A/N: Mm'kay, actually the last chapter turned into two. But here it is. The two last parts of the first story in this trilogy-to-be.

CHAPTER 35: LIFE IS BUT A DREAM


"You failed in your attempt to kill Angelus?" Quentin Travers was weary of the Council loosing its battles against the ones that were actually meant to serve them – and those who they were meant to kill. Not that he was actually surprised, not this time. He had sent Weatherby alone, and his mission was first and foremost to do recon. He hadn't expected him to actually bring news of Angelus' death.

"Well, sir, I attempted to shoot him with the poisonous arrow, but he grabbed it out of the air…" Excuses, excuses, Quentin thought. Always making excuses. He waved his hand as if to chase away an annoying fly.

"You failed, yes or no?" he cut off. Weatherby looked down.

"Yes, I failed."

"I trust you see how serious this is. Not just your failure; this whole operation has been most shameful to the Council. These two vampires make us seem inferior, which is something we cannot afford after all that's happened during these last few years."

"I agree, sir."

"Not one, but two active watchers have had to be fired. An obstinate Slayer that both has had a close relationship with Angelus and has let him feed from her has disclaimed her responsibility and turned her back on us. The next from the line, killed by a descendant of Angelus because Ms. Summers didn't do what she had to by terminating him. Yet another failing Slayer that… perverted everything the Council used to stand for by using her powers for the other side…"

"We should have had her killed a long time ago," Weatherby snorted, reminiscing the embarrassing failure concerning the dark-haired bitch going by the name of Faith, first in Sunnydale, then in Los Angeles. Quentin stared at him.

"We interrupt?" he said callously. Weatherby looked down again.

"I apologize, sir."

"Very well. Now Angelus has turned the only active Slayer, and we can't really say it's a surprise to us. It has led up to this for years. It's about time we put a permanent stop to this. The Watcher's Council of Britain has to get its honor and glory back."

"I agree completely, sir."

"Now, please tell me you at least got the thing you were there for?"

"Yes sir, Angelus didn't even see me take it."

Quentin gave the slightest hint of a satisfied smile. "Good. Now, prepare the men. We should have everything ready within a few weeks. If we can't beat the vampires the old fashioned way, we shall have to do it by other means."


"Okay, so this time we run like hell if we see a large group of them, right?" Buffy asked. Angel smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, I think that's the best thing to do for now. Not that I don't want to kick their asses, it's just, I want to keep us in one piece while doing it."

"Liking that plan."

They were moving quietly through the forest where the Mohra's lived once more, but this time it was strictly recon, they didn't intend to confront any of the demons. They hadn't found all the supplies they needed to make bombs yet, and besides, they needed to plan their moves better this time.

Buffy had asked Angel how the hell he planned to turn the stuff from the hardware store into bombs – bombs that would actually explode and do some damage, and he had just looked at her. After several minutes of trying to pull it out of him, he had dismissed her by telling her that he had learned a little of everything over the years. Realizing that he wouldn't tell her unless he wanted to, she had left it at that, even though she was pretty curious.

Angel didn't think it'd be wise to throw bombs just from one direction – as for example into the entrance they had found the night before, since they didn't know if there were any more ways in and out of the cave. If there were more entrances many demons would probably be able to escape before they were harmed. Some of them would still die of course, but if they left survivors they would surely be facing a full out war with the Mohra's – and that wasn't really an appealing thought. And a sure way to get killed, no less.

They stood quiet in the shadows. A bright light appeared somewhere for just an instant. Buffy almost thought it had been just a trick of the eye, but Angel had seen it too.

"There. It must be an entrance."

They slowly and carefully made there way towards the spot where the light had appeared. It was an entrance alright, and it was pitch dark inside. Buffy's senses were on high alert – her hearing and sight peeked, but still she couldn't feel the demons inside. She felt worry clawing at her. Were the Mohra's expecting them? Currently ambushing them and preparing to take them out? It would explain the silence. She glanced at Angel, trying to discern whether he was worried as well. He had a thoughtful scowl on his face. Then again, when didn't he?

"Stay here," Angel said, and before she could even open her mouth to argue with him, he was gone. He went close to the entrance and peeked inside the cave. Buffy would have expected him to get a quick lay of the land and turn back, but instead he went inside, still very careful. She wanted to yell at him to stop, or run after him, but she didn't. Her heart told her to stop him from going in there, but her instincts realized that if the Mohra's were really around, it would do more damage than just staying quiet.

"What the hell?" she heard his voice from inside the pitch black cave. Okay, screw instincts. Now she couldn't just stay passive, what if he had been jumped, or trapped, or who knew what else? Getting up from her hiding spot she ran after him. When she came inside the cave, she stopped in her tracks.

What?

The cave was empty. And not as in "only a few demons left". The cave was completely deserted, no one there. Not a single Mohra.

They made a quick sweep around the cave to make sure that it was really empty. It didn't take lone – courtesy of their good night vision. The only thing Angel found was a small note that had been put up close to what seemed to be the main entrance.

