Intervention
"What's happening?" Dawn felt numb and tingly at the same time. Lost and found; falling apart and coming back together.
Chronos smiled kindly at her. "Your world has ended."
She wanted to cry or scream, anything but sit here calmly listening to the humming in her blood. "Is everyone dead?"
"No. Just waiting." He stood up slowly, looking around at the emptiness that surrounded them. "The time has come. You'll be home soon enough."
"What do you mean?"
"A summit meeting to decide the fate of your world." He waved to the eternal expanse of stars. "But there is something you can do to help."
"Me?"
"Close your eyes."
She did as she was told. It wasn't much of a change from the inky black that surrounded her when they were open. Without visual distraction, the bizarre sensations demanded her attention. Floating, falling, flying; all of the above and none at all. She wondered if there were even words to describe it.
"Breathe deeply. Relax. You'll know what to do. Trust yourself." His voice faded away, lulling her into a dreamlike state.
The boundary of her skin fell away, setting her free. She could feel everything. Green strands of light spread out around her in an endless web of twists and turns. They warmed her fingers when she touched them, vibrating beneath her touch and shimmering through the darkness. Woven together, tight or loose, they spun in carelessly meandering lines. In the distance she could see a patch that was broken, torn apart and tangled into a ball of severed threads. She moved forward instinctively.
Fix them. She had to fix them. Plucking the tattered end of one of the strands, she searched for its mate. It sparkled and danced as she reached for it. Tugging gently, she eased it through the rat's nest of gleaming slivers, bringing the ends together. Smoothing, pinching, the ends caught and twisted together.
One down. A hundred million to go.
Chronos brushed the girl's long brown hair lightly. Her entire body glowed green as the Key surfaced and began the repair of the dimensional walls. They had wondered at the wisdom of the monks when they placed it into the form of a child. Feared that it would be hindered or interrupted; worried that its power would be abused. Occasionally, mortals possessed surprising insight. Or sheer blind luck. He wasn't sure which had been behind the transformation of the Key.
"Time to face the music." He smiled one last time at her sleeping form before he headed toward the soft glow of the Nexus. Part of him hoped that it would be Alatheia's turn to decorate. Her view was always more comfortable than the barracks Ares provided or the mausoleum Thanatos fashioned for them.
Light engulfed him, blinding for a moment before it dimmed and he found himself in an alpine meadow. Gaia then, neutral ground. He chuckled as he saw Joe setting up a small putting green in the grassy field to practice his short-range shots. Ares was sharpening the blade of a machete and Alatheia had transported one of her models to a large tree stump. An emissary from the Powers sat primly on a marble bench, watching the proceedings with cool detachment.
"Good to see you, Chronos," Gaia welcomed him warmly, simultaneously coaxing a seedling from the ground.
"Always practicing, I see."
"No use wasting valuable time," Alatheia interjected with a sigh. "Not all of us have control over that."
"Who are we waiting for then?" Chronos settled onto large curving root.
"The usual. Caine, Thanatos, the Three Blind Bimbos."
"Name calling really isn't necessary," Joe reprimanded from his miniature golf course. Alatheia ignored him.
A crack of thunder announced the arrival of the Incarnation of Evil. He stormed into the meadow angrily. "Would someone please explain to me what is going on? I do believe that stopping time is strictly forbidden."
"It is," Chronos acknowledged.
"And?" Caine growled impatiently. "Could you flip the switch? I'd like to get back to what I was doing."
"Which would be?"
"Nothing of importance."
"Really?" Alatheia glanced up from her model. "I do believe the utter destruction of worlds tends to fall under the important category. Since it is also strictly forbidden."
"I am merely watching the events. I haven't touched that world."
"Don't think we didn't hear you, Ali," Atropis said sourly as the Fates materialized into the meadow. "Bimbos indeed."
"Shoes. Wear them."
"Must you be so snippy?" Lachies sighed, crossing her ankles elegantly as she sat down.
"Comes with the territory."
Clotho flipped her hair and looked around expectantly. "Is everyone here?"
"Just waiting for Death. Never comes when you want him to."
"I AM HERE." The heavy voice resounded through the meadow as a tall figure stepped from the trees, swathed in dark robes and clutching a wickedly curving scythe in his left hand. "PROCEED WITH YOUR INFERNAL BICKERING."
"Very well. Everyone. Gather round." Joe waved his putter in a circle before taking a seat. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Chronos has stopped time," Caine answered angrily.
"Yes, yes. I see. Anything else?"
"I do believe Ares has left the building. Metaphorically speaking." Alatheia inspected a miniature knight carefully. "There have been half a dozen skirmishes and he hasn't even bothered to show up. I'm afraid they all ended quite amicably."
Ares didn't look up from his blade. "Other dimensions have required my attention."
"Gaia has declared war on the demons of the Earth. Just the demons, mind you," Alatheia continued conversationally as she found a place for the knight.
Caine glared murderously at the Incarnation of Life. "What is going on?"
"You forgot something, Caine. In all your careful planning. You forgot one little thing." Alatheia turned away from her castle and eyed him coldly. "We don't like being jerked around anymore than you do, your Evilness."
"You're mistaken."
Alatheia raised an eyebrow. "You do remember that's impossible, don't you?"
"What has he done?" Joe inquired thoughtfully.
"He has had direct dealings with a vampire on the mortal plane. A vampire who has been responsible for the eradication of the Slayer lines."
"That is within the interpretation of the bargain."
"But it was never the intended result. Of course, I'm sure you merely misunderstood the Fates. They do favor riddles." Alatheia waved to the three sisters.
"Regardless, I can't be held responsible for the actions of a vampire."
"But you were."
Caine shifted uneasily. "You can't prove it."
"I don't have to. My word is all anyone needs. Be that as it may, I have one question." She paused to tap her fingers against the fake hillside sweeping up toward the drawbridge. "How did one vampire, a particularly despicable one at that, get his hands on such complete records of the Slayer lines? Enough that he was able to eliminate all but the three active Slayers. No one in his world has that kind of knowledge, not even the Slayers' guardians."
"Am I supposed to know the answer to that?" Caine met her gaze evenly. "It's not like I bothered keeping a detailed family tree. And I'm certainly not the only one who has interfered."
"Given." Alatheia sighed as she straightened one of the tower pennants. "It was Joe who gave him the soul."
Caine stared at his antithesis with surprise. "You what?"
