So sorry for the delay. Time got away from me. But this story is finally finished. Woohoo! I'm posting both the last chapter and the epilogue today.
As Buffy emerged from the portal, she saw Spike throw his cloak over his head and scamper to the trees. Steam billowed in his wake as he skidded to a stop in the shade.
"No no no no," Willow said, hands fluttering wildly.
Buffy started to reassure her, but a shove from behind sent her staggering. She spun round to see Faith grinning at her.
"Sorry, B. You were hogging the road."
Willow stumbled over to the slayers and pawed at them, trying to propel them back through the portal. "You guys have to go back!"
"Hey, not so grabby, Red," Faith said.
Buffy ignored Willow's efforts, her attention caught by the sight of Xander galloping towards the noticeably smaller portal. She rushed to stand directly in front of the doorway, holding her hands up.
"Xander, no!"
He kept coming, his face contorted with fear and desperation. Buffy's resolve teetered. Part of her wanted him with them -- he'd more than earned it -- but all she could see was his missing eye; the price he'd paid for his loyalty. She couldn't bear it if he got hurt like that again.
Like a gift from the gods, Angel moved into her field of vision. In a blur of motion he tackled Xander to the ground, bringing them to a sliding halt. Xander fought back. His elbow connected with Angel's jaw and he might have broken free if Connor hadn't joined the fray. Together, father and son easily subdued Xander. His outraged yells tore at her heart as Buffy retreated to stand between Faith and a tearful but quiet Willow.
Buffy watched the portal diminish, her throat aching. She understood; he had Connor to consider. And, besides, it wasn't as if she really needed him. Nope, not at all. Yet not until the hovering circle was less than a metre across did she accept that Angel had chosen to stay with his son. She closed her eyes.
Faith's cry of surprise made Buffy snap her eyes open in time to see a cloaked figure dive through the circle, the cloak sizzling as it grazed the shrinking boundary of the portal. Without slowing the figure dodged the three women and sprinted for the trees.
Not daring to trust her senses, Buffy held her breath as whoever it was stopped next to Spike and pushed back the hood. When she saw Angel wipe his forehead, a happy tingly warmth spread through her chest. But she didn't have long to enjoy the sensation.
With startling force Willow jerked her around. She was shaking. "Are you crazy? What do you think you're doing?"
Buffy gripped Willow's arms. "Don't wig on me now, Will."
"But, Buffy, I don't know if I can protect you. Oh God, the radiation. You'll get cancer!" She cast an anguished glance at the now miniscule portal.
Following her gaze, Buffy saw the portal vanish in a flare of light. "Actually, cancer's looking like the best case scenario right about now."
"Why did you have to come back?" Willow said, green eyes glistening.
"Because I'm the slayer," Buffy said. Faith cleared her throat. Loudly. Twisting her head, Buffy shot her an annoyed glance, but said, "I mean, a slayer. This is our fight as much as it is yours."
"No, it's not." Willow's lower lip quivered. "I don't want you here. I don't want you to see--" She looked away.
Willow's unexpected rejection stung. Sure, Buffy had expected some crankiness, maybe even a hissy fit or two, but not this level of hostility. After a moment she released Willow, but didn't back down. "If it'd been me left behind you would've been the first one back through the portal, so how about you dial down the Shatner."
Cheeks flushed, Willow glanced at Faith, then Angel and Spike, and back to Buffy. "This is different."
"How?"
"Because you're making this harder than it has to be. Because you'll distract me and make me screw up."
Buffy's mouth fell open. For the first time doubt crept into her heart. Was Willow right? Had she made the situation worse? She didn't know what to say.
"I don't think so, Willow," Angel called. The three women looked at him. "The way I look at it, we're the distraction that's going to give you time to work."
Balling her fists, Willow stomped towards the trees, trailed at a safe distance by the slayers. The redheaded witch glared at Angel.
"I didn't need you to do that. I had everything covered!" she said. He gave her a sceptical look. "Okay, maybe not covered in the strictest sense, but I would've...improvised!"
"This is my town. If anyone's gonna die here, it's gonna be me," Angel said, unrepentant. His mouth curved into a sly smile. "Besides, this is what I do."
Willow's eyes narrowed. "Okay, first off, throwing my own words back in my face is just plain rude. And second, what about Connor?"
"Connor can take care of himself."
"How would you know? You've spent all of what, five minutes with him?"
"Willow," he said, face tightening, "you don't want to go down this road."
Buffy winced, but Willow was in full flight and not to be denied her righteous indignation. "You twit! You finally have a chance to live a life with your son and you give it up. For what? To come back here and play the hero?"
"You tell him, Red," crowed Spike.
Willow scowled at him. "And you. This is all your fault. You're the one who put the idea in their heads. You're...you're a bad seed!"
"Hey, I came back to help you, you ungrateful wench!"
"I didn't ask for your help, you undead...person! I didn't ask any of you for help, stupid...hero-type people." Willow let out an inarticulate cry of frustration and stormed off.
"Put ideas in their heads," Spike muttered. He glared at Angel. "Like I could get a thought through that thick skull."
"Listen, you," Angel said, "I had everything under control until you opened your big..."
Buffy exchanged an exasperated glance with Faith. Yup, they were off to a great start.
Willow sat cross-legged on the stage, her pulse drumming in her ears. She inhaled deep breaths, trying to regain her composure. In retrospect, it had probably been unrealistic to expect Buffy to meekly toddle off while someone she cared about fought the baddies. Buffy's loyalty was one of her more endearing, if frustrating, traits.
She glanced over at her silent companions, the three comatose witches. Willow hated that they were going to die here, but she -- they -- still needed the protection spell. Given what they'd already sacrificed, she hoped they would have understood.
Stuck to the stage floor, a solitary candle kept vigil over the sleepers. In the feeble light, Willow could barely discern the rise and fall of their chests. She got up and grabbed half a dozen candles from a box under the table. Lighting each one, she arranged them around the women. The least she could do was not let them die in the dark.
