At 12:50, Susan and I were waiting outside the door of what I guessed was Buffy's apartment.

"I'm nervous," Susan said.

"Me too," I said.

Fifteen minutes later, Buffy opened the apartment from the inside. I would have sworn when we arrived that the apartment was empty. Buffy was now dressed in a black t-shirt and black jeans and a black knit cap. Slung over her shoulder was a crossbow. In her right hand was a wooden stake with an elaborately carved handle. There was grey dust on her shirt and pants. I recognized the dust.

Buffy stood aside to let us in. The apartment was a tiny studio, with a bed and a kitchenette and bath to the side. It was maybe half the size of my hotel room in Sunnydale. Buffy shrugged off the crossbow, expertly folded up the ends and put it into the same leather gym bag I was sure Karl had mentioned earlier. The wooden stake she laid reverently on the inn table next to her bed. Then she went over and shut the door behind us and crossed her arms.

"How did you find me, and what do you want from me?" she asked.

I told her everything, with the exception of my conversation with her father in New York, and my second conversation with Xander. She listened. As she listened, she started to relax. When I finished, she was sitting on her bed.

"You have people who love you, Buffy," I said. "Your mother and sister and friends and even Giles."

"You didn't mention my father," Buffy said. Her voice was brittle.

"I suspect he loves you too," Susan said. "But his love is probably not as productive or true as your mother's."

"Spoken like a true shrink," Buffy said. "But you're also right."

"We shrinks are known to be right on rare occasions," Susan said dryly.

"So what happened in that final fight with Angelus?" I asked.

Buffy gave a brief and bitter chuckle.

"What do you think happened?"

"I think you two fought. Spike probably overcame Drusilla and fled the premises with her. You killed the other vampires, and it was down to just the two of you. I'm not sure what happened then, the fight may have been close. Or, you may have been more distracted than he was, and he was pressing the advantage. At any rate, you fought until something went through him, then he wasn't fighting anymore. Then I'm really not sure what happened. I'm guessing maybe you killed him, then realized afterwards that Willow must have tried the spell again, and returned his soul."

As Buffy listened, her expression went from cynical and resolute to shocked. Then, her face started to crumble, and I wasn't looking at a slayer. I was looking at a seventeen year old girl whose heart had been broken. She cried, then sobbed. She laid down on her bed, on her side, and cried some more in great gasps. I looked at Susan. Susan watched Buffy. Susan, I think, was more comfortable with this situation than I was. She probably had people crying hard in her office at least once a week. She bought a box of Kleenex for her office every time she went shopping. Even so, at one time Susan reached out her hand as if to touch Buffy, but then pulled her hand back again. We waited.

Eventually, Buffy sat up and looked at me.

"You're very good at figuring things out, aren't you?"

"Yes he is," Susan said. "And he's a very good friend to have."

Buffy looked at me and nodded.

"You were very close," Buffy said. "Angel, Angelus that is, and I fought. A long time ago Acathla had been killed by some knight with a mystical sword, and when he died he was turned to stone. Angelus woke Acathla up by King Arthuring the sword out of him. It was an enchanted sword, you see. But this knight had another enchanted sword, one that Kendra had brought with her. So we fought each other with mystical swords.

"And you're right, Mr. Spenser, at first Angelus was winning. He drove me out of the house and into the courtyard. Then he disarmed me, held the sword out in front of my face, and taunted me about having nothing left. Then, he tried to stab me in the face."

"And is that when Willow's spell took effect?" I asked.

"No. I caught the sword between my palms, then shoved the pommel back into Angelus' face. Then I picked up my sword and drove him back. I was all I had Mr. Spenser. I had to win or the world would be sucked into Hell. And there were people in the world who I still loved. So I fought for them. I drove Angelus back, forced him to his knees and disarmed him. And that's when Willow's spell took effect. At first I thought he was faking. I mean, I had him cold, it would have been his last card, and it is exactly the sort of thing Angelus would have pulled. But when he looked at me, so confused, and particularly when the first thing he noticed was where he had cut me, and all he said was 'you're hurt', I knew. That kind of little concern was not a touch that Angelus could have faked. It was Angel, he was back."

Buffy shook her head. Fighting back more tears.

"But you see, Mr. Spenser, Dr. Silverman, Angelus used his blood to pull the sword out of Acathla, to wake him. And only his life's blood would shut Acathla down again. When he got his soul back, Angel didn't remember what he'd done. The memories would have come back eventually, but the gateway to Hell was opening too rapidly from Acathla's mouth to wait for that to happen."

Susan and I shared a look. I doubt either one of us could visualize what she was talking about with regards to Acathla's mouth.

"So here I was. Angel was back. But there was only one way for me to stop the world from being sucked into Hell."

Buffy wiped her eyes. When she raised her head again, she looked devastated.

"So I told him to close his eyes. Then I kissed him. Then I stepped back and ran him through."

"Oh my God," Susan said.

"Jesus Christ," I said.

"Angel didn't turn into dust. His eyes shot open. He held out his hand. His expression, his expression was awful. I don't know whether it was because I had betrayed him, or whether he was remembering the things Angelus had done while he was gone, or both. But anyway, there he was, then he fell back into Acathla, and then he was gone."

"Dust?" I said.

"No, I think he was sucked into Hell."

Susan sat down on the bed next to Buffy. Buffy started to cry again. Susan embraced her. Professional distance, in this case, be damned. Susan's own cheeks were wet. I turned away. My vision blurred.