"That is why we didn't see it coming," Clotho chimed in. "It was not meant to be."
"About that?" The emissary from the Powers raised her hand. "What about our Champion?"
"His fate has been restored. Not quite the same but restored," Atropis answered without giving the girl a second look.
"Then you have certainly interfered more than I have," Caine argued.
"But you're missing the point, Caine. We've all interfered. Well, almost all of us. And you know what that means."
"All? How?"
"We have rearranged the threads of men," Lachies said cheerfully. "The Slayer was supposed to die. The vampire was supposed to die years ago, in the battle against, well, you. We altered his death."
"And at Joe's request, we arranged for the circumstances that led to his journey to Africa." Clotho smiled happily, kicking her feet through the tall grass. "Although he didn't tell us why. And we never ask."
"We have found him a new fate," Atropis continued.
Caine frowned. "He's dead."
"And that would be where Thanatos comes in." Alatheia motioned for Death to come forward. "Wave that magic wand of yours and get the mortal coil back here."
"VERY WELL."
"No." Caine clenched his fists furiously as he watched a human body materialize in the soft grass.
"One little detail." Alatheia smiled icily. "A world in ruin is not an ending. It's a beginning."
"No," he repeated, shaking his head in denial. "It can't be."
"To build, you must first tear down. The vampire's act of sacrifice was the final justification for our intervention. You'll find it is well within interpretation of the rules."
"It has to be unanimous," Caine snapped bitterly. "We must all retract for it to be binding."
"You're the only one left and we can stay here as long as you want. Isn't that right, Chronos?"
Chronos looked up from the flower he was admiring. "How ever long it takes, my dear."
Caine's human manifestation shimmered and shifted as he fought with his temper. All of his planning, years and years of careful maneuvering so he wouldn't be detected had been thwarted by one lowly vampire who had somehow managed to convince the very pedestals of reality that he was worth their intervention. "What do you expect me to do?"
"You are going to exult a demon."
There's a light ahead. A soft, gentle light that reminds me of blue skies and sunflowers. That doesn't seem right. Shouldn't it be brimstone and fire? Blinded, I raise one arm to shield my eyes until they adjust. Sunlight. I'm standing in the sun again. My eyes finally focus and I blink, confused, at the arm in front of me. I know it's mine. It does what I tell it to. Up, down. Fingers close, fingers open. Except they aren't really fingers, more like claws. Long, black claws curving wickedly from the ends of gray green skin. Pale, bony spines line my knuckles and pepper my arms. Touching my face hesitantly, I feel more spines along my chin and forehead. Fangs are the same at least.
I'm surrounded by soft grass and trees, an alpine meadow dotted with wild flowers and filled with birdsong. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Is this heaven? I don't understand.
An older man with long white hair and a beard materializes at my side, sitting on a tree stump and watching me. "Hello, Spike."
"Am I dead?" The voice that leaves my lips is foreign, a guttural growl that would sound menacing regardless of the words.
"I'm afraid so. There was no other way."
"Who are you?"
"My name is Chronos." He twirls the tip of his beard thoughtfully.
"Where am I?" Wait. I'm dead? Right. Didn't bugger that part up then. "Faith? Is she all right? What happened?"
"Your world has collapsed."
"What?" I sink down onto the ground, still mesmerized by the sight of my claws. My mind is racing with questions and possibilities. "Supposed to save the world if I died."
"Yes. But not at your hand." The benevolent expression gives the impression that he's speaking to a small child. "Balance was lost when a demon sought to be good, what do you suppose happened to it when that same demon sacrificed his life for the world?"
"Bloody hell." I close my eyes, burying my face in my hands. Feels weird with all the spines. I should have known. If I'd only thought it through for one goddamn minute, not been so blind. So intent on saving Faith and Dawn. I'd killed them all.
"They're safe, for now."
Looking back up, I search his face for reassurance. "What happened?"
"I am an Incarnation, Spike. Of Time, to be precise. We build and maintain reality." Chronos reached out, plucking a daisy from the field and twirling it absently. "As a rule, we are forbidden to interfere in the affairs of men. However, there are strict sets of circumstances that allow and, in fact, require our intervention. It's quite complicated, actually, all the pieces that need to fall into place at precisely the right moment."
"Is he talking your ear off?" A woman's voice rings through the meadow and the Oracle appears next to Chronos. "He has a tendency to ramble."
"I remember you." Dazed, I flick a claw through the grass, surprised when it slices cleanly through the green stalks. "What happened to me?"
"This is what you truly are. Your demon form." She settles onto the ground beside me, reaching out to brush her fingertips over the spines along the back of my hand. "It has been so long since a true vampire has walked the earth that it has been forgotten."
"I don't understand." I think I remember what happened, my last few moments on Earth. Faith. Tears. A stake in my hand, the wind outside.
"It was imperative that you didn't." Alatheia smiles and I notice that she seems tired. For a brief instant, I can sense the agelessness in her. She has lived forever and seen everything. I don't envy that existence.
"Why don't you explain it to him?" Chronos nudged her shoulder gently. "I'll return shortly." I blink as he fades away, leaving an empty tree stump and a limp daisy.
"Reality is not static." Her fingers continue to play over the back of my hand, soothing the panic and confusion. "It requires maintenance. That is where we come in. The Fates balance the scales, keeping the playing field as level as possible. They control the lives of men, the twists and turns. We all have our duties, our places in this universe. Laws we uphold and abide by. When you altered the balance, the Fates brokered a deal to restore it. You for the Slayers."
"What do you mean?"
"No more Slayers were to be called. But one of us, Caine as you know him, took it a step further and began destroying all possible Slayers. He knew, of course, that the forces of good would eventually find a way to reactivate the lines if he didn't eliminate them. It's all about power and politics, unfortunately. Even the good guys play the same dirty game. I have no doubt that the Powers would have found a way to kill you to regain their control over Angel." She watches me for a moment, her dark eyes sober and unblinking. "You have been the variable that both sides have struggled to define. We have batted you back and forth like a toy, pulling and pushing. And you have fought all of us. That is what made this possible. Your world is gone and it will never be restored. Your death, your sacrifice, has ensured that it can never be the same. But we can build you a new world, with a different balance."
"How?" I choke out, still reeling from her words.