Calmed by the physical and familiar ritual, she sat down again, her thoughts still on the trio. She'd been shocked when she realised what they'd done. Magic didn't solve everything, she knew that, but its usage was as varied as Mother Nature herself. She couldn't believe they hadn't found another way.
Now she understood; there was no other way, not unless they were willing to sacrifice others. Faced with a similar dilemma, Willow had discovered that she, too, preferred to take the burden on herself. She set her jaw. Closing down the conduit was going to take everything she had.
Everything.
And she was okay with that. Sure, there'd been that hour of mind-numbing terror last night, when she'd lain awake listening to Buffy toss and turn and wondering just how badly it was going to hurt, when she'd had to fight the urge to use Xander as her own personal security blanket; but it had passed. As the night wore on, her survival instincts had receded and her brain had unlocked.
It had to be done; it was as simple as that. All things considered, she thought it was not a bad way to make up for trying to destroy the world. And maybe, just maybe, she'd get to be with Tara. Willow smiled, feeling warm inside.
Voices echoed down the other end of the auditorium. Although the closed curtains concealed her, Willow stiffened. She wasn't ready to talk to Buffy. But as she heard a shoe squeak behind her, she realised she might not have a choice.
Clothing rustled as someone lowered themselves beside her, and a hint of musky fragrance wafted to Willow's nose.
Faith.
Willow glanced at the dark-haired slayer. She was staring at the witches.
"You think they're up on current events?" Faith said, not taking her eyes off the three women.
"I don't know. I'm hoping they're just having happy dreams with ponies and ice cream and Julie Andrews singing, you know?"
"Julie Andrews?" Faith shuddered and fell silent.
Non-chatty Faith made Willow nervous, since the slayer usually had plenty to say. Willow watched her out of the corner of her eye, waiting her out. La, la-la, she thought, I'm fine, I can do this. But as the minutes ticked by without a word from Faith, Willow began to squirm. Finally she couldn't take it anymore.
"I wish I could talk to them," she blurted.
Faith smiled. "They're brave women."
"Yeah."
"Also pretty selfish."
"Selfish!" Willow whipped her head round, ready to rip into the slayer.
Unfazed, Faith met her gaze. "They did what they wanted without talking to anyone else. Without thinking about how the people they left behind would feel."
Willow turned back to the witches, discomfited by Faith's knowing eyes. "They did what had to be done."
"Not disputing that. But not giving their friends a chance to say goodbye -- that's harsh, Will."
"Maybe they were trying to protect their friends."
"Or maybe they were trying to protect themselves."
"That...that's crazy talk!"
In a careful tone, Faith said, "I know saying goodbye ain't easy."
Abandoning the pretence, Willow groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Saying goodbye is a cakewalk compared to what you're asking me to do."
"Buffy deserves to know."
"She'll know. After."
"Will--"
"She'll freak," Willow said, straightening. "Maybe even try to stop me."
Faith exhaled an audible breath. Willow knew she sounded heartless, but she couldn't allow Buffy the chance to shake her resolve.
"Okay." Faith shook her head. "Buffy is so gonna kick my ass. Or worse, gimme a wedgie."
Relieved, Willow nodded at Faith. "Thanks." In spite of her efforts, Willow's eyes began to prickle.
"You don't need a hug, do you?" Faith said, fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. "Cause I don't do hugs."
Willow smiled faintly. "Nah, I'm good."
"Cool." After one last glance at the witches Faith bounced to her feet and made for the side of the stage.
"Faith." Willow waited for her to look round. "Why'd you come back?"
Faith grinned. "What, and let you guys have all the fun? Not my style, Red." She paused. "Get some sleep. You look like crap and we've got a big night ahead."
"Nag, nag, nag," Willow grumbled, though she couldn't help smiling. As Faith clattered down the steps, Willow scooted over to a bare mattress and lay on her back, letting her body sink into it.
She didn't expect to fall asleep, though; she was still wired from the portal spell. I'll just rest my eyes for a bit, she thought as she closed them. She heard Angel and Spike squabbling in the distance; then their voices seemed to drift away.
Buffy pottered around the foyer, taking stock of what was left of the supplies; snack foods, chocolate, soda, water, a few wrinkly apples. She noted, with a grimace, that the carton of pickled herrings remained alone and unloved next to the window.
It was quiet. Too quiet, she mused. She had gotten used to the constant noise of people in the building. Just then, she heard Angel and Spike bickering in the auditorium. A minute later Faith's sharp voice cut them off, eliciting a smile from Buffy; but it soon faded.
She felt edgy, nervous, more so than she would've expected. Not that she wasn't anxious about the forthcoming mission, but she was an experienced slayer and such battles were her element. Deep down, a big part of her was eager for the chance to tear into a demon horde. No, something else was gnawing at her, a distinct intuition that something bad was going to happen tonight.
Squatting in one corner, she rummaged through the pile of weapons, daintily sorting the firearms into a separate heap. As she discarded an oily shotgun she recalled Xander boasting about the tazer rifles he'd managed to scrounge from the army. All of a sudden the notion of escaping the oppressive building seemed a great idea and, on impulse, she left the foyer.
Buffy trotted down the steps to the army truck, relishing the sunshine and fresh air; the unwashed masses had neglected to take their body odour with them. She went to the back and let down the tailgate. After eyeing the nuke for a long moment she leapt into the truck.
The missile was no higher than her shoulder, yet its presence seemed to extend beyond the space it occupied, creating an aura of malevolence. Buffy sidled past, shivering as the metal gleamed through a hole in the tarpaulin, and located a rectangular crate stacked against the cab. Kneeling, she ran her fingertips over the nailed down top. She considered going to look for a crowbar, but then it struck her that the box was the perfect object to vent her nerves on. Without hesitation Buffy drove her fist through the wood, exhaling sharply. She penetrated the lid with a satisfying crack and ripped it off.
"That make you feel any better?"
Buffy glanced over her shoulder and saw Faith standing at the end of the truck.
