Equinoxium: Chapter 30
by Lisette

Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

"Whistler," Buffy hissed as she pushed back from her seat, her rage giving her the strength to stand on limbs that shook with a weakness that would be long in leaving her abused body. With anger driving her, Buffy crossed the distance to the balance demon who was sheltered within an aged costume, his eyes widening at her furious approach. "Just give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick your ass right now," she growled as she paused before him, her shoulders straightening and her chin lifting to meet his wary gaze. Yet whatever intimidation she had gained in her strong words and proud stance was ruined as her weakened body buckled beneath the strain of far too much harm. Xander's quick arms were the only thing that prevented her from taking an embarrassing spill before a room full of strangers.

Smiling slyly, the old man nodded once as his form wavered and then melted into the small man in the hideous green suit and bowler hat that she knew all too well, to the amazed gasps and startled exclamations of those gathered. "You mean besides the fact that you couldn't even kick Xander's ass at the moment?" Whistler asked with an oily smirk, prompting an indignant glower from the dark-haired Scooby who was busy supporting the weakened slayer, the two vampires poised at his side.

Yet before Buffy had a chance to form a retort, Giles was already out of his seat and moving fluidly towards the balance demon, a purely Ripper-esque gleam in his eye as, with one well-placed punch, he sent the shorter creature down upon the polished stone floor. "Yeah, you'll find that's what I have friends for," Buffy bit back as the balance demon groaned, holding one hand against his bruised chin.

"And she's got plenty more where that came from," Spike growled beside her.

"No, no need," Whistler assured as he quickly held up one hand while the other gently probed his aching jaw. "Though I will admit to being a bit surprised at the abundant hostility," he admitted as he gingerly stood, his eyes warily jumping back and forth between Giles' taut form and the two vampires and a carpenter that were all evidently waiting for their turn to work out their aggressions. "I thought that you'd be happy," the balance demon continued as he nodded towards Buffy. "We were giving you the opportunity to be sent back to the place that your friends ripped you from."

"Liar," Buffy returned, her voice as cold as ice. "The only reason that you sent me here was to use my blood to make this world's evil even worse for these people - and then to kill me," she finished as she waved her hand at her watcher, silently indicating that she had this covered. Though her body was still frail and she looked the part of the invalid, her friends had given her the strength to replenish the parts that mattered most.

"Well yeah, you could look at it that way," Whistler agreed as he shrugged his rounded shoulders. "Then again, I guess we should have learned by now that we can't count anything as fact with you, Kid," he continued with a small smile. Jerking his thumb to where Legolas and the others were watching with rapt attention, he slowly nodded his head. "While we saw the others, we didn't see him coming. And we also didn't see the interference of someone else," he added with a small glower that piqued Buffy's curiosity. Anyone that managed to mess with Whistler's plans was alright in her books.

"Someone else?" she prodded.

"The Valar," Whistler clarified with an indifferent shrug. "They were sticking their noses where they don't belong - again."

"Then you were not sent by the Valar?" Elladan queried, his dark brow arched in confusion.

"You are not Istari?" Elrohir added as he shot a baffled look to his twin.

"Me? Istari?" Whistler asked with a small laugh. "Not even close," he assured as he tucked his thumbs into the pockets of his green suit. "Nah, I just thought you'd take the message to heart a bit better if I showed up wearing something a little more familiar. You made your own assumptions and I went with them," he explained as he rocked back on the balls of his heels.

"I don't understand," Xander whispered to Giles as he warily eyed the little man. "What does valor have to do with any of this?"

"You mean the Valar, and good question," Whistler returned as he nodded at the dark-haired young man. "The Powers and the Valar are higher beings with different agendas: the Valar work for this world while the Powers That Be answer to all worlds," he explained, his eyes drifting to the leaders of Middle-earth. "The Powers work for balance, but every now and again someone throws a wrench in their big plans and then it's up to me to help get things back on track. For example, this world's big wrench came when that 'little hobbit that could' defied all odds and got rid of the ring that belonged to 'wish I had a body' Sauron. Frodo Baggins should have failed that day, but the Powers hadn't counted on the fact that in this world, friendship and fellowship were enough to see things through - and they really didn't see Samwise Gamgee coming in to save the day and help to do what should have been the impossible."

"So this world was unbalanced," Giles surmised with a thoughtful frown, "just as our world was thrown out of balance when Willow and the others managed to resurrect Buffy."

"Give the Watcher a scone," Whistler mocked as he rolled his eyes at the Brit, obviously expecting a scowl out of the bookish man, only to be surprised by the fierce glare that was leveled in his direction. "Easy there, tiger," he urged, backing up a step as he gently massaged his swollen jaw. "I only meant to say that you hit that one right on the head. So with two worlds out of balance, the Powers decided to kill two birds with one stone."