"For a new reality to be warranted, each one of us must be willing to break the rules that bind us. In a way, it proves that the old reality is obsolete and needs to be replaced. Good and Evil always get a head start, moving behind the scenes long before the rest of us get involved. Joe orchestrated both pain and evil to manipulate you into fighting for a soul. The chip in your head, everything. Chronos has stopped time to protect those you love until the reconstruction is finished. Gaia has rained down death and destruction in the defense of your world when she is bound to protect all life. The Fates have woven you a new destiny should you choose to accept it. Ares has turned his hand to peace rather than war, although, he is actually doing it for a girl. Very Helen of Troy, without any of that unparalleled beauty nonsense. Who would have thought that War could be so romantic?"
"You've all done...what you can't." I'm still trying to twist everything into some sort of sense.
"Precisely."
"What did you do?"
"I thought that would be obvious. I lied." Alatheia brushes her hand over the grass, taking a deep breath of the cool air. "Had you returned to New Orleans and reunited with Faith, you would have been killed by Miss Summers. I sent you into Caine's hands to isolate you. It needed to be Faith who found you because she would not be able to kill you. She is ruled by her heart."
"You wanted the world to end?"
"It was the only way to give you what you deserve."
"And what is that...precisely?" I ask slowly, afraid to hope for anything at all.
"To live," she says with unexpected compassion, taking my clawed fingers into her hands. "Sleep, eat, have babies, get a dog. To be a man. To have a choice."
Everything seems to be closing in around me and expanding away at the same time. It's overwhelming. Just the idea, the thought. To live and die and be part of the world. To be real. Everything I had believed to be so far beyond my reach that I couldn't even dream. I can't even begin to get a grip on what's happening to me.
"Why?" How have I come to this? What have I done to deserve this?
"You know what they say...Truth shall set you free." Alatheia pulls away as two figures appear. Chronos resumes his perch on the stump. The man with him hesitates as he takes a seat next to me, smiling timidly. Blue eyes, wavy brown hair. It can't be.
"William?" His smile widens, pleased that I've recognized him.
"Pleased to finally meet you, Spike, in the flesh. Or rather, in the spirit. I feel as though I know you so well."
"Yeah." Gruffly, I agree. "Thanks, mate. For...everything."
"My pleasure." William grins excitedly. "Have they told you? About the trade?"
"Trade?"
"I hadn't gotten to that part." Alatheia shakes her head amusedly. "Why don't you tell him?"
"Really? Right then." William straightens his shoulders and fixes those blue eyes on me. "You see, since you're a demon, if they just gave you a body it would look the same as you do now. They have to give you a human body and in order to do that, a human soul has to relinquish the claim on their body. Give it to you, so to speak. Naturally, I've offered mine, since you would already be familiar with it and you had it longer than I did anyway."
I'm speechless. Somehow I think that it's going to be happening to me a lot.
"Of course, our body did turn to dust but Alatheia has assured me that it isn't a problem," he continues, oblivious to my shock. "I don't quite understand how it works myself. A sort of conservation of mass or energy or both."
"Thanatos' contribution. Bringing to life what was dead," Chronos adds in explanation.
Claws dig into the earth, cutting through the dirt like paper. "What about you?"
"I'll go back to the dimension where I resided before I returned to you." He seems unruffled by the idea, as though what he was doing was as commonplace as the sun shining.
"What happens now?" I turn to Alatheia. "What about the world?"
"It is being rebuilt as we speak, with a new balance and a new set of rules." Chronos exchanges a quick, meaningful glance with Alatheia. "There is one choice that you need to make."
"What?"
"We can send you back at a beginning...giving you the entire lifespan from infancy to old age. Or we can send you back at the age of the body at which it died. You will have all of the memories of a human life."
"The catch?"
"None of your own memories. At the most there will be a echoes, dreams, deja vu, nothing substantial and they'll cease completely as you age." Alatheia sighed with a note of regret. "I'm afraid that Caine wasn't happy about having to release you. It was part of the deal."
"So I won't remember anything." I frown as I try to fit that into the picture they've painted for me. "Will I be able to find them again? Find Faith again."
"It's possible but we can't guarantee it."
"But there's a chance."
"Yes."
"Then I'll take it." I can tell by William's ecstatic smile that I made the choice he wanted. Just a few more loose ends I need tied up. "Will I be evil?"
"No. That is Caine's sacrifice." Alatheia shakes her head firmly. "To be capable of animating a living body, you must endure ascension. Take on a new, more pure form before you merge with the human shell. You will have the capacity for both good and evil but you will not be predisposed to either side."
"And the Slayers?"
"The time of Slayers as you know them has come to an end. It is time for the next evolution." Alatheia holds up one hand. "It is not necessary for you to know more than that. You won't remember anything we've said anyway."
"Dawn? What about Dawn?"
"Also safe. We will return her when we return you." Chronos beams as he stands up. "Are you ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be." I get to my feet slowly, a little terrified at what is going to happen next. The sun above me seems to grow and expand, increasing its intensity until I have to close my eyes and duck my head. Holding fast to the dream of a real life, I grit my teeth against the burning sensation spreading through my skin. Any pain, any sacrifice is worth this. Worth the chance to find her and be with her again.
Chronos waited for the signal from Alatheia that meant both Spike and Dawn had returned safely to their world. One finger rose and Time resumed its relentless march forward. Dimensional walls flexed and solidified, blocking passage between the worlds. Earth continued her assault on the remaining demons, swallowing, burning, or driving them back into the depths of shadow. Balance was restored.
Alatheia returned to her cottage, smiling a little sadly as she tucked the last miniature book into the library of her finished castle. Wind danced through the windows and fluttered the tiny flags on the turrets. Time to begin another model. Perhaps a French castle this time. Something hideously ornate that would take at least a few thousand years. For the first time, she didn't feel the same enthusiasm.
"Humanity is a wonderful thing, isn't it?" Chronos asked softly.
She shook her head. "It's a disease. Advancing the evolution of the Slayers so quickly. It wasn't supposed to happen for another five hundred years. Mankind isn't ready."
"It will all work out. Don't worry." He patted her shoulder. "Do you need an extra pair of hands?"
"You could always help me pick out a new one." Dragging a heavy trunk from beneath the table, she dug through stacks of blueprints until she found the plans she hadn't already tried. "There's a Roman basilica, a Vigorian palace...here's a cathedral. French."
"Let's try that one."
"You don't have to help me."
"And you didn't have to help Spike either."
"Nonsense." Alatheia waved him away. "I always defend honest creatures. And anyone who dares stand up to me deserves anything I can do."