"Didn't make me feel worse," Buffy said, turning back to dig through the foam-packed crate. She extracted a rifle and examined it, noting that the power cell was fully charged. It was definitely an initiative weapon, though more souped up than the ones she remembered from Sunnydale. She replaced it in the crate and, feeling Faith's eyes on her back, rose and pivoted in one graceful move. "Something you need, Faith?"
"Just wondering where you'd got to," Faith said as she vaulted into the truck.
"Didn't know I needed permission to leave the building," Buffy said, cocking an eyebrow.
Faith grinned. "Just call me Principal Faith."
Crossing her arms, Buffy paced towards her. "Willow okay?"
"She's taking a nap."
"Wasn't what I asked."
Leaning against the nuke, Faith nodded in wry acknowledgement. "She's frazzled." She glanced at the crate. "Seems like she's not the only one."
"Yeah. Weapons that can reduce me to a stain on the sidewalk make me twitchy. Go figure."
"Huh." Grabbing handfuls of tarp, Faith threw the covering off the nuke before Buffy could stop her. She cringed as Faith ran her hand along the gleaming metal casing. "I wouldn't worry. I'm pretty sure Willow's got Fat Man here covered."
For a second, as Faith glanced at her, Buffy thought she saw pity in Faith's sable eyes, but it was gone the next instant. Swivelling, Faith dropped to the floor, settling her back against the side of the truck and dangling one leg off the edge.
"Wanna hear something whacked?" Faith said. "I missed this whole apocalyptic thing. Well, not so much the apocalypse as that rush you get when you have the fate of the world in your hands."
Buffy pursed her mouth. "Life on the open road boring you?" She stepped over Faith's leg and sat against the opposite side of the truck, mirroring Faith's pose.
"It just feels like I've fallen into a rut: cheap motels and grouchy slayers. It's gotten to the point where I look forward to the homicidal ones just to break up the monotony."
Buffy did a double take. "Tell me you're exaggerating."
Faith quirked her mouth. "Well, only two actually tried to corpsify me. The others...were just really pissy."
Tilting her head back, Buffy stared at the sky, trying to ignore the missile looming over her. "I didn't think dealing with problem slayers would be such a tough gig."
"What, you thought a chat with Auntie Faith would turn them around?"
"Well...yeah."
Faith snorted. "Most of these girls are too busy hating the world to listen to anyone."
"So what do you do with them?"
"Depends on the girl." Faith shrugged. "Training usually helps, so does having people around who love 'em."
"And the homicidal ones?"
"Shipped them off to Giles," Faith said with a wicked grin. "Last I heard Willow had to de-slayer one of them." Her eyes were contemplative as she gazed at the desolate parking lot. "She giveth and she taketh away."
Buffy frowned. "I didn't know that."
"No? I thought Giles sent you monthly reports."
Ah, mystery solved. Buffy shrugged. "I'm a little behind on my reading."
Faith gave her a knowing smile. "Better than valium, huh?"
"I can barely get through half a page before I start slipping into a coma," Buffy admitted. She ran a hand through her loose locks and made a face; the dry shampoo had been a godsend but it wasn't the same as a hot shower. "Besides, Giles is supposed to call me with the important stuff."
"Maybe he didn't wanna interrupt your swanky new life," Faith said with a trace of bitterness.
Buffy studied her. "Maybe you should take a break, come to Rome for a couple months. Shopping, cute Italian guys and, oh, there's this little place near my apartment that makes the best gelato. I swear, it's better than se--"
"Sounds good in theory, but the last time I was in a major airport I came this close to getting busted." Faith took a deep breath. "S'okay. Smalltown America's a good place to stay lost for a while."
"Yeah, but moving around like you do, it's easy to get disconnected."
"Oh, I've found plenty of ways to get connected," Faith said with a sly wink.
Warmth bathed Buffy's cheeks. "So not what I meant," she said. "Look, maybe what you need is a partner...someone to watch your back...keep you company."
Faith shook her head. "I don't need a sidekick. I work better alone."
"That's the point, Faith. You're not alone."
"Maybe I should be."
"What?"
After a moment Faith said, "You ever wonder whether we did the right thing? Activating the potentials?"
Buffy forced herself not to look away. "Right or wrong, we didn't have a choice."
Faith made a big show of examining her fingernails. "And what happens when someone else gets to one of these girls before we do?"
"We deal with it."
"I'm not sure putting them in a coma is the way to go," said Faith, somehow managing to look both amused and impatient.
"No argument here," Buffy said, flushing. She bit her lip. "I could call Robin--"
"Robin and I are history," Faith's eyes flashed, "as in ancient."
"That's not what he says."
Unexpectedly, Faith smiled. "He always was an optimist," she said with quiet affection.
"Faith, I know it's none of my business--"
"So how about we keep it that way," Faith said, brusque but not angry.
"Fine." Buffy hesitated, and spoke in a rush, wanting to get the words out before Faith cut her off. "Just don't make the same mistake I did -- don't shut him out. Faith, you don't have to be alone."
"I'll keep that in mind, Dr Phil."
Buffy's mouth twitched. "You know, you really need a vacation."
Willow woke with a start. It was quiet, and darker than it'd been before she fell asleep. Panicked and thinking she must have overslept, she staggered to her feet and shoved aside the heavy curtains cloaking the stage.
Standing at the edge, she glanced up at the high auditorium windows and heaved a sigh. Pink and gold streaks lit the dusky sky; the day was just ending. She could make out Angel, Spike and Buffy sprawled on mattresses scattered around the chamber, but Faith was nowhere to be seen.
Willow checked on the witches and replaced three candles that had burnt out before leaving the stage. Fortunately, the absence of sleeping bags and airbeds made it easier to tiptoe through the auditorium. As she skirted around Angel her stomach rumbled. Willow froze, but no one stirred. She continued to the foyer, where she hunted for something to eat, falling on a lonely packet of Oreos like a hungry wolf.
"Hey, Will."
