." She said, her voice gaining strength. Her lower lip stopped trembling, but there was a coldness to her eyes that told him that she'd just shut down. She never used to do this. Never so completely. He brought a hand to her face, wondering sadly why she'd acquired this habit. Even though part of him knew that it was his fault for leaving her.
"No, Buffy. If anyone should have stopped it, it would be me. I was the one who was there. I knew about it. And I failed."
"It's not your job to stop the apocalypse. It's mine. And since the world ended, I guess that means I failed." Angel started to protest. She held up her hand to silence him. "You were only helping because you felt you were obligated. You were Angelus before you were Angel, and you'd done bad things you needed to atone for. The super-strength helped you there."
"Buffy, where are you going with this?" Angel asked warily.
"Let me finish. This has helped me to figure some stuff out, important stuff. Stuff that's gonna affect us both. You're not a vampire anymore. You don't have super-strength or healing, and you're not obligated to help save the world. The only reason you are even here is because I am. And it's putting you in danger. Every second you're near me, you're in danger. That's always been true. The only difference is, now you're human, and you can't defend yourself. And I won't always be there."
"Buffy, what are you saying?" Angel asked, praying that it wasn't what he thought. It couldn't be. Not after all they'd been through together. She meant too much for this to be happening.
"I don't think you should be around me anymore." Angel had had a hundred reasons, defenses, ready for what he'd thought was coming. But once she'd said the words, everything left him. He could only stare in mute agony. Pain. Painpainpainpainpain. Stop...no..come back. He felt like liquid fire was ripping him apart from the inside. His heart was contracting so painfully that he was sure he would die. Funny, he'd skipped out on that experience the last time.
He loved her so much. The first time he'd realized that, it was like a flood had been released, and he knew that there would never be any hope of getting it back. But she'd always made him fill full. Whole. Loved. And now she was taking that away, and everything inside just felt empty.
"Buffy, no." He whispered, voice thick with emotion. Need to die...can't be without her...need to die. Hurts too much.
She nodded woodenly. "I'm sorry, Angel. I love you, but this is the way it has to be. For both of us. I'll get my things."
Angel sat down on the ground. His fingernails bit into his palms as he clenched his hands in an attempt not to cry. No. This wasn't the end, he kept telling himself. She was just very emotional right now. Things would get better. They would go back to normal. This wasn't the end.
The part of his brain attuned to breathing, the part that had only recently reawoken, seemed to have disappeared, leaving him to consciously drag in each breath. Each harsh, painful rush of air that scalded his throat and burned his lungs. God, he wanted to die. Stop breathing. No more pain. Buffy, I love you. I hate you. How could you do this to me...
He stared numbly at the blood running down his hands as a result of his sharp nails. He breathed in heavily.
Not the end. Not the end. Not the end...