"Did you really think we would wait for you to come and slaughter us?" Angel read out loud from the note, shaking his head. "So, gee, they can write too. That's nifty," he muttered.

"So what does that mean?" Buffy frowned. "They ran?" Angel shook his head.

"No, I can't see the type of warrior demon like the Mohra run. It wasn't like we made a very intimidating impression the last time we faced them." Angel picked up a large rock from the ground for demonstration. "And I don't remember all of these big rocks from yesterday. See, the ground in here is covered with them."

Buffy didn't get it at first. "So?" She stared at him. Angel shook his head, anger clawing at him from the inside. The recent addition of human blood didn't help him with the predatory instinct management either.

"So – they killed themselves. When they realized that we may have found a way to get their blood, they… killed themselves," he said quietly.

"But… why?" It seemed ridiculous to Buffy that such strong demons would just kill themselves in a way that would make sure that they couldn't regenerate themselves. Angel shot her a dark look.

"Isn't it obvious? Just like we thought they're really keen on their blood staying within the family, so to speak. Simple life and death doesn't matter to them."

"But they killed themselves, they can't regenerate themselves if they smash the jewels, right?"

"No, but, remember what I told you, for every one of these things that die, ten will rise instead." Buffy stared at him.

"When? Where?" He looked at her angrily.

"Hell if I know!" Buffy flinched visibly and he softened.

"Buffy, I'm sorry. Look, the point is, since every single one of them will come back, multiplying their numbers ten times, there's really no worry for the species either. Maybe one or two has escaped to come back and start it all over again, or maybe they will send someone from some of the other groups. Or maybe the new ones will just rise her. I don't know how it works."

Buffy turned away from Angel, staring out in space, trying to take in what had just happened, trying to come to terms with the obvious and maybe even expected, but still tragic and numbing fact...

It was over.

They couldn't do anything else here. Their chance had passed. Her shot at humanity was lost, gone forever. Their attempts and struggle… it was all for nothing. The Mohra's were all gone and they couldn't change that with a brilliant plan or a dangerous fight to the death… they were just helpless.

And no one was there to help the helpless.


"So that's it, huh?" Buffy said, finally uttering the obvious statement. They were on their way back to the motel. Angel hadn't said a single word during the car ride or the walk from the cave to the car. He was silent, staring ahead without looking at her.

"What?" he asked without taking his eyes off the road.

"That's… it. No more Mohra's, no more blood." No more humanity she added in her head, but she didn't say it out loud. As if they weren't aware of it already.

There was a certain pained hopelessness in her voice, but also a certain form of acceptance, which scared Angel more than the pain. Buffy was giving up. Maybe she even had given up already. And if she had… if she didn't think there was a chance of her ever regaining her humanity, how would he be able to persuade her? If her heart wasn't in it… figuratively speaking… there was no way that it would work.

Angel was quiet a while before he answered. "I've thought about it. It doesn't have to be the end. I mean… Africa isn't that far away, we can try there as well. Or we could go to the Caspian Sea. Maybe we can even find someone else that knows of more Mohra nests in America…"

"No," Buffy interrupted. "No, I don't want that." He turned his head and looked at her. "I... I don't want to put you in any more danger because of this." She sighed. Angel shook his head.

"Buffy... I've been in danger for so many different things, for friends, for strangers… just for the kick of being in danger. I can't think of a better cause than giving you your life back. If taking my own life would give you another shot at humanity… I would do it right now." Buffy gave him an angry look.

"That's very knightly of you," she said dryly. "I don't want you to die for me, don't you understand that? I can't loose you. Not again. Life isn't important if I have to exchange you for it." Buffy maintained a persistent glance out the car window when he turned his head to look at her.

She had pulled her mouth into a tight line and her gaze was hard, but yet vulnerable. He remained silent. Not anymore anyway, he thought. Buffy truly didn't feel like she had anything else to live for than him anymore, which was ironic and tragic in its own way.

"It's not like we're in a hurry." Buffy continued, her voice a little softer. "We have eternity to find another Mohra. Until then, I'm…" she faltered. "I'm… fine with the way things are now."

Fine. Yeah, right. He could hear it in her voice that it was physically hard to get the words out. She wasn't fine – she was dead. A walking corpse. A demon with a soul, doomed to walk the earth and try to make up for centuries of evil… no, that was him. Not her. And he desperately didn't want to put her through the same horror, not more than he already had, anyway. He wanted to end it. Now.

But he couldn't.

He had already lost a part of her – she had been forced to come to terms with the possibility of never being human again, and he understood what she felt. Twice during the last year he had been put through basically the same thing – first when he was human for a day before having it taken away, and then when he first learned of the Shanshu prophecy.

For a while there, he had lost himself in the thought of getting to be human again some day, and it had made him loose his focus. And when he realized that it might never be… that the prophecy might mean something else, or that he might get himself killed long before it was due to happen, or that it was a lie even to begin with… the feeling of being pulled back down into his dead state of mind was devastating.