Willow jumped and swung around. "Hey, Buffy," she said through a mouthful of chocolate cookie. She swallowed a chunk involuntarily and started choking.
Eyes widening, Buffy leapt forward and pounded Willow's back, almost hammering her to the ground. Waving off the slayer's "help", Willow hacked and coughed, managing to dislodge the cookie bits in her throat.
"You all right?" Buffy said.
"Sure." Willow swallowed. "Apart from my lungs being in my stomach."
"Uh, yeah, sometimes I get carried away."
Their eyes met for a second before both glanced away. Willow wandered off, covering her awkwardness by searching for a bottle of water. She found one and took a sip, sneakily observing Buffy. The slayer knelt by a canvas bag bulging with weapons, attempting to zip it up. Although the bag was obviously too full, she kept tugging until the zip snapped off in her hand. She glanced up and Willow looked away, pretending to study the oh-so-fascinating blank wall.
Buffy sighed. "So...you ready for this?"
"Good to go," Willow said, not looking at her.
"Glad to hear it." Buffy rose. "Cause this transmutant spell is not something you wanna mess up." Her eyes widened. "Not that I'm doubting," she said quickly. "I am No Doubt Buffy."
Head tilted, Willow glanced at her.
"Okay, maybe I have a little doubt," Buffy said.
"Me too," Willow chirped. "Too bad it's too late for you to do anything about it."
Buffy gulped. "What happened to the reassuring Willow I know and love?"
Willow shrugged as she nibbled on an Oreo.
Buffy took a deep breath. "Okay, I guess I deserved that." She edged closer. "But I didn't come back to stomp all over your toes. I need to be here. Can you understand that?"
Though she wasn't ready to forgive her, Willow couldn't help but respond to Buffy's overtures. Plus she was doing that doe-eyed thing that never failed to turn Willow into a spineless mush. Relenting, she swung round to face Buffy.
"It just...it feels like you didn't trust me to do this alone," Willow said.
"Are you kidding?" Buffy's eyebrows shot up. "Will, I'm trusting you with my life. Do you have any idea how much that nuke scares me? I have to pretend it's a prop from some cheesy B-movie just so I don't get stuck in panic mode."
"Oh." A hot flush of shame worked its way up Willow's neck. "I didn't know."
"And Angel was right -- you're going to need our help."
Unable to disagree, Willow nodded, but her stomach contracted into a hard knot. She knew how hard it was to watch a loved one die, and she didn't want that for her friends, Buffy least of all. But it was too late to change that now. Willow knew that nothing was going to stop the others from accompanying her. Truth be told, she didn't want to stop them. Gazing at Buffy's earnest face, Willow realised that the only thing she could do was to make her peace.
"Hey, I'm sorry about the Linda Blair number before," she said with an apologetic shrug. "You kinda surprised me."
"Ditto," Buffy said wryly. She looked down for a second. "So...we're okay?"
"Yeah, we're good."
Before she knew it Willow was in Buffy's arms. Willow smiled and hugged her back. Entwined with the slayer, she felt safe and loved, buoyed by the strength of her best friend.
"Bloody hell. What's next, a group hug?" Spike stood in the doorway to the auditorium, smoothing his bed hair. Looking at him over Buffy's shoulder, Willow saw his hand pause in mid-stroke. "On second thought..." Throwing his arms wide open, he shuffled towards them.
"In your dreams, Spike," Buffy said without turning around. Willow giggled at Spike's pouty face.
The night was humid, despite the clear skies. Perched on the front steps, Buffy leaned back on her hands and gazed at the stars. Basking in the vastness of the heavens usually calmed her, but not tonight. She was jittery, nagged by the persistent sensation that something out there was watching her, despite the apparent stillness.
A familiar presence approached from behind. She straightened, but didn't look round.
"The stars are so bright," Angel said as he took a seat beside her.
"Yeah, that pesky electricity. Who needs it."
He didn't respond and, feeling ill at ease, Buffy made no further attempt at conversation. She watched the moon rise, thoughts of Connor pricking her conscience. She doubted she was the sole reason Angel had returned, but she felt guilty nonetheless; he was here with her instead of there with his son.
Taking a sip of water, she sneaked a glance at Angel, at his aquiline profile revealed by the silvery light. She noticed he'd put on a fresh black t-shirt. It was tight on him and she couldn't help but admire the effect.
She never would've asked it of him, but Buffy couldn't deny the sheer joy she'd felt when he had come back. She wanted to tell him so, but, afraid of seeing regret on his face, she didn't.
Buffy glanced at the truck, imagining she could see the nuke inside. After all the prophecies she'd encountered, she wondered if this was just one more. Was there, somewhere on a dusty shelf, buried in an ancient library, a tattered parchment inscribed with words foretelling these events? Could they have prevented it, or at least been better prepared? Had Angel's fateful choice to join Wolfram & Hart been inevitable?
"How did this happen?" she said.
He slanted a cautious look her way. "Haven't we been through this?"
"No, I meant...why the corporate merger?"
"Oh, that."
"Yes, that," she said, an edge to her voice. He sounded like he'd given it no more thought than choosing which brand of hair gel to buy.
Resting elbows on knees, Angel steepled his hands. "I did it for Connor. To protect him."
She kept her tone neutral. "You could've come to me."
"You were battling the First, Buffy. Didn't leave a lot of spare time to help old friends."
"I would've made time."
"To help my son?"
Buffy didn't reply. He had a fair point, though she would've sooner bitten her tongue off than admit it.
Angel sighed. "Anyhow, I don't know that you could've helped him. He was somewhat...psychotic by that point."
She pondered for a moment. "Did I know about him...before the mind wipe?"
He glanced at her. "Of course."
"And how'd I take the blessed event?"
"There was some yelling involved. Also some fisticuffs. Made me really glad I decided to tell you in person," Angel said, his expression wry.
It was an odd feeling to be ashamed of something she couldn't remember doing. "Sorry," she said.
He shrugged. "Don't worry about it."