"Softie," Chronos chuckled.
"It's the cheekbones." She grinned as his laughter increased.
Chronos wiped his eyes as he settled onto one of the stools, trailing a finger over the battlements. "Caine won't give up."
"He never does. Neither does Joe, for all his niceties and good manners, he's just as ruthless." Alatheia hefted a bucket of dark clay onto the table to begin making the individual bricks. "What about the Key?"
"Fascinating. I believe we might have to add another Incarnation to our ranks...someday. When she's ready."
"Will there be side effects of her being here?"
"Possibly. It will be a little closer to the surface, a bit more accessible. Nothing we need to worry about."
"Good. I can only take a crisis like this every billion years or so. Thank whoever I'm supposed to be thanking...probably me...that the world should do fine by itself for at least another million millennia."
"Yes. It does afford some peace of mind." Chronos paused thoughtfully. "What exactly was the loophole, Alatheia? If you don't mind my asking, of course."
"Intent."
"How so?"
"A grand and noble gesture is easier than personal sacrifice. Joe appreciates those who give themselves for the world but it isn't always the purest of motives and rarely impresses the rest of us."
"And?"
"He didn't do it for the world, Chronos. He did it for her."
"The Slayer?"
Alatheia nodded. "He had to win the loyalty of all of the Incarnations. Even Caine, in his own way, proved to be loyal to the vampire by saving his life again and again. I'm sure he isn't happy knowing that he helped make all this possible."
"Who did he win over by sacrificing himself for the Slayer?"
"The hardest of us all to please. Thanatos." She smiled, searching for a place to put the finished castle and clear enough working space for the next project.
"What will happen to Spike?"
"He'll get by, he always does. And William will watch over him. He's quite fond of the demon actually, such a tender heart." She paused as she organized her tools. "Did Ares really do it for a girl?"
"Absolutely. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was in love."
"Poor sod. Relationships between Incarnations and mortals never work out. Should we remind him what happened the last time Death took a holiday? Broke his stone cold heart."
"He'll be fine." Chronos frowned as he inspected his trowel. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Why don't you just keep me company? I'll even zap you all the martinis you want."
"That would be lovely."
"And you won't have to pick clay out of your beard for the rest of eternity."
"Very considerate of you."
"That's me. Incarnation of Consideration." She winked mischievously and dove into her brick making.
Faith had never understood the desolation of a vampire's fate, the absolute nothing that was left behind. She'd taken it for granted. Vamps dusted and that meant no messy clean up afterward; no bodies to dismember or burn, just walk away and let them disappear. Now it felt cruel and empty, taking away anything that might have served as a reminder. Shivering, she wrapped her arms over her bare chest and glanced around the room. She felt numb. Hollow. Her t-shirt was beyond salvage, he'd ripped it down the center. He always had been impatient with clothes. Luckily, she'd gotten his shirt off with minimal damage during their roll and tumble across the floor. Trembling, she slipped the soft fabric over her arms. It was too large and ripped in several places. Didn't matter. It had been his and now it was all she had.
Tired, she returned to the patch of dust on the ground and curled up beside it. One fingertip touched down on the rough floor, tracing a pattern in the dust. Vaguely, she was aware that drawing in someone's ashes was morbid but she didn't care. There was nothing left to care about in the whole wide world. It had been him all along. Her Spike. It had been him. Now he was gone and she was alone. Outside, the howling of the wind eventually faded into silence. She could almost feel it, could taste the emptiness as it poured into her and leeched away all warmth and life.
The sound of boots broke through the silence. She registered the noise without understanding what it meant. Meaningless noise and vibrations through the concrete. Voices somewhere in the distance.
"Faith? Are you okay? Faith?" Someone was talking to her.
She looked up into concerned brown eyes. Camouflage pants, body armor, rifle. There was a stake on the man's belt. She blinked. It couldn't be him.
"Slayer?"
"Riley?" she breathed. Captain America. Wouldn't Spike love the irony? Wouldn't Buffy just die when she saw him? Small world. And getting smaller.
"Faith, focus on my voice. Where's Spike? Is he here?"
"There's nothing left." Her finger stopped moving and she stared at the dust on her skin. "He's gone."
"Let's get her out of here. I think she's in shock."
Not shock. Just empty. Everything slipped out her ears and into the dust on the floor where Spike was. She didn't want to leave him all alone. It was cold there and he would be lonely. Strong hands were lifting her up; she couldn't make her legs move. Jello legs, wobbling and bending when they weren't supposed to. Stupid legs. Stupid hands...not fast enough. Not fast enough to stop him. God, someone stop him. Please. She didn't want to be empty.
"Sir?" One of the men looked back at his leader.
"Go on. I'll find someone to take care of her...a friend." Riley was staring at the ground. Dust was scattered in the irregular pattern that he recognized as the remnants of a vampire. In the center, Faith had drawn the shape of a heart with a jagged crack down the middle.
Cara wiped demon goo off of her arm and pulled a face. The sewers were flooded and demons who normally kept to themselves had come slithering out of the depths to snatch and terrify the residents as they ventured out of their homes. At least the storms appeared to be over and the sun was trying to shine through the clouds again.
"Hey, Wes. Any more down there?" Gunn called through the opening of the access tunnel.
"I don't think so. We'll do one more sweep before heading back."
Cara nodded and transferred the dagger to her left hand to give her right arm a rest. Water tugged at her legs as she followed Wesley down another side tunnel in search of a few more monsters to kill. He was different than the Watchers she remembered at the Academy. Although they didn't actually spend a lot of time in conversation, she knew that everything he said was something he felt was important. Mostly weapons and demon related. She knew he was pleased with her knowledge of demon species and languages. Her fighting upset him, she knew that too. She'd seen the haunted expression on his face. Someday, she'd ask him why.
He had an edge. She'd noticed that almost immediately. Even among those he considered friends, he was reserved and at first she had thought she saw insecurity in his aloofness. After watching the group fight together, she had realized that he kept them at a distance not because he was insecure but because he didn't quite fit into their dynamic. There was an almost tangible history between him and Fred. When Gunn wasn't with Gwen, the tension seemed to spread to him as well. It was the darkness in Wesley set him apart from the others and gave Cara hope that he might understand the world through her eyes.
"Look out!"
