Drip. Drip. Drip.

The rain gradually turned off like a faucet, leaving the broken city in a quiet darkness. Buildings were burned, torn down. The streets were charred. The stench of death hung in every corner of L.A.

Still the heroes lived on.

They regrouped in the remains of what used to be the Wolfram and Hart building. Angel, Gunn, Illyria, Spike…and Willow.

"When I heard you guys were in trouble down here…well, my mind didn't even register 'dragon,'" she said. "Luckily, the coven was able to help out at the last minute."

"Yeah, nice work Red, saving us in the nick of time," Spike said, gingerly rubbing his neck. "Still, I feel a little cheated here. It was supposed to our big fight, you know? Our shining moment of heroism, whatever that means."

Willow rolled her eyes. "Well, sorry if I bruised your manly ego. Maybe next time I'll let you die horrible and painful deaths without any interruptions."

Angel spoke up. "Hey, you don't know that we would have died," he said defensively. "We were winning."

Gunn grimaced, clearly in the most pain. "Yeah, tell that to my internally bleeding insides."

"You will live," Illyria said solemnly and abruptly.

Willow looked around at the group, satisfied that they were all okay. "I wish I could stay longer guys, but, there's this thing, that I uh, have to take care of…"

Angel nodded. "Go ahead. We'll be fine. Thanks for the save."

Something suddenly occurred to Spike. "Buffy…"

Willow turned to look at him and smiled. "Yeah, I'll say to her for you, and tell her you're alive."

"No! No…that's not what…" Spike sighed. "Don't tell her."

Willow furrowed her eyebrows, confused. "Okay. But I'm not so good with the secret-keeping, so don't get all fangy if it slips out somehow."

Buffy did some stretches in her apartment in Rome. She was ready for a good workout after eating a huge dinner a few hours before. The phone rang.

"Hey, Buffy, it's me."

Buffy smiled. "Willow! What's up?"

"Nothing. I took care of some stuff back in…it was nothing. But you know how I've been sensing some evil energy lately?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I think I finally figured out where it's coming from. And that means you've got to get back here."

Buffy shrugged. "Sure. Dawn's rooming at her school, so I can probably get to California by tomorrow."

"Uh, Buffy? Aren't you forgetting about a certain guy you were dating not a few days ago?"

"You mean the Immortal?" Buffy sat on her bed, still holding the receiver to her ear. "You know, that actually turned out to be a casual thing."

"You mean you actually had a relationship that didn't turn out to be angsty, evil, or dead in any way?" Willow asked in mock surprise.

"Yup!" Buffy announced triumphantly. "I am a casual dater. Anyway, it wasn't going to be a long-term relationship, so we just ended it very peaceable-like. No feelings harmed in the process."

Willow clucked her tongue. "I'm so proud of you. See you tomorrow."

Buffy put down the phone and walked over to her punching bag. Going back to L.A.? No problem. Seeing Angel again, however, posed some problems. Oh well, she thought. I'll work it out when I get there.

She slammed her fist into the bag.

Spike took a swig of beer. He sat in a nearly empty demon bar that had somehow survived in the battle. Angel told him that he needed some time alone. Well, bugger him. Spike knew that what Angel really needed was to hear that Wesley's death wasn't his fault. That Lorne was going to be okay, wherever he was. That the battle had meant something.

But here Spike was, drowning his thoughts in a pint. As he downed the last few drops of the golden liquid, he caught a glimpse of somebody walking through the door. A girl. Shimmering, blond hair.

His heart leapt in spite of himself, and he knew before looking at her face that she wasn't his girl, his Slayer. Spike shook his head, disgusted at himself.

"Time to move on, you poor excuse for a vampire," he said to himself out loud. There was only one thing he could count on in this dead city he helped create, and that was the fact that Buffy was never going to come bursting through the door, professing her love for him. She was of the past. And he was ready to move on.