Buffy stared down at her boots. "I thought vampires couldn't have children."
Angel hesitated. "They can't."
"So..."
He cleared his throat. "Well, it's an interesting story--"
"You know what, never mind. I don't wanna know."
His relief was palpable. "That's probably best." Under his breath he added, "...for me."
She snorted.
After several minutes of silence Angel said, "So how's life in the Eternal City?"
"The usual; babysitting junior slayers, keeping Dawn and Andrew out of trouble, shopping. Oh, and there's this little place near my apartment that makes--"
"Are you...seeing anyone?" he said, all faux casual.
"Nope."
Angel's face became frigid. "You don't have to lie to protect my feelings, Buffy."
"I'm not," she said, taken aback. Then she remembered... "Oh, this is about that Laurel and Hardy routine you and Spike pulled in Rome, isn't it?"
He ducked his head. "Maybe."
Maybe, her ass. "So what did you see...exactly?"
Angel glanced at her. "You were dancing."
"And?"
His eyebrows shot up. "And? There was an and?"
"Um, no?"
Angel scowled.
"It was just a kiss..." Buffy caught herself. "Wait a second, what am I doing?" She poked Angel's arm. "You have no call getting growly, mister. I'm a free agent. Free, I tell you!"
Under her glare, Angel deflated. "I know."
She took pity on him. "Besides, there's nothing to get growly about. We were just dancing. In a nightclub full of people, I might add."
"But it was your sexy 'look at me, I saved the world' dance!"
She stared. "Angel, I do that dance with everyone."
"Oh." He thought for a second and his eyes narrowed. "Who's everyone?"
Buffy groaned. "You know, I've already had my quota of jealous ex-boyfriend crap today, so let's not do this, okay?"
Angel turned away, but not before she saw the kicked-puppy look gracing his face. "Fine," he said.
She sighed. "Look, I'm not gonna lie and say I spend my nights at home knitting. I date, I dance, and, yes, I flirt...just like other women my age. But that's all. I'm not involved with anyone." She paused. "Not anymore."
"What about the Immortal?" Angel said, puckering his brow.
"What about him?"
"Andrew said that you...he said there was snuggling."
"Uh huh. The same kind of snuggling one might enjoy with, say, their werewolf girlfriend?"
Angel flinched. "How did you--"
"You made the gossip column in Demon Weekly," Buffy said with a straight face.
"What?" he said, flustered.
She grinned and waited for the penny to drop. It took longer than she expected.
At last Angel said, "You were spying on me?" His voice was higher than normal.
Buffy resisted the temptation to make a snide pot and kettle remark. She shrugged. "Not exactly. I just had a slayer swing through town every month or so to catch up on the local goss."
He glared. "What, so sending Willow to check up on me wasn't enough?"
"Hey, at least my spy never got caught."
Angel lowered his gaze. After a long pause he said, "I just...I wanted to be sure you were okay."
Buffy touched his chin, nudging his head so she could see his eyes. "I know. Me too."
His shoulders relaxed. "I know you're not ready, and maybe you never will be, but I can't help being jealous when I hear about you with another guy." He grimaced. "Especially that guy."
"Well, I didn't exactly turn cartwheels when I heard about you and wolfgirl." She winced. "Or when I met Connor."
Angel was quiet for a moment. "He's the best thing that's ever come out of my existence."
"Yeah, he's a good kid." Buffy felt more than saw Angel grin. She suppressed a smile. "Kinda dimwitted, though. I figure he gets that from his dad."
"That and his dashing good looks, right?"
"Oh, goes without saying."
She glanced at him, and caught her breath at the look in his eyes. It was love, but love that wasn't borne of sex or passion. And yet it was no less powerful for that. It was a look she might've received from Willow, or Xander, or even Spike; it was about friendship, about acceptance, and it was enduring. Buffy reached for his hand at the same time that he reached for hers.
They met halfway.
Xander sat alone atop a hill overlooking the valley where they'd set up camp. Once the portal had vanished, it hadn't taken long for the curious natives to come a-calling to welcome them, and their friendly and innocent natures had soon won over even the most wary of the group. Of course, the humans' lack of weapons had gone a long way towards ensuring that the introductions stayed peaceful.
Music drifted to his ears; reminiscent of a jig, he thought, though he really didn't know what a jig was. It just sounded like jiggy music, lots of drums and some kind of flute. The camp looked festive and merry, humans and natives mingling in the radiance of the twin moons, but Xander wanted no part of it. What he wanted was to be in L.A. with his best friends.
He'd read Willow's letter so many times the paper was starting to lose its properties as a solid. At first he thought Buffy had known, but then he read the letter addressed to her. Not that it made him feel any better.
Xander spotted Connor loping up the slope and gritted his teeth. When Connor reached the top he flopped down next to Xander.
"So when are you gonna stop sulking and come join the party?"
Xander compressed his mouth.
Connor sighed. "Still not talking to me. Come on, how many times do I have to apologise?"
Xander just glared. Tilting his head, Connor gave him a speculative look.
"You know, with the brooding, and that stick up your butt, you kinda remind me of my dad."
"You take that back!" Xander said, horrified.
Connor grinned in triumph. "It speaks!"
Scowling, Xander considered retreating back into his pit of despair, but the damage had already been done. "You had no right," he said with an emphatic finger point.
"Yeah, I know."
Xander blinked. "So why'd you take me down, then?"
"I guess I got caught up in the moment," Connor said, avoiding his gaze.
Flummoxed, Xander had to take a moment to digest that revelation. In a weird way it actually made sense.
"Hey, I hear there's gonna be dancing and stuff," Connor said, bounding to his feet as if springs were attached to his backside. "And you know, I'd hate to be the only one looking like a dork."
"Funny," Xander said with a grimace. "I think I'm starting to see the resemblance to Angel."
"It'll take your mind off what's happening in L.A."