She had been so tangled in her thoughts that she hadn't sensed the squid-like creature hissing through the tunnels. A muscled tentacle shot toward her, stinging spines dripping poison as they drove toward her chest. And collided with Wesley. The long knife flipped in her hand and she severed the tentacle with a quick slice. The creature began to retreat. Following the shimmering eyes, she hurled the dagger into the darkness, rewarded with a satisfying wail as it embedded itself into one of the monster's eyes.
Splashing and coughing called her back to the main tunnel. Dipping her arms into the water, she pulled a stumbling Wesley toward the edge of the tunnel. His shoulder was bleeding and several spines continued to pump their poison into his bloodstream. With a frown, she ripped his shirt away from the wound and took hold of the chunk of tentacle still stuck to him.
"Scream if you need to." She glanced at him briefly, pinning his arm firmly to the brick and pressing her knee against his chest to keep him in one place. The look in his eyes told her that he was going to try his best not to cry out when she yanked the spines from his flesh. He still did. Placing the bloody chunk of tentacle on a jagged ledge, she bit down on the end of the flashlight and started on the stingers. Pinch at the ends to stop the flow of poison. Twist, yank. Sweat was pouring down his face by the time she removed the last one from his flesh. She tucked the flashlight back into a pocket and the piece of tentacle into another.
"Will that be enough? For the antidote." Wesley shivered violently.
"Should be. Depends on how much poison you got." Taking hold of his good arm, she hoisted him to his feet and began the trek back to the exit tunnel. "Why did you do that?"
"Just trying to help, Slayer." He coughed, struggling to stay on his feet.
"I could have dodged."
"Remind me not to save your life again."
"You could die."
"I won't."
"You could." Cara frowned as he staggered against her. She'd seen him take blows meant for Gunn or Fred, always trying to help. Always trying to save the people around him. But they were his friends and it was obvious that he cared about them. Blood glistened as it dripped down his arm, mingling with the dark green of the poison. He had tried to save her. No one had ever tried to save her before. He didn't even know her. It didn't make any sense at all and contradicted everything she knew about Watchers.
Sunlight broke around them as she half dragged, half carried him out of the sewers. Gunn was long gone and they were several miles from Angel Investigations. Easing him down onto the dirt, she inspected the deceptively tiny wounds more carefully. His skin was already pale and clammy, taking on a greenish cast in the bright light. There wasn't enough time. He needed the antidote now.
"Cell phone." He gagged, throat constricting due to the toxins in his blood.
Cara searched through his pockets quickly, locating the phone and tapping in the correct sequence of numbers. It rang once. Twice. Three times. The answering machine kicked in and Fred's cheerful voice beamed through the static. "No answer."
"They're not...back yet." Wesley winced, trying to get a look at the wound.
Cara ripped off a piece of his shirt and dabbed at the wound gently. "You'll be dead in fifteen minutes."
"Thank you for that vote of confidence."
"It was stupid."
"What can I say?" He tried to smile. "Never been much of a Watcher."
"What do you mean?"
"Most Watchers," he stopped to gasp for air. "Watch their Slayers die without...being able to do...anything. Better this way."
"How is this better?" she demanded, frustrated and confused.
"Watchers should be willing...to do...anything...for their Slayers."
"You don't even know me."
"I know all I need...to know. Cara."
Cara bit down, grinding her teeth together. She hadn't saved anyone. The family in Ohio had been slaughtered just like the others and now she had failed again. Failed to save another innocent. A man who had been trying to save her. Stupid man, stupid Watcher. Angrily, she flipped the phone open again and hit the redial button, tucking it into his hand.
"Keep trying to reach them," she ordered and headed back into the sewers.
"Where...are you?" His voice disappeared in a fit of coughing.
"To test a theory."
Water splashed around her as she ran through the tunnels. Right, right, left, straight. There was the line of broken bricks that had served as a ledge. Fishing out the flashlight, she crept into the tunnel where the demon had come from. Dark eyes glittered lifelessly through the water. With a grimace, she reached down through the mud and filth, grabbing onto the base of the nearest tentacle where there shouldn't be any spines. Rough skin met her fingers and she yanked the body up through the water, pulling it behind her until she reached the crossroads again. The head resembled a lumpy cabbage, spotted with eye patches that swirled and sparkled under the light. Flipping it over, she found the telltale markings of a female. Yanking her dagger out of the creature's head, she cut into the soft underbelly, spilling guts and blood over her hands. If the Council information was correct, the females carried glands that produced a freezing agent to protect their young until they developed a natural immunity to the poison in their mother's body.
Two egg-shaped masses slipped through her fingers. Gingerly, she sliced the tendons holding them and secured them in one of her pockets. Next, she dug through the carcass for the heart; it would contain the most blood. So far so good. She hurried back through the tunnels, ignoring the thick fluid dripping down her hand and fingers.
Wesley was pale as death in the sunlight, the phone sitting loosely in his hand. As Cara knelt beside him, she heard Fred's voice through the small speaker, begging him to hang on. Steeling herself, she cut away the rest of his t-shirt and wrapped her hands around the demon heart, dripping blood onto the wound. His eyes fluttered open and he moaned.
"What?" he rasped, fingers shaking as he tried to raise his arm.
"Chaol Water demons carry their young internally and the females produce antibodies against their own poison." There was the barest hint of a nod. "You'll still need the antidote but this might slow it down." Pulling out the plump glands, she slit one open and dripped white pus onto his bloody shoulder.
"Bloody...hell." Wesley hissed through clenched teeth. "Why don't...you just...kill me?"
"Stop talking. You're wasting energy." Cara emptied the second gland onto the wounds, forcing the ooze into the damaged flesh. "Almost done."
"What's left?" he gasped. "Lemon juice?"
"Not quite." She wiped the wounds clean again and took a deep breath. Holding her left hand open, she drove the dagger through the center of her palm. Tears sprung to her eyes involuntarily as she pulled the blade back through the bleeding hole. Pressing her hand firmly against his wounds, she watched as her blood began to seep into the angry flesh. Wesley was screaming.
Cara shuddered, pain shooting up her arm as she watched him, searching for any sign that her gamble was paying off. After he stopped howling, his eyes closed and his head fell to the side as he passed out, but there was a hint of color returning to his skin. If he could just hold on long enough to get back. There weren't any records of this having worked, there weren't any records of anyone having tried. Just a theory. If the milky substance produced by the mother acted as a substitute for the ingredients in the antidote and if she'd gotten it into his body soon enough. If the part of her blood that made her a Slayer would keep him strong enough to hold on.