"And I would be the stone," Buffy grumbled as she arched a brow at the smaller man. "So you sent me here to stop the First Evil on my world and... what then?" she asked. "You guys wanted all of this?"

Whistler tentatively shook his head as he stepped back a couple of paces. "Not exactly," he admitted as he chanced a glance at her friends.

"So what was supposed to happen?" Buffy demanded, daring the man to say it aloud.

Recognizing the glimmer in the slayer's eye, Whistler paused for a healthy moment before pushing ahead. "Like I said before, we thought you'd be happiest this way."

"Happiest what way?" Buffy pushed, for some reason needing to hear the words spoken aloud.

Sighing, Whistler forced himself to meet her eyes as he nodded solemnly. "You were supposed to be captured that first day when the orcs attacked, and eventually, you were meant to be killed after enough of them had been turned."

"But that didn't happen," Buffy whispered, somehow feeling deflated beneath the acknowledgement that the higher powers that she had spent seven years working for had sent her here to die.

"No, it didn't," Whistler agreed with a sad smile. "From what we've been able to figure out, it seems that the Valar intervened when they sent blondie, here, out to kill you before any of the orcs were changed," he admitted as they both turned to Legolas who had been silent to this point, his face unreadable.

"Then none of your plans were achieved," the elf stated, obviously thinking back upon the dream that he had spoken of - the one that had asked for her blood to be spilled before the two armies. "Neither goal was achieved for she was killed by neither," he stated as she met his solemn gaze.

"Well, at first we thought that we'd still get our way," Whistler countered. "We were given our army and the slayer, here, was still going to die. The Powers were content to sit back and let things take their course."

"So why did you step back in?" Buffy asked with saddened resignation. "If you hadn't told them where I was being held, I would have died and you would have had your way."

"Yeah, that plan backfired on us," Whistler admitted with a small shrug. "But after your little sister's visit, we knew that it wouldn't be long until your friends came here, as they have, and mucked things up even worse - balance-speaking, of course. So we decided to step things up a bit and get you back where you really belong even quicker. Unfortunately," he added with a weighty sigh, "the Valar must have realized the same thing and one upped us with that little vision trick they have going on."

"Vision trick?" Faramir asked, an expression of bewilderment on his handsome features as he looked from his king to the strangely dressed man.

"Yeah, the dreams that blondie's been getting," Whistler clarified as he waved towards Legolas. "You see, the Valar won't interact directly as your worlds are separate now. But you had three powerful elves looking out for their children and grand-children back in Middle-earth, pulling in every favor they could - not to mention a wizard that holds a lot of weight over there. So they compromised with those dreams that he's been having. The end result? No one's getting what they want."

Buffy slowly leaned against Xander as she eyed the demon that had always been a bearer of bad news. "So why are you here now?" she asked, getting right to the heart of the matter. "It's not like I'm just going to roll over and die. You should have learned that by now," she pointed out as she crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest, all the while ignoring the fact that if it hadn't been for her friends, she would have been willing to do just that. It was funny how much one's perspective could change over the course of twelve hours.

Nodding at her retort, Whistler spread his hands wide, that same sly smile once more pulling at his lips. "Never let anyone say that you don't have spunk, Kid," he credited before shrugging apologetically. "Yet the fact remains that something needs to be done."

"Well I would say that I'm open to suggestions, but the truth is - I'm not," Buffy stated, her voice flat. "You can tell your Powers that I'm through being their puppet. I no longer work for them; I'm no longer one of their Champions; I'm no longer their pawn or anything to them. We're through," she finished, her voice filled with a strength that had been lacking for so long.

Grinning openly, Whistler rocked back on his heels again. "Off the record? I was hoping you'd say that," he admitted as he nodded at her, as if in approval of the return to the slayer that she had always been. "Although at the least, the others need to go home," he warned, returning to business at hand as he waved at her friends from Sunnydale. "Their presence is only going to force the Powers' hand to offset this new development to make things balance again. And Kid? Good luck. I hope that we won't be seeing each other again," he added before disappearing in a flash of light that once more left people scrambling from their seats, loud voices clamoring to be heard over one another - loud voices that all but smothered the five friends beneath the weight of the balance demon's final warning.

Buffy had known all along that this moment was coming. Giles had warned her that this stay could only be temporary, Angel had admitted to much the same, and even Spike had been resigned to the fact that this reunion couldn't last forever. She had even known that their parting was going to be sooner rather than later, what with war looming on the horizon, but that forewarning did little to ease the pain that came with Whistler's parting words. "Well, you heard the man," she murmured as she indicated for her friends to follow her into a more secluded corner of the room. Holding out her hand, she silently asked for the small glass vial that contained her friends' return ticket to the land of modern conveniences.