Xander had to admit the kid had a point. Sitting here alone imagining what was happening would only get him an extended vacation in Crazyville. He nodded, levered himself off the grassy mound, and started down the hill. Glancing at Connor striding beside him, Xander realised that he had the perfect opportunity to enact a little revenge on Angel.
"Tell me, kid, you ever heard of the Snoopy dance?"
Willow sucked on the last bite of a Hershey bar, letting the chocolate melt in her mouth. Still hungry, she picked at the pile of snack foods, opting for a nut bar this time. She'd been munching non-stop for an hour, although as midnight drew nearer it got harder and harder to keep her food down.
Faith was dozing a couple mattresses away while Spike lay close by, staring at the ceiling and looking disturbingly like a corpse. Nonetheless Willow was grateful for their presence. Outside the small area lit by the lantern, the auditorium was shrouded in shadows. It gave her the wiggins.
A draft tickled her neck. Shivering, she put down the nut bar and wrapped her arms around her middle. It felt like the temperature had just dropped ten degrees.
She glanced at Xander's watch, which she wore in place of her own, and decided it was time for another stroll down to the stage to check on the witches. Despite the circle of candles around them, from this distance the women were just a dark mound.
As Willow got to her feet the candles on the stage flickered, attracting her attention. Curious but not alarmed, she scanned the area between the drawn back curtains. Dark shadows emerged from the wings, gliding across the stage. Willow jumped, letting out an involuntary scream. Faith and Spike shot upright.
As the shadows converged on the women, Willow instinctively raced towards the stage, stumbling over mattresses in the gloom.
"Willow, get your ass back here!" Faith yelled.
Willow ignored her, but the next thing she knew an iron grip on her arm jerked her to a halt. She whirled round to see Faith's blurry features.
"The exit's back that way."
"But..." Willow gestured towards the stage.
"It's over, Will. Do the math." Faith's hoarse, pain-filled voice belied her terse words. "They're gone."
Though she knew Faith was right, Willow hesitated. The growls coming from the stage were bad enough, but the ripping and tearing sounds were terrible to hear, fanning Willow's fury until the desire to unleash her power almost overwhelmed her.
Faith squeezed Willow's arm. "If we don't go now everything they've done will be for nothing."
The growls grew louder, and Willow heard the heavy thumps of feet landing on the wooden floor. She nodded and let Faith drag her towards the foyer. But she was caught off guard when Faith shoved her at Spike.
"Get her out of here," Faith said as she whirled to meet the oncoming demons. Only two vampires, but behind them three more were leaping off the stage.
"What?" Willow said. "No!"
"Spike, go!" Faith slugged the first vampire, and spun to reverse kick the other in the chest.
That was the last thing Willow saw before Spike yanked her from the auditorium. In the foyer he slowed just long enough to snatch up the bag of weapons. As they burst onto the front steps Buffy and Angel leapt to their feet, jerking their hands apart.
"The spell's down," Willow said, breathless.
Buffy's guilty expression melted into concern, and she glanced into the foyer. "Faith?"
"Buying us the time we're wasting," Spike snapped.
Buffy flinched and her eyes hardened. "Okay. Let's go."
They ran down the steps. Willow tripped as she tried to keep up with Spike; his hold on her arm was all that prevented her from wiping out. As they reached the bottom of the steps, howls echoed from every direction and tiny yellow and red lights winked in the night; eyes, Willow realised a split second later.
"Spike, you're driving," Buffy said. She took the bag of weapons from him and darted to the back of the truck, Angel close behind her. Spike tugged Willow to the driver's side, all but tossed her into the cab, and climbed in after her.
Just before he switched on the engine, Willow heard the unearthly shriek of a vampire being dusted. Through the cracked windscreen she saw demons bounding into the parking lot as the truck began to move.
Spike steered towards the road and the demons appeared to shift left as the vehicle swerved right. Willow bounced in her seat as they passed over the dip where the driveway met the road. Instead of braking, Spike accelerated, using the entire road to make a wide right turn.
Hoping to see Faith, Willow peered out her window at the auditorium. She gasped as she saw a vampire clinging to the passenger door. Flashing his fangs at her, the demon drew back his fist and punched the window once, twice, penetrating the reinforced glass. He grabbed Willow by the throat before she even had time to think.
"Bugger!" Spike said. She felt him grab at the back of her shirt, but the truck veered across the road and he let go.
Struggling for breath, she clawed at the vampire's hand, without success. He smirked and drew her to the window. She couldn't utter a word to save herself.
Everything began to go fuzzy when she heard a sound she'd heard a thousand times before; the swift thud of a stake penetrating flesh. The vampire collapsed into ash, revealing Faith's bloody face, her dark hair whipped by the wind.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to pick up strangers?" she said with a grin.
"Faith!" Willow felt tears well up. She reached through the hole to hug Faith, but the slayer was already shimmying to the rear of the truck. Giddy with relief, Willow turned to Spike. "She's okay!"
"Fabulous," he said. "Well, we've got nothing to worry about, 'ave we?"
She ignored his sarcasm, preoccupied by the thought that they'd left the school earlier than planned.
"Spike, we're gonna have to take the long way round."
"Eh?"
"If we get to the mansion too early, we might not be able to hold them off."
"You want me to circle the block?" he said, incredulous.
"Well..." She shrugged helplessly.
"This just gets better and better," he muttered, but he turned off the boulevard onto a side street.
"It's not my fault the demons managed to get into the school," Willow said. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she remembered exactly why the demons were able to attack. A wave of sorrow clogged her nose and throat, and she sniffled.
"Bloody hell. This isn't the time for waterworks!"
Anger and grief loosened her tongue. "Oh, really. Well, I won't have any time later, Mr Sensitive!" Her eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth, waiting for the yelling that never came.
She sneaked a glance at Spike. He was hunched over the steering wheel, eyes hooded. He flicked an odd furtive glance at her, and Willow was struck by the sudden realisation that he'd known all along that she wasn't coming back from this spell.
"Okay, well, this is awkward," she said.