So yes, he could imagine and understand what she felt, but still, it was different for her. A few weeks ago she had been a living, happy human with family and friends… heading towards a good life despite the fact of being the Slayer. Now she was a vampire. Dead, with no family and only a few friends left – friends that didn't seem to be able to come to term with what their friend had become.

"I guess I better call Giles when we get back to the motel, tell him that we're coming back," Buffy said silently.

"Hmm." Angel wanted to find something to say, something nice and tasteful – something that would brighten things, if only ever so slightly. But he wasn't good with the words. That gift belonged to his soulless alterego. If he could only say as many nice things when he had his soul as mind-tripping and hurting when he was evil…

"And tell him that we won't be staying, just picking up my things…"

"Hmm." Angel frowned, turned his head and looked at her. "What?"

"Well, you know. I don't have anything left in Sunnydale, not the house, or…" Buffy was about to mention her family, but she stopped herself. Therein lied a lot of pain for both of them, and there was no need to bring that up now.

"Um… and well, I don't really know what I would to in Sunnydale anymore." She swallowed. "I mean… you have your… responsibilities and I… I don't have anything."

"Sure you do," he said almost automatically, not considering exactly what he was referring to until after he had said it.

"Like what? What should I do? I'm not the Slayer anymore. I mean, not really." Angel lowered his gaze, not saying a word.

"I want something to do," Buffy continued. "Maybe a job or something, now that... college is out, and I can tell you – I will not spend a good part of my unlife swinging hamburgers at the Doublemeat Palace during the night shift."

"What about your friends?" Buffy smiled sadly, looking down at her hands.

"What friends? I'm not even sure they consider me that anymore."

"Of course they do," Angel argued.

"Yeah? Where were you when they gave me the chilly reception back in Sunnydale? I mean, you could practically hear the ice creaking when Willow moved around."

"They're just… It's just hard for them," Angel said.

"It's hard for me too," she said somberly, falling silent for a moment. Angel considered her words, and he understood. It would have helped if her friends had been more understanding. Of course it was awkward for them, but they had looked at Buffy as if she had grown a second head, and that wasn't okay.

They were not the ones that had lost their life, that had to come to term with never going outside, and living on blood, and fighting down a never silent demon that only wanted to destroy and kill.

"I thought he meant that time when Spike split us up… when we fought Adam," Buffy mused. Angel looked at her, at a complete loss. What was she talking about?

"What?"

"You know…" She stopped herself for a moment. "No, I guess you really don't… Last Halloween, we met this demon. A very small little fear demon."

"Gachnar?" Angel asked. Buffy frowned and looked at him.

"How do you know?"

"Gachnar's Irish. Even if I haven't lived there for a while, still know a few things about my home country, you know," he said, giving her a friendly look. Buffy nodded.

"Right. Anyway… he told me… 'they were all going to abandon me'." She swallowed hard. "I didn't think much about it, but then I just assumed that he meant… that time with Adam. I guess now… I know what he really meant." She looked away, trying to hide the pained look on her face.

"Buffy…" Angel began, but she held up a stopping hand. She didn't want to hear it, hear his soothing words and attempts at trying to get her to think that she wasn't right. She hadn't taken those words of Gachnar seriously. After all, she had just lived through an entire evening of his pranks and was about to crush him under her shoe… but he had proven to be just right. Everyone that had been with her at that time was gone. Maybe not literally, but still. They had all abandoned her. Or at least so it felt.

"Friends or not… I'm not close to them anymore. Or, right now," Buffy said finally, and Angel nodded. She was right. He truly hoped that she would find her way back to her friends eventually, because he knew how much they had always meant for each other, but right now, maybe they needed a little time away from Buffy to adjust to – certain facts.

"So what do you want to do?" Angel wasn't sure what to say. Of course that old broken record in him told him to say the usual lines – we shouldn't be together, there is too much if a risk, I'm not good for you… but on some level, he was sick of it. Sick of the excuses.

He had killed her, what more damage could he possibly do to her? Did he even have a say here? Last time they were in this situation – in the car, trying to have a deep and meaningful conversation – he had told her that it was up to her. That he was sick of making all the hard decisions and getting nothing good out of it. If Buffy actually wanted to stay with him, what right did he have to deny her that?

"Silly, don't you think Cordelia told me? I know Angel Investigations has moved to a giant hotel, and I'm sure you could use some help from me to start it up again."

Angel glanced at her. A part of him had wished for her to say that. Another part dreaded for it. But no matter which way he looked at it, he couldn't find it in himself to think of it as en entirely bad idea.

What would happen to Buffy alone in Sunnydale? She would be an outsider. Maybe she would even – God forbid – socialize with Spike when no one else was there for her. Both of them were cursed this time, none of them allowed any moments of perfect happiness. Maybe being together… being remotely happy would be nice. Nice... and world-endangering. Insane. But still…

"You'd want that?" She nodded firmly. This was well thought through, and no one – Angel or anyone else, would stand in her way.

"Yes. You know, I've been slaying demons for a good 5 years now, but I've never gotten paid for it. Slaying and money's been, like, contradiction in terms. Could be a nice change."