"What?" Xander exclaimed, his eyes growing wide as Giles reluctantly retrieved the small vial from an inner pocket and dropped it in his slayer's open palm. "Buff, you can't really be thinking of listening to that... that stupidly dressed moron! He's the one that got you into this mess!" He turned to the others for support, only to find that he stood alone in this matter.

"Xan, we don't have a choice here," Buffy sighed as she closed her small hand around the cool glass. Smiling sadly, she looked down upon her clenched fist. "Allowing one champion back where I didn't belong enabled the First Evil to build an army. Do you really want to see what the Powers will allow when two champions are thrown into the mix?"

"Fine," Xander stated obstinately as he grasped her shoulder and forcefully turned her until she was looking up into his serious brown eyes. "Send Dead Boy One and Two back - you can even send G-Man, but I'm not going anywhere," he insisted as he visibly struggled with his words. "Buff, you're one of my best friends - one of the original Scoobies. I'm not leaving you behind again," he whispered, his voice growing strangled.

Smiling softly at his words, Buffy gently reached up and pulled her friend close. "Xander, I love you so much," she whispered as she reluctantly pulled away. "But you do understand what's going to happen here, right? War-"

"Which is of the bad, granted," Xander cut in with a tremulous smile. "But as George Washington once said, I'm not afraid to die. I just don't want to be there when it happens."

"And that would be Woody Allen," Buffy corrected with a small smile.

"Yeah, well the man had a point."

"Which is?" Spike asked, earning himself a nasty glare from the young man.

"The point is I don't care what's going to happen here," Xander insisted, refusing to be baited. "It could be Pearl Harbor for all I care, because I'm not leaving you again. Buffy, you're more than my best friend. You're my family. More family than my parents have ever been."

"Which is why you know you can't stay," Buffy returned as she felt the familiar burning begin to itch at the corner of her eyes. "Xander, Willow's family, too, and she can't lose us both," she whispered, using the only bargaining chip that she had. Xander had always been the heart of the group, and as such, it had always been his heart that had driven all of his actions. His heart was the reason behind all of his good decisions as well as those that landed him into so much trouble. By listening to his heart he had followed her into the Master's lair and breathed life back into her starved body. By following his heart he failed to pass along Willow's message and had urged her to kill Angelus, never warning her that Willow was trying the soul-restoration spell again. By following his heart he had betrayed Cordelia by sneaking around with Willow. And that was only within the first three years that she had known him. In the years since he had grown from the clumsy, goofy guy that had fallen for her to the quiet, confident young man that stood before her today. He had stood beside her against every apocalypse that she had ever faced, and it was because of his heart that he had been able to prevent Willow from ending the world less than a year ago this day. His heart had always been his greatest strength as well as his greatest weakness - and as such, Buffy knew exactly which buttons to push to ensure that her friends would be safe and return to the home that was still theirs.

"Xander, you need to go home," she whispered, forcing the smile that felt so false as she allowed him to pull her close for one more bone-crushing hug.

"I just always thought that I would be there with you, you know, for the end," he whispered as he held her as though trying to put a lifetime full of love into that one embrace. "I should be at your side. That's all I'm saying."

"And you will be," Buffy returned as she put everything that she could into this final embrace with a past that would forevermore be nothing but a memory. "You're my strength, Xander, and I trust you with my life. That's why I need you to do this for me," she reassured as she gently disentangled herself from her best friend, trying to ignore the pain that twisted his boyish features into a distraught mask.

She turned away and smiled at her watcher, who watched this goodbye between two of his children with saddened eyes. "And they all need you," she added as she reached for his hand with fingers that trembled from weariness and strain. "The hardest part of leaving was believing that you weren't there to take care of them all," she admitted as she was engulfed in one final goodbye with the man that had been everything to a frightened and confused young girl. "They need you. We always have."

Smiling tightly, she felt her Watcher's hitched breath upon her forehead as he pulled away, his hazel eyes raking over her pale features. "Remember to eat lots of red meat, fish, poultry, and dark green vegetables, such as broccoli and spinach. All are good sources of iron - and no tea, coffee, or smoking," he warned. "They will only slow your healing."

Faking a tired salute, Buffy flashed a quick, watery grin as she turned at Spike's gentle touch. "We already got our goodbyes, but the others wanted to make sure that they got theirs as well," the vampire explained as he dropped Giles' black duffel on the floor at their feet. "There's something in there from everyone," he added before pulling her close in an embrace that caused her ribs to ache and her breath to wheeze through parted lips. And then Spike was gone and Angel was in his place, this embrace far more gentle and tender as he whispered his final partings - partings that were meant to last forever.

After days of everything seeming to move so slowly, Buffy now felt overwhelmed by time that slipped through her fingers faster than she could possibly comprehend. She was the one who had initiated this goodbye, but suddenly it was happening too fast and her heart ached as her four friends pressed close in one last farewell that connected them all. Struggling for a breath that wouldn't come, she was embraced on all sides, overwhelmed by the mingled scent of the four men that had meant the most in her life for seven long years - and yet the cool cylinder of glass that rested in her palm was her grounding point.