Spike's smile was sardonic. "Thought you could just slip into the night without anyone being the wiser, huh?" Though he appeared to be concentrating on manoeuvring through the back streets, she felt the weight of his disapproval.
"No, it's not like that," she said, anxious to make him understand. "This is the only way."
"Bollocks. When it comes to magic there's always another way." His tone gentled. "You would've found it if Tara was still alive."
Her throat swelled. She stared out her window, fighting back tears. "You're wrong," she said, but without conviction.
"If you say so, luv." Spike, too, sounded unconvinced.
They travelled on in silence, Spike driving the truck towards Hollywood, Willow trying not to dwell on what he'd said. He was wrong; he had to be. Her gaze slid to the side mirror and she noticed they'd picked up quite the entourage; at least thirty demons. As she watched, more emerged from shops and side streets to join the chase, as if answering a siren's call.
Up ahead a tall muscular demon appeared right in their path, arms spread as though preparing to catch the truck. Growling, Spike mowed the creature down without even attempting to dodge. As the truck jolted over the body Willow tried not to imagine the mess under the wheels.
"Wow, those demons must be really hungry," she said, mostly to herself.
"Human meat's scarce round here," Spike said. "Plus they're all pumped up from the dark magic."
Willow grimaced. "Hungry and high -- how lucky are we."
The tyres squealed as the truck skidded onto Santa Monica Boulevard. She sat up straight, heart thumping against her ribcage. She checked the side mirror again. Their newfound fans were still tagging along, though the pack had thinned out; many of the demons couldn't keep up. Trouble was they weren't giving up entirely, just following at their own pace.
And they were almost there. Spike made another turn. Out of the blue Willow got a clear mental picture of the iron gates at the mansion -- the closed iron gates. She leaned forward, trying to pick out Vail's mansion from the rest. She wasn't going to have time to jump out and open the gates, even assuming they were unlocked, but maybe she could use magic... Willow noticed that said gates were coming up fast.
"Spike? Now would be a good time to slow down."
He shot her an evil grin. "You'd better hang onto something, luv."
"Spike!" Fumbling in her haste, Willow strapped on the seat belt, grabbed the door handle, and prayed.
"Is it just me or are we speeding up?" Faith said.
Buffy eyed the demons that had managed to keep up for their entire journey; they were starting to lag behind. "It's not you." She jumped onto the side of the truck, fingers clinging to the top as she leaned out. A gust of air blew her hair into her face but she could make out the mansion up ahead. In fact, it was getting awfully close...and they weren't slowing. Realisation hit her like a two by four to the head. She dropped to the floor and flung herself into a corner, bracing her legs against the nuke. "Hang on!"
Faith and Angel glanced at each other and scrambled to grab hold of something solid as the engine revved.
"That crazy son of a bitch!" Angel said, flinging himself into a rear corner.
An ear-splitting clang pierced the night as the truck crashed through the gates. Sparks flew into the air. The truck sped on, swerving off the gravel driveway and onto the lawn, bouncing Buffy's ass off the truck bed.
"Shit!" Faith said as the weapons bag slid down the length of the truck and bumped into the tailgate.
Buffy wanted to laugh, but then she realised that they weren't stopping. "God, he really is crazy." She wrapped her arms over her head just as the truck ploughed through the front door of the mansion. It came to a jarring halt halfway through, slamming Buffy back against the cab.
Chunks of stone rained down in the pitch black. The dust in the air made Buffy cough, but she kept her arms over her head until she was sure no more bits of wall were going to come down.
"Everyone okay?" called Angel from the back of the truck.
"No," said Faith, sounding pissed.
A door creaked open. Buffy heard the snick of a cigarette lighter and light flared inside the mansion. Dusting herself off, Buffy got to her feet. Moments later Willow's shadowy face appeared over the side. As she awkwardly clambered over Buffy moved to steady her. Then Spike vaulted into the truck, grinning like a fiend.
"Are you guys okay?" Willow said, glancing at everyone.
"Shaken, but not stirred," Buffy said, urging her friend towards the rear. Angel unlatched the gate and, one by one, they dropped to the driveway. Buffy brought up the rear, dragging the crate of tazers with her.
As Spike jumped out Angel collared him. "Are you crazy? You could've killed them!" Angel said, gesturing at the others.
Growling, Spike knocked Angel's hands away. "It's a better defensive position, all right! And we don't have time for this."
Buffy glanced across the grounds. Demons were pouring through the crumpled gates, several of them already halfway across the lawn. The sight of them sent blood roaring through her veins, preparing her body for battle.
"He's right," Faith said.
Buffy hurriedly distributed the tazers, tucked an extra stake in her pocket and slung her favourite sword across her back. She glanced at the others as they took their positions and felt a swell of pride at their strength and determination. The four of them, Angel on her left, Faith and Spike on her right, formed an unyielding line between Willow and the demons.
Buffy cushioned the tazer in the crook of her arm. "Make every shot count, guys."
As the first demon came into range she squeezed the trigger...
Willow's gaze was glued to Xander's wristwatch. Her lemon t-shirt was clinging to her back, damp with sweat. The longer they spent fending off demons, the greater the risk something would go wrong, so she was going to cast the time dilation spell at the last possible second. Xander had assured her that his watch was synchronised with the nuke, but if it was even a second off. The earth trembled and heavy footfalls thundered across the lawn, but she didn't dare turn around. She forced herself to concentrate on the watch.
Ten, nine, eight, seven... Willow readied her power. As the countdown hit two seconds she let loose a controlled burst of magic at the missile.
"Tempus retardo!"
Nothing seemed to happen. So far, so good. If the spell hadn't worked, her molecules would've been scattered all over L.A. by now. She took the fact that she was still standing as a positive omen. But that optimism faded as the minutes passed with no sign of activity.
Ignoring the growls and tazer blasts behind her, Willow kept her eyes locked on the missile. She worried her lip, wondering if she'd cast the spell too early. Sweat trickled into her eye and she swiped the back of her hand across her eyes.