Biting her lip, she settled onto the ground next to him, sliding behind him so her arm could wrap around his chest. Supporting most of his weight against her torso, she laid her forehead against the wounded shoulder, flexing her fingers to keep the blood trickling out of her hand. The sun warmed the back of her neck. Just hold on, she prayed. His heartbeat was faint in her ear. Please don't die. Please don't die. She'd never had her own Watcher. Never had a Watcher who was willing to die for her. She didn't want to fail him the way she had failed the family in Ohio.
Screeching tires broke through the stillness and she looked up to see Gunn's Jeep slide around the corner, spraying dirt and gravel. He bolted from the car the second it came to a stop and rushed toward them.
"Fred's brewing up some go-go juice, all we need is some flesh." Gunn checked Wesley's pulse.
"I've got it." Cara nodded and untangled herself from Wesley, looping her arms under his shoulders and helping Gunn carry the unconscious man to the car.
"Did it get you too?" Gunn motioned to her hand as he climbed into the car.
"No. I tried to slow the spread of the poison." Cara pulled the seatbelt over her shoulder and popped open the glove box. The first aid kit tumbled out as Gunn tore away from the vacant lot. Wishing for a roll of duct tape, she dug out the bandages and gauze, wrapping her hand tightly.
"Glad they taught you all this demonology stuff in Slayer school."
Cara braced herself as Gunn ran a stoplight and spun into a left turn. "It's useful."
"How long you figure he's got?"
"He'll make it," she snapped.
"Sorry...just askin'." Gunn glanced at her curiously. "Not that I'm ready for Wes to kick the bucket any time soon. Figured you'd tell me if he was."
"He has to make it," she answered simply, turning her face to the window. Since leaving the Academy, she'd done nothing but fail. Her duty as a Slayer was to save people. If she couldn't save them, why be a Slayer at all? Why even try?
"I told him to leave that nest for later. Cha-Cha's are nasty buggers when they're breeding."
"Cha-Cha?"
"What we call those things." Gunn shuddered. "Lotsa eyes and tentacles with barbs on 'em?"
She frowned, glancing back at Wesley. He hadn't told her that he was aware of a nest. "Yes."
"That's a Cha-Cha. Don't know what they're called but they make that weird noise as they move...cha cha cha...you know." He glanced in the rearview mirror. "He's been so gung-ho with all this Slayer Watcher quality time that he's gotten sloppy."
"It's my fault," she whispered, feeling something inside her sink.
"No way." He shook his head decisively. "Wes just needs to prove that he can be the best Watcher there is. Making up for Faith, I guess." He slammed on the brakes and threw the car into park as they pulled up to the door of Angel Investigations. "Not that Faith's a bad Slayer. Sure, she had a rough spot for a bit but last time I saw her...man...she's one tough bitch. And I mean that in a good way."
Cara listened numbly as she lifted Wesley over her shoulder, carrying him into the building. Fred and Lorne had set up blankets on the ground and Fred was waiting with a blender. After easing Wesley onto the floor, Cara handed over the chunk of the tentacle.
"I'll just...chop this up." Fred pulled a face as she sliced off bits of the meat and dropped them into the blender. "And I thought these were only good for margaritas." She laughed weakly as she blended up the ingredients and poured the thick, gooey liquid into a cup.
"I'll do it." Cara took the mug from Fred and knelt down beside Wesley. Gently, she lifted his head and pressed the edge of the mug against his lips. Eyelashes fluttered as the antidote began to drip into his mouth and down his throat. Come on, Wesley, she urged silently as he began to swallow it down. When he had drained the mug, she reached for the bandages and towels Fred had waiting.
Wiping his wounds gently with a damp towel, she cleaned away all the blood and pus before taping sections of gauze over the torn skin and muscle. Once finished, she settled into a comfortable position to wait for him to wake up. She felt numb and tired at the same time. So many demons, so much blood. There had to be more to life than that. More to being a Slayer. Wearily, she began wiping down the blade of her knife. Always keep your weapons in good shape. They are all that stand between you and death. But it wasn't true. Her weapons hadn't protected her in the tunnels, Wesley had.
"Cara? Your hand." Fred sat down beside her and reached hesitantly for her hand. "Do you need anything for it?"
"No. Thank you."
"He'll be fine now. If you'd like to get cleaned up or something."
"No." Cara shook her head. "I'll stay here."
"We can come tell you when he wakes up. I mean, you really don't have to sit here and wait. He's safe with us."
"No," she repeated forcefully. "He's my Watcher. I will protect him." She didn't notice the smile that lit up Fred's face or the triumphant look exchanged between Lorne and Gunn. Her attention was on Wesley.
"World's still there." Jane peered through her kitchen curtains. "In fact, it's a beautiful sunshiny day in southern California. I say we call in sick and head to the beach."
Xander opened his mouth to give her some sort of excuse and changed his mind. "Sounds like a plan. A glorious, sunburned, sand between your toes plan."
He was between projects anyway and his schedule was blissfully meeting free for the next two days. A quick stop back to his apartment and a check up at Casa Summers was all he needed to get done. Tapping the coffee mug in his hands softly, he watched her unload the dishwasher, stopping to brush her hair out of her face every few seconds. She seemed to take the world in stride. Demons, no problem, she'd deal. End of the world, no problem, she'd deal. Whatever came up, it didn't get her down. Do what you can and forget the rest, she said. It was a breath of fresh air in Xander's life, knowing that he could tell her stories without frightening her. She was amazingly hard to scare. And he loved the way she cuddled Bugsy, kissing and hugging the cat with unabashed affection.
It was a new experience for Xander to be viewed and touched with such easy warmth. A brush of her hand, a squeeze for no reason, a kiss on the cheek just because. She would be a wonderful mother, he thought absently. Understanding, compassionate, firm. And that was a train of thought that could strike fear in the hearts of even the most intrepid of Xanders. He shook it away, trying to pull back the calm happiness that he had basked in earlier.
They'd spent the hours talking and playing games until they had fallen asleep side by side on her bed. He'd woken to find her curled up like a cat beside him and a pair of curious feline eyes watching him from the pillow. Once he got past the amazement that he'd just spent a night with a beautiful woman that hadn't had anything to do with sex, he laid back down with a contented smile on his face and scratched Bugsy's ears for awhile. Beautiful, fast as a whip, and attitude to go with it. What was it about Sunnydale that attracted independent, feisty females? Extra bonus, the humanity factor. No howling at the moon, vengeance tendencies, or the pesky habit of eating the male after mating.