"How lucky I am to have known someone who is so hard to say goodbye to," Giles whispered as she felt his warm lips press against her forehead. And with these words, Buffy slipped her eyes shut and clenched her hand into a fist, shattering the fragile glass as the jagged shards pierced the flesh of her hand, mingling her blood with the clear fluid held within. In that moment, there was no sound as everything became swallowed in a vacuum - a rush of heat and silent wind in which the press of warm and cool bodies disappeared as if they had never been, with only the lingering sensation of Giles' lips tingling upon her skin.

Alone in this silent vacuum, Buffy lifted one shaking hand and pressed it against her forehead, feeling the lingering moisture of that last kiss. She felt the tears gather in her eyes and stain her cheeks with their salty caress, and yet these sensations were somehow less real than that imagined press of lips against skin. Nothing was more real than that final connection with the world that she had left behind.

But then there was a hand upon her shoulder, gentle yet firm in its insistent pressure as it demanded her attention and shattered the silent web that had ensnared her solemn form. Gasping raggedly, Buffy felt the rest of the world come rushing back in one colorful wave as her eyes flew open to find Legolas' beautiful face tilted before her. She had seen very little of her friend in the crushing mess that had stolen a day out of their lives, and yet his clear gaze held the same kindness that they had ever known for her - ageless in their weight and beauty. His pale, high brow was as perfect as ever, his skin flawless and his hair a golden cascade to frame his ethereal features. His lips, tinged with pink and narrowed in a soft frown, still arched in their same manner.

Everything was the same, and yet everything was different - irrevocably changed by her friends' short visit. And yet as Buffy gazed into his concerned eyes, she knew that the changes hadn't been wrought in the elf that stood before her, but rather in herself. She had been changed as surely as the caterpillar that is given wings, and while her body was inescapably weak, the fire that burned within her had been rekindled. She had been rekindled and she was done with being the Power That Be's puppet. She was done being their victim or even a victim of her fate. From here on in, she was going to be the one in control of her own destiny.

Flashing the elf a reassuring smile, Buffy glanced down at her clenched fist, forcing the hand open to reveal smooth, unblemished skin beneath. Magic without lingering consequences - the kind she liked best. Bending down, she reached for the straps to the duffel, only to have Legolas lift the handles before she could even try. Straightening, she smiled her thanks and slowly followed him back to a table that was drenched in silence, every eye once more lingering upon her slight frame. Not that it mattered anymore.

Sliding into her hard-backed chair with a soft sigh of relief, the slayer stretched her weakened limbs before turning towards the head of the table, dutifully ignoring the four empty seats that were arranged around her. "Where were we?" she asked, her voice strong and clear as she rested both hands upon the table, her eyes locked on Aragorn's shadowed features. For a moment more the silence lingered as Legolas reclaimed his seat, his eyes darting briefly towards her before Aragorn cleared his throat and continued.

Business resumed as usual as the councilors and lords, tentatively at first, renewed their discussions and plans for the upcoming battle that was to be waged. Alone at her end of the table, Buffy followed the conversation with rapt attention, her hands folded serenely in the lap of her beautiful blue gown. Yet beneath the table, one slippered foot slowly slipped back and caught the edge of the black duffel, easing it forward across the smooth stone floor until the full bag was nestled against her feet - the final reminder of a home that was no longer and would never again be her own.

The door closed with a resounding finality that echoed all the way down to the tips of her tingling toes, soft motes of dust, stirred by the sudden draft, twirling and dancing in the late afternoon sunlight. Buffy slowly settled on the edge of the massive bed, her fingers idly plucking at the thick blankets as her eyes flitted from the gleaming dark, polished wooden furniture to the white stone walls that were softened with long banners. The room was spotless and elegant, beautifully decorated and well lit by floor to ceiling windows that took up an entire wall and which led onto a long stone balcony that overlooked a small winter garden. There were only two doors: one which led into the wide, lushly decorated hall beyond, and the other which opened into a small bathing chamber that was outfitted with a massive clawfoot tub and a beautifully gilded mirror that had shown her pale face and dark-rimmed eyes with stunning clarity. A clarity that was impossible to ignore.

The council had adjourned a short time past, and yet even as the men clambered from their seats, Buffy had remained slouched on that hard wooden chair, lost to her troubled thoughts. Her friends were gone now for all time, and yet it wasn't this understanding that had captivated her for the last half of the long council, for that was a realization for another time when the pain would become real and the adjustment to a life without them would start again. No, what left her slouched upon the straight lines of the uncomfortable chair was the sudden understanding that the war that was about to be waged was going to go down in a few hours. In a few hours time, Gondor would march against the Dark-Elves that her blood had created... and she was in no condition to participate.

Scowling at her clasped hands, she had ignored the tremors of her aching body as she rubbed her ankle against the black duffel that rested between her slippered feet. This, more than any other battle she had ever waged, was her fight. This was her battle. And yet this battle wasn't going to wait for her to heal. It wasn't going to wait for her to return to full strength or even strength enough to lift a sword. This battle- no, this war was going to happen tonight - and she was going to be powerless to participate. And at that moment, that thought had made her wish that she had decked Whistler when she had the chance.

Buffy flopped back upon the massive bed, her eyes tracing the intricate patterns on the canopy above. Legolas had come for her once the council had ended, with Aragorn and Arwen at his side, to deliver her into the elf-Queen's hands so that she could be escorted to her new chambers.

Her new chambers.

Snorting softly, Buffy slowly shook her head. Legolas had pointed out that she couldn't very well remain in the Houses of Healing until the end of her days, but to be given rooms in the King's Palace? In the seventh and most heavily protected circle of Gondor's capital? Her pessimistic side, the part which had been cultivated during her months of captivity, snidely whispered that such a kind gesture had been given less as a sign of friendship and more as a way to keep her close and out of trouble. Or perhaps both, she decided as she rolled onto her side, her blue gown pillowing beneath her.

"This world is your home now," Aragorn stated, his solemn features softening into a small smile. "As you are of the race of Men, you will always have a place in Minas Tirith."

Her home. This strange place was now to be her home.

Buffy quickly sat up, her voluminous sleeves pooling at her sides as she scooted into the middle of the bed and pulled the black duffel before her. A servant had carried the bag for her as Arwen led her from the Citadel and into the King's Halls which sat behind the massive tower - and yet Buffy had barely glanced at her impressive surroundings, for her eyes had been riveted upon the bag that remained her final, tenuous link to the home that had forsaken her.

Once more ignoring the tremors that pulsed through her weakened limbs, Buffy hastily unzipped the bag and allowed the sides to fall open to reveal a gaping black maw that was darker than the darkest night - one last trick of Willow's, no doubt. Frowning, Buffy contemplated the impossible space which swallowed the very light that arched through the grand room, before impulsively sticking her hand into the bag, watching with sick fascination as her pale appendage became devoured by the chilly dark. Reaching her questing fingers, she moved her hand in the sinister space until it bumped against something hard and unyielding. Curious, she withdrew her hand only to find a simple black VHS tape gripped in her small fist.

"What the-" she began as she turned the tape over to find a small post-it attached to the other side.

Buffy, I finally finished the documentary of the slayer that I started just after you left!! I wanted you to have the first copy so you can show all of your friends... or if Giles and the others can't free you, you can always show it to your enemies. It's going to be a valuable record - an important document for the ages. I've decided to call it: A Slayer In Action. Catchy title, don't you think? This way the world will know about you. It's a story of ultimate triumph tainted with the bitterness for what's been lost in the struggle - namely, yourself. It's a legacy for future generations and I think it has Cannes Film Festival winner written all over it! Look out, Michael Moore! Here comes Andrew!

Oh yeah - and best of luck with the rescue!

~Andrew

Rolling her eyes, Buffy fingered the useless tape before pushing it to the side. Apparently someone forgot to point out that if sharing tapes between countries was impossible, doing so between worlds was going to be a very remote likelihood. That and the whole lack of electricity that Middle-earth had going on.

Shrugging indifferently, Buffy turned back to the open duffel and once more stuck her hand into the murky midst. This time she snagged something that most definitely felt like a book before pulling the object free. And lo and behold, it was a book. Buffy flipped open the small, unmarked cover that was wrapped in soft suede, her mouth dropping open as she gaped at the boldly lettered title and the short message that was scrawled beneath in tightly penned script: Slayer Handbook - I was told that you never received a copy - figured it was worth a laugh, at the very least. ~Wesley

Buffy flipped through the first few pages with a soft chuckle before tossing the book aside, and eagerly reached for the bag once more. And so she continued, her hand continuously dipping into the duffel to emerge with yet another new treasure that was perfectly suited to the many quirks of her friends' vast personalities. Anya had sent a small bag of gold coins with a note insisting that when all else fails, money would get her out of any trouble that she managed to land in, and despite what others may think, it could buy happiness. Kennedy had included a large canister of instant coffee to which Giles had attached a warning that she wasn't allowed to touch it until she was healthy. From Xander she received a small photo album of the gang that ranged the entire seven years they had been together - a gift that was tenderly set aside as she was reminded of the photograph of her friends that had been returned to her the day before, only to be lost in Vashnak's attack.