Jane was smiling as she waved a hand in front of his face. "Earth to Xander."
"Yeah. I'm here, Houston. Thinking that I'm glad you decided to come here. To Sunnydale." He chuckled at his lame response and set down the mug.
"I'm glad too. Now I'm assuming you need to check in with your not so much with the humanity type friends and that you'll call me when you're ready to head for sand and surf."
"Read my mind." Xander kissed her forehead quickly. "I'll be back in a New York minute. How long is a New York minute anyway?"
"On the grounds that neither of us have the slightest idea, we'll skip that lovely metaphor and settle for something more traditional. Which you can pick and choose at your leisure. Granted, you won't have much of it before I get back."
"Assuming you ever leave." She winked as she pushed him toward the front door.
"You're not getting rid of me so you can pack and leave the country, are you?"
"You're not that lucky."
"And you don't have a seal with a goat's head on it in the basement?"
"Just dust bunnies and boxes of comic books."
"Really? Which ones?"
"Go." Smiling, she kissed his cheek quickly and closed the door behind him.
Xander tucked his hands into his pockets and started down the street, whistling cheerfully. Life was good. Sunnydale had been washed clean with the extra large power sprayer of nature and everything that wasn't nailed down had been pilfered by the stealthy hands of the wind; leaving shining asphalt and glistening flora all around. Add the super sized dosage of sunny goodness and there wasn't much more anyone could do to make the morning better. Of course, hearing that all his friends were alive and well wouldn't hurt, which was why he hurried through the motions once he arrived at his apartment. Shower, change, pack a bag with sunscreen, shorts, and beach towels. A couple lawn chairs tossed into the back seat of his car was the final touch and he headed across town, hair still dripping water down the back of his neck.
The Summers home was a haven of familiarity. Buffy had been experimenting with some new flower layouts, something that had surprised everyone. Given her talent for culinary disasters, not one of her friends had expected the leafy green things to respond to the Slayer's touch. When she turned out to have a knack for the botanical world, they'd silently cheered because it gave Buffy something to do outside of slaying and school. As strong as Buffy was and as hard as she tried to pretend that's all there was, they knew that buried under all that Slayerness was the shy, sensitive Buffy trying to hide. Dawn was the strongest advocate of her new hobby and had bought her sister a set of California Gardening books for Christmas. Whatever did a Buffy good.
"Hey, G-man." Xander grinned as the front door swung open. "You're looking bushy eyed and bright tailed."
"You're very lucky the world isn't going to end, Xander. I still don't want you to call me that."
"Wait...world not ending? When did that happen?" He stepped inside and closed the door. "Did I miss the memo? Cause I was entertaining a lady friend last night and might not have gotten the message."
"Yes. Willow is quite angry that you weren't home. She left several messages."
"Oh. Well now I'm feeling the guilt." Xander took in the state of the living room. It looked like a tornado had blown through, scattering books and papers everywhere.
Lounging easily on the couch, Cordelia yawned sleepily and glanced up from her coffee mug. "Hey, Xan."
"How'd patrol finish up without me?"
"The usual. Dusty and bloody. I broke a nail."
"All my sympathy." He moved a pile of books to sit down beside her. "So fill me in on the world savage scoop. Buffy versus the Big Evil, what's the score now? Thirty two to zero?"
"Actually, I believe we have Faith to thank for this one." Giles began polishing his glasses. "Iverson reported this morning that the dimensional vibrations have ceased and that a joint retrieval team found Faith in an abandoned warehouse shortly after dawn. Her only statement was that Spike was gone. There was evidence to suggest that a vampire had been killed."
"Ouch." Xander was grateful he hadn't ever had to make that kind of choice. "Sucks to be her right now. Have you heard from Buffy?"
"Yes. They're going to bring Faith back here. Try to help her. According to Willow, she's completely unresponsive." The Watcher began stacking books and straightening folders. "I can only hope that there's something we can do for her."
"And that this doesn't snap her and send her back into homicidal maniac land," Cordy added bluntly.
"There is that," Giles admitted.
"You don't really think she will? I mean, after all she's been through." Xander frowned and shook his head. "She probably just needs time. I didn't start killing people after Anya died."
"Willow did after Tara was killed," Cordy pointed out.
"Tara was murdered by Warren. If Faith killed Spike..." Xander trailed off, organizing his thoughts. "I just think that maybe we should be more worried about Faith hurting Faith."
"Which is why I advised Buffy and Willow to bring her back here. Where she is among friends. Or at least, not enemies."
"Bring on the Faith support group. Total membership...one." Cordy shook her head. "Because Buffy's really the only person who knows how it feels to murder your boyfriend and she only sent him to hell anyway."
"Who went to hell?" Angel blinked tiredly as he rounded the corner, clothes wrinkled and hair more chaotic than usual. "The whispering is gone."
"Apocalypse averted compliments of our gal Faith," Xander explained.
"She killed Spike." Cordy glanced at Xander quickly. "Buffy's bringing her back. Maybe you can help her, Angel. She came to you the last time she had a breakdown."
"When will they be back?"
"A few days. Willow was hoping they could leave New Orleans this afternoon. They're anxious to get home." Giles rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I'll be relieved to finally get a good night's sleep."
"We'll stay until they get back." Angel headed for the kitchen to get blood.
"That's our Angel. Always doing the noble thing." Cordy sighed and turned her attention back to sipping her coffee.
Xander raised his eyebrows. "But you love him that way, right?"
"Of course." She tossed her ponytail over one shoulder carelessly. "That's what makes him Angel."
"But you don't love...love him...as in moment of happiness love, right? Cause not only is that big with the creepy, it's also all sorts of badness."
"And your type is?"
"I'll start with, I don't know, alive."
"Just asking." Xander raised his hands in a gesture meant to convey peaceful intentions. "Wondering. Cause you know, two people working together, feelings develop."
"Who have you been talking to?"
"No one."
"Who?"
"Fred might have mentioned something about you two having a thing. She didn't say what type of thing...just a thing."
"She is so dead when I get back to L.A." Cordy sighed again. "We had a thing. For a while. Didn't work. And we're good now, thank you."