Angel had included the cross pendant he had given her when she was only fifteen while Robin had somehow managed to fit an entire sword into the bag - something that his mother had carried during her tenure as slayer. Even Angel's friends, some that she had never met, had added to the mix. From someone named Gunn she received a dagger, while Lorne had included a solar-powered MP3 player that boasted over 10,000 songs and which came with a note that proclaimed that music was the language of the soul. She was just relieved that she would finally be able to get that damn Ludacris song out of her head.

From Faith she had received Mr. Pointy, the treasured stake that had been given to her by Kendra before she died, while Spike had included a fifth of whiskey and a note that read: My soul is wrapped in harsh repose, midnight descends in raven-colored clothes, but soft... behold! A sunlight beam cutting a swath of glimmering gleam. My heart expands, 'tis grown a bulge in it, inspired by your beauty effulgent. - Thank you for being my inspiration. I've waited over a century to finish that bit.

Yet surprisingly, it was the last three gifts that gave her the most pause. She had never met Angel's Fred - the girl that he and his friends had rescued from the dimension that she had been stranded in - but she didn't need to know her to smile at the gift of flannel pajama pants and a matching tank. Attached to the neatly folded clothes was a small note that read, I learned while in Pylea that the happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything. They just make the most of everything that they have. I made the most of what I had, and so will you - but out of everything that I missed from home, a clean pair of pajamas were always top of the list. Maybe they have been for you, too.

Smiling at the young woman's thoughtfulness, Buffy fingered the soft folds before putting the garments to the side, her hand once more descending into the black hole that had been revealed by the opened zipper of the unassuming duffel. It was then that her questing fingers had fumbled upon something soft and squishy and covered in tufted fabric - something that she knew even before she had pulled it free of the bag's confines.

"Mr. Gordo," she whispered, tears burning her watery eyes as she crushed the familiar stuffed pig against her chest. Bending forward, she pressed her face against the pink fabric of the well-loved stuffed animal, greedily breathing in the scent of the laundry soap that her mother had always used, combined with the salty tang of someone else's tears. Dawn's tears, she realized with sudden clarity as she reluctantly pulled away, her gaze falling on the short note that was pinned to one of the pig's scruffy ears.

You once told me to live for you. Now I tell you this: most people don't get to choose how they're going to die. Or when. They can only decide how they're going to live. Now. Make choices that we can both live with. I love you - always. ~Dawn

Smiling through her tears, Buffy reverently traced her sister's large, loopy letters as she pondered the sort of choices that the younger Summers' would have been able to live with. Dawn would want her to fight for this world that had become her own, certainly, but she would also have wanted for her older sister to live in this world. It was one thing to survive, she knew, for she had done nothing but survive in this world ever since she had arrived here - always subconsciously waiting for the chance to return, if not to her home, then at least to something familiar. Heaven, perhaps. But that was survival. It wasn't living.

Lips set in a narrow line, Buffy settled Mr. Gordo in the warm nest of her lap as she reached forward and slid her hand into the duffle for the last time. Back and forth she swept her small fingers, searching the cavernous depths for any last surprises that were to be found in the magically enlarged bag. In the end, there remained only one final gift - one final goodbye - to be found as her blunt nails scraped along the bag's bottom, catching on the lip of a thin envelope that had been overlooked until the very last.

Snagging the edge between her forefinger and thumb, Buffy pulled the small white square from the darkness and lifted it into the light, turning it back and forth as the fractured sun illuminated the single sheet of paper hidden within. Frowning, Buffy slid one finger between the sealed edges and withdrew the torn piece of notebook paper it contained - a simple scrap of paper that was littered with her watcher's flowing script.

I have thought long and hard of what I could possibly gift you in this final moment that will see you through whatever trials you will face. In the end, I have discovered that there is nothing left to give, for you already carry everything that I am within you. Buffy, I have given you everything that I could over the years as I trained and guided you on your Chosen path to the best of my abilities. I have made mistakes - many mistakes. But such regrets are beyond us now, for what is done is done, and not even the Powers That Be can change the past. You must face the difficult task of moving on, and yet you cannot forget what came before - what made you the person that you are today. You have surpassed my every wish for you, as both a slayer and as the woman that you are still becoming. You have become someone that I will always be proud of. Someone that your mother would have cherished. Just remember what it is you fight for and you will never go astray. Nothing that is worthwhile is ever easy. Never give up when you still have something left to give, for it is never truly over until the moment that you stop trying. I love you.

Sniffling, Buffy mechanically brushed away her tears as she reread Giles' letter over and over again, committing his words to memory as she felt his warm lips pressed against her forehead anew. "I love you, too," she whispered to the ghost of her watcher as she hugged Mr. Gordo with one arm while the other hand gently placed the scrap of paper on the bed before her. "I love you, too," she repeated, her voice husky with unshed tears as she turned and looked upon her scattered gifts, only to have her teary reminiscence interrupted by a soft knock on her closed door.