"Let me guess. Clothing style incompatibility. You're a Spring line and he's down with the black, black, and oh, there's a dark gray."
"I slept with his son."
"That'll do it," Xander squeaked, eyes widening as he remembered their conversation on the porch. "That's what you meant when you said...oh. Well. On that happy, and oddly incestuous note, I'm going to head to the beach for an afternoon of fun in the sun."
"Don't get burned...too badly."
"Ahh, Cordy, didn't you know cared."
"I don't. I just don't want to listen to you whine about it later."
"You two haven't changed at all." Giles smiled, shaking his head indulgently. "I'm going to get some sleep. Don't wake me up unless the world is ending, again. Actually...not even then. I'd rather sleep through it."
"No problem, Giles. I'll man the phones with his Broodiness."
"I heard that," Angel retorted over a jar of blood as he returned.
"Damn vamp hearing."
"I'm guessing you two want some alone time." Willow smiled nervously, backing away from Buffy and Riley. "I'll just check on Dawn. And Faith. I'm sure they need me."
"Thanks, Will." Buffy smiled tightly and turned back to Riley.
Willow hurried across the lounge of the club to the booth where Dawn was sitting with Faith. She hadn't said a word since Riley and his team had brought her to Sanctuary. Not even Verek had managed to get a reaction from her. She just stared into space, occasionally looking down at her hands with a vague expression of horror on her face.
"Crazy, isn't it?" Dawn whispered, motioning to her sister. "After all this time, he just shows up here."
"I guess the Council has gone public about the existence of demons. In case the world ended and they couldn't deny it anymore." Willow took a seat next to Faith, trying not to make any sudden moves that might startle her. "Riley was part of the task force they sent to England, since he kinda already knew about demons anyway. They sent him back to track Spike down and kill him."
"Bet he loved getting those orders."
"He didn't seem unpleased with them, that's for sure."
"Probably mad that Faith beat him to it," Dawn huffed, glowering across the room.
"You okay, Dawnie? I know you cared about Spike and he was kinda a friend to you after Buffy died." Willow's eyes were suspiciously bright.
"Still hasn't sunk in that he won't be coming back." Her voice caught for a moment as it almost managed to register. She pushed it away. "I'm going to stay in denial land for a bit more, do the whole - he died for the greater good so let's celebrate his martyrdom - bullshit. Probably until we get into the car. Then I'll fall apart."
"Sounds like a plan."
"So the whole world knows about vampires and stuff?" Dawn changed the subject quickly before she could dwell on Spike's death. No. Not dead. Just not here. Out somewhere, safe from the sun and pointy wooden things. Just until she got into the car. Then she could break. She had to be strong for Faith and Buffy.
"The governments at least. And Riley said that the President wants to meet the Slayers."
"Can anyone say Initiative: The Sequel?"
"I hope not." Willow shuddered at the memory. "But I don't think Iverson would just hand the Slayers over to the military. They probably only came clean because they figured Buffy would need help fighting all the extra creepy crawlies that we've been seeing. Riley said his team has been fighting almost nonstop for days. The bad weather has helped, made the demons all sluggish and miserable. That and being fried by lightning tends to slow them down."
"Gives me the wiggins."
"I know. How are you feeling?"
"Right as rain." Dawn answered with more confidence than she felt. "I can't really remember all that much, lots of green, but that's not unusual for me. Being Key, comma The, and all. I wish I could remember it. I bet it was totally cool."
"At least you're all right. We were worried." Willow reached out to squeeze the girl's hand.
"I noticed." Dawn grinned wickedly and nodded to the empty glasses. "How many drinks did Buffy have?"
"Don't ask!" Willow laughed. "But it's safe to say, I had twice as many. We figured, what the hell, world's gonna end...might as well meet it with a vodka soaked haze."
"And I'm the supposed to be the irresponsible one." Dawn rolled her eyes. "I'm totally ready to go home though. No more road trips for a very long time. If we could fly back, I'd absolutely say yes."
"Verek's good with the portal hopping, maybe he can make one big enough to drive through."
"God, I hope so. Another day in a car with Buffy and I'll need the vodka." She was not looking forward to spending more time in the back seat of Willow's car. At least she wouldn't be shaking and bleeding this time around. "Have you talked to Giles?"
"As soon as Faith got here, I gave him a ring." Willow picked at a piece of lint on her shirt, watching as the exchange between Buffy and Riley got more animated. Buffy looked angry. "You should have heard the messages I left on Xander's machine."
"Short but heartfelt?"
"More like long and drunken ramblings in which I chewed him out for not being there so I could do a dramatic, sobbing goodbye in person." She shook her head with embarrassment. "He's never going to let me live it down."
"Here she comes." Dawn straightened in the booth, biting her lower lip nervously as Buffy approached them. "Hey, Buff. How's the boyfriend reunion?"
"You will not believe what Iverson told the President of the United States." Buffy fumed as she sat down, glaring at Riley's retreating back. "I have been given an executive order to breed."
Willow blinked with surprise. "What?"
"Apparently, the Slayer lines now end with me, Faith, and Cara. So they want us to get busy with the baby train." She shook her head with disbelief. "They've offered to pay for all pre-natal, fertility, and childcare costs. Can you believe them? I can't even get a boyfriend whose swimmers haven't been dead for more than a hundred years. How do they expect me to breed?"
Dawn tried to keep from laughing. It didn't work. Dissolving into giggles, she abandoned all hope, laughing until her sides ached and tears streamed down her face. Soon enough, Buffy's frown faded and she began to chuckle. Laughing too hard to breathe, she brushed at her eyes, trying to regain control of herself.
"Not funny." Buffy gasped between fits of giggles. "It's really not."
"I know." Willow hiccupped. "It's just...I don't know...so..." She gave up and laughed until she couldn't laugh anymore.
"Home then?" Buffy asked when she had finally calmed down.
"All packed and ready to go."
Buffy sobered as she turned to Faith, reaching out to touch her hand softly. "You're safe now. You're with friends. We'll take care of you this time. I promise."
Willow smiled sadly, pulling Faith with her as she got up. "I'll take her out to the car. Come on, Faith."
"Bags?" Buffy reached out to take Dawn's hand.
"Over there. Guess it's pack horse duty for us."
"Yep." She smiled at her younger sister. "Love you, Dawnie."
Dawn wrapped her arms around Buffy's waist. "Loves you more."
"Don't leave me again, ok?"
"Cross my heart."