Quickly scrubbing away the wet tracks that lined her pale cheeks, Buffy pushed her tired body towards the edge of the massive bed, accidentally knocking the duffel to the floor as she forced her shaky legs to carry her as swiftly as possible to the carved wood. "Hold on a sec," she called out as she fumbled with the metal lever before finally releasing the catch, pulling the heavy door open to reveal Legolas standing in the empty hall before her - a Legolas that wore stiff leather guards upon his shoulders, his twin knives holstered in his quiver of arrows, and a long, gleaming sword which was secured at his side.

Inexplicably feeling her chest tighten at the not-too-subtle reminder of the war that was about to break, Buffy held the door against her breast as she stared at her friend with solemn eyes. "What are you doing here?" she asked with a weary sigh as she leaned her forehead against the cool wood.

"I have come to say goodbye," Legolas explained, faint lines appearing in his furrowed brow. "Though perhaps I should not have come," he continued as he looked upon her wan features.

"No, I'm glad you did," Buffy hastily amended as she moved back and opened her door further, silently inviting him into the room. "I'm just feeling a bit off."

"Off?" Legolas returned as he stepped through the portal, his eyes sweeping over the lush chambers and the items scattered over her bed. "Your rooms are not to your liking?" he hazarded, turning towards her as she slowly shuffled over to a large, plump chair.

"They're great, really," Buffy assured the elf as she settled her aching frame onto the elegantly patterned cushion, one hand absently clutching Mr. Gordo in her lap. "I just..."

"What is that?" Legolas interrupted, a quizzical smile lifting his lips as he stepped gracefully around the scattered mess and knelt before her.

Blushing, Buffy held out the stuffed pig for the elf's curious inspection as he gingerly fingered the soft fabric. "This is Mr. Gordo," she explained with a fond pat on the pig's fuzzy pink head. "I've had him ever since I was a little girl and used to sleep with him every night. My sister wanted me to have him back," she added, her smile turning wistful.

"He reminds you of your home, then," Legolas surmised as he returned the small stuffed toy, his expression softening. "Does this reminder trouble you?" he continued, his voice gentle.

For a moment, Buffy was silent as she thought of the elf's question before a slow smile lifted her lips. "No, he comforts me," she whispered as she once more clutched the pig against her chest, her eyes drifting to the large windows that looked out upon the dying light of another day before falling down to glare upon her weakened, pale limbs. "This is what troubles me," she admitted as she lifted one trembling hand and glared upon the thin appendage. "I'm weak-"

"No," Legolas countered as he swiftly captured her hand in his. "You are not weak," he stated, his voice firm as she found herself trapped in his bright gaze. "I do not believe that you know how," he admitted, his lips lifting in a small smile.

"But-"

"Listen to your heart, for ever will it speak the truth," the elf counseled before lifting her hand to his lips and brushing the skin with a soft kiss - a kiss that stretched into a quiet moment that was shattered by a sound that only Legolas' sensitive ears could hear. "The army is gathering," he murmured as he distractedly released her hand, effortlessly rising from his crouch and moving towards the open door.

Frowning, Buffy remained frozen until something seemed to break within her. Jolting forward, she clutched Mr. Gordo in her lap as his name burst from her lips. "Legolas, wait!" she demanded as the elf paused on the threshold. "I... I'll see you soon," she stammered as he turned to her, a question in his blue eyes.

Smiling, he nodded in agreement. "Soon," he vowed before slipping cat-like into the hall beyond, the door closing with a soft snick in his wake.

"Soon," Buffy repeated as she slumped against the chair's back, her mind whirling with the advice of her friends and loved ones. Legolas had urged her to take counsel with her heart for it would never lead her astray. Giles told her never to give up. Dawn wanted her to truly live for them both.

"I never realized it was possible to be anything other than what you have always been, and that which you will always be."

Startled, Buffy thought again to owyn's casual words from earlier that morning, and in that moment she felt her mind clear as everything else melted away. At the time, she really hadn't given the White Lady's words any thought, but in a moment of clarity, Buffy suddenly understood the depth of that simple message.

She had been looking at it wrong all along.

Ever since she had been called, she had always thought of the Slayer and Buffy Summers as two different people. She had mourned the loss of the girl that she had been as the Slayer seemed to take over - a Slayer who had a destiny that was out of Buffy's control. But what she had been missing was the fact that the girl had never died. Buffy Summers and the Slayer were one and the same and there was no differentiating between the two. They had meshed until they became a seamless blend, and now Buffy Summers was the Slayer just as much as the Slayer was Buffy Summers. And while some people could argue that she wasn't in control of her own destiny, what they didn't understand was that as the Slayer, she had the power to ensure that she was nobody's puppet. It was true that she had been beaten down and defeated so many different times on this world, but she was nobody's victim. She couldn't be, for the difference between her and those like her was that she refused to stay down. She refused to stay broken or defeated. She would not be beaten.

Absently fingering the back of her hand where the skin still sizzled from Legolas' kiss, Buffy forced her weary body from the large chair and began the slow, halting walk back to the bed. The sound of the gathering army was a muffled drone that echoed at the very edges of her enhanced hearing, forcing her to distraction as she sidestepped the overturned duffel, only to have her slippered feet catch on a long thin cord and drag it free of the black bag. Pausing, Buffy grabbed a fistful of her heavy blue skirts and lifted them out of the way as she eyed the long, leather cord that was barely discernable upon the brightly patterned rug.

"Now where did you come from?" she murmured as she carefully knelt down, her weakened limbs wavering dangerously beneath her as she stretched out one hand and snagged the thin cord, gently tugging it free of the duffel's handle. Yet what came free was more than a simple cord, Buffy realized as she caught sight of the dark red stone that was woven into the thin leather, a single piece of paper taped to one side.

"Willow," she whispered, a smile brightening her features as she recognized the narrow, slanted letters that adorned the outside of the note. Quickly standing, Buffy tore the piece of paper free, her eyes scouring the neat cursive as she ambled blindly back towards the bed.

Buffy, if you're reading this, that means that the guys succeeded and that you're free from your prison - a prison that I can't help but feel as though I helped to build for you. If it hadn't been for me, you never would have left that place in which you felt safe and warm, only to be returned to a life that hurt you. I'm the reason that you had to be sent away. It's a chain of events that I can't get past - a direct line that begins with me and ends with you in a place that only Dawn has seen. And for that I am sorry.

Buffy, I'm sure that Giles has told you that my magic is gone. I've finally reached too far and I've paid the price. I wanted to reassure both Dawn and I that you would be fine, but instead I only gave her a glimpse of whatever hell you've been sent to - and I can't make it right. I'm no longer Super Willow, the juiced up witch who can pull a bullet from your chest and heal the damage that has been done. I'm merely Willow, the lonely, shy girl that you befriended and introduced to a world of magic, darkness, and so much light. But that simple Willow does have one saving grace, and that's the knowledge I've gained over the past seven years.

My gift to you is this powerful charm that's both a blessing and a curse. Giles thinks that the reason why you were in such bad shape when Dawn saw you was because you were suffering from anemia. I hope he's right. The gem that I've weaved into the necklace is a garnet, a stone that's known for its blood-related healing properties. By tying the cord so that the stone hangs over your heart, the garnet will restore balance to your body by drawing away whatever toxins pollute your blood and by restoring that which your body lacks. But you must remember that this isn't a fix-all for your problems. Before I became Super-Willow I may have mentioned that Wiccan magic is all about balance; balance of the elements, balance of the body, and balance of the soul. In other words, this kind of earth magic - that which is all that is left to me - will never allow such miracles as pulling bullets from bodies without some kind of bad to counteract the good. So when the contact is broken between the stone and your body, all the good that has been done will be undone - and Buffy, that's before the bad takes over. Basically, I think it's going to make your situation worse.

So now you must be wondering why I'm giving you a gift that comes with such a heavy cost. But then again, I think we both know the answer to that. Sometimes people do stupid things, take stupid risks, and make stupid decisions - and all because they know that in this dark world that we live in, there's no such thing as the road less traveled. There's only one road. One option. And sometimes all of those stupid things are the only way to make any headway down that road. Buffy, I want nothing more than to fix what I'm in part the cause, but I can't. The best I can do is give you this. Please be careful and use it wisely, and hopefully someday we'll meet again in whatever world comes after this. I love you.

~Willow

Slowly lowering the letter to the blanket beside her, Buffy gently fingered the small garnet that lay in her open palm, the long leather cords spilling over to pool in the lap of her blue gown as she contemplated the simple-looking charm.

Balance.

Why did it seem that these days, her entire life revolved around that one simple word? She needed to leave Earth in order to balance the Darkness with the Light. She needed to lose liters of blood to the orcs in Middle-earth in order to balance the Darkness with the Light. It seemed that in the Powers That Be's eyes, her entire life amounted to no more than a paperweight that could be used to balance the scales on either of the worlds for which she was now being held accountable.

Buffy glanced back at Willow's letter as she unconsciously drew Mr. Gordo into her lap, her fingertips becoming buried in the soft pink tuft as she sat in a circle of her final mementos from a home that was no longer her own. A world that had been replaced sometime in the past few months with one that was on the brink of war.

Her war.

As trumpets began to sound in one of the circles below, announcing the gathering of the army of Gondor, Buffy knew what to do - something that she had known from the moment that Willow's gift had been revealed. Smiling, the slayer closed her fist around the small stone.

She had a war to get to.