When Willow looked at the missile again she caught her breath; tiny golden fissures had appeared in the metal. She let out a long sigh. The entire casing began to bubble and crack, and a fiery red web spread across its surface. Willow watched the casing melt with awe and a deep primal fear that made her insides quiver. Leftover metal fragments puffed outwards like dandelion fluff, chased by an expanding core of molten energy which ate into the truck and the stone mansion.
She shuddered as raging fire carved into the night.
Buffy's tazer whined and went dead. She dumped the rifle and retrieved her spare, swinging around to nail a horned demon charging towards her. Faith was already on her second and last tazer; the slayers were taking the brunt of the attack since Angel and Spike had only a single tazer apiece.
They'd fended off the first wave without taking any damage. The smarter, and therefore more dangerous, demons had stayed out of range once they saw what was happening. Course, there were still plenty of brain-deficient beasts happy to take on the role of cannon-fodder; most lay clumped together in unconscious heaps only metres away.
Spike had been all for taking them out permanently, but Buffy had nixed that idea. They couldn't risk any gaps in their defence; if even one demon got to Willow, it was game over.
With a wary eye on the demons, Buffy stretched her neck and shoulders. The attacks were sporadic for now, but once the tazers were exhausted, she figured this fight would get a lot more interesting.
With a start, Buffy realised that the demons' ugly mugs were becoming clearer; the night was receding. Glimpsing her shadow on the ground before her, she glanced over her shoulder. Willow was silhouetted against a mass of seething energy as bright as the sun. Buffy gulped, squashing down the urge to run away.
"Heads up!" Faith shouted.
Buffy whipped her head round. Faith was looking up to her right, where an enormous dragon was plunging out of the sky, its outstretched wings painted gold by the radiance. Buffy's mouth dropped open.
"Whoa, nelly!"
Opening its jaw, the dragon unleashed a burst of streaming flame. It hit the ground, angling directly towards Faith, Buffy and Angel. Buffy tumbled forward out of its path and felt a shower of hot gravel hit her back. As she came up on her feet she pumped a stream of electricity into the dragon's body. Another tazer blast came from Angel. The creature shrieked and wobbled but managed to flap up into the night.
Buffy did a rapid head check; Willow was untouched and looked as if she hadn't even moved, while Faith and Spike were firing at several demons who'd attacked during the dragon distraction. Beside her, Angel tracked its flight above. Judging from his eye movement, it looked as if the dragon was returning for another attempt at crispy fried slayer.
Angel slung his machete and tazer across his neck and shoulder. "Cover me," he said.
She narrowed her eyes. "For what?"
He morphed into game face and grinned down at her.
"Oh no," she said.
"Oh yes." He glanced up. "No time to argue."
Buffy looked up. The dragon was swooping in low at an oblique angle, avoiding the slow motion nuclear blast. "Damn it." She waited until it was in range, its jaws opening, and fired several bursts of electricity at it. Screaming, the dragon dodged her shots. She kept firing and managed to score a hit to its left wing.
For one heart-stopping second Buffy thought the dragon was going to crash into them, then it veered off, beating its wings to gain altitude. In a blur of motion Angel ran a short distance and rocketed up, snagging the creature's tail as it climbed into the night.
Knowing she had to compensate for Angel's absence, Buffy focused on the battlefield. The demons were advancing, sensing an opportunity. She, Faith and Spike shot the ones that ventured too close, holding them at bay.
Whenever she could Buffy scanned the sky, but all she saw was the occasional glimpse of crackling blue energy. Not enough to tell whether Angel was winning or...
A snake-headed demon rushed her, coming from her open left side. Buffy squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened. Crapola. As the demon reached her she slammed the butt of the rifle into its scaly face, then kicked its knee. It hissed and fell, grabbing her leg and attempting to sink its fangs into her calf. Kicking free, she proceeded to beat the demon with the tazer until it came apart in her hands.
She dropped the pieces and unsheathed her sword, ready to face the onslaught. Except all the demons, the conscious ones anyway, were staring up at the sky. Buffy heard a high-pitched whistling sound. Looking up, she saw a huge dark shape plummeting towards the ground. She froze. It was the dragon, falling head first and obviously out of control.
"Angel..." she breathed.
Everyone took a time out as they waited for the inevitable. A split second later there was a mad scramble as some of the demons belatedly realised that they were standing in the hot zone. Ten metres above the ground, a smaller figure leapt clear of the dragon, sailing over the heads of a dozen demons and landing close to Buffy. The dragon hit the lawn with a loud and revolting splat, smushing several demons who were still trying to get out of the way. A shockwave shook the ground.
"Miss me?" Angel said. His tazer was missing, but he was gripping his machete, the blade dripping with rich blue blood.
"Freakin' showoff!" said Spike.
Angel grinned, his fangs gleaming.
Looking up at him, she quirked her mouth. "He's not wrong, you know."
"I know," Angel said, his grin widening. He raised his machete and faced the demons. Shaking her head, Buffy followed suit.
Willow was entranced. The energy was powerful, mind blowing; it pushed against her time spell like a living thing, stretching towards her. But the magic held, forcibly reining in the explosion.
The energy expanded to fill her vision, until she could see nothing else. Yet she was paralysed by her own doubt, unable to make herself begin the transmutation. She'd been delusional to imagine she could control this kind of power. Darn it, why hadn't one of her dumbass friends stopped her?
She glimpsed platinum blond hair an instant before her head snapped to the right. "Hey!" Willow said, clutching her stinging cheek. "You hit me!"
Spike gave her a fierce shake. "Get on with it, you crazy bint, or we'll all going to die!" A second later he was gone, retaking his place in the line.
Willow took a steadying breath. Her confidence hadn't improved any, but there was no turning back now. She'd gotten her friends into this; she was going to have to get them out.
"World saveage. Right."
Before she could lose her nerve altogether, she began to draw on the mass of nuclear energy. Light, heat, radiation, sound -- she took it all, transforming the power into a more benign form. Willow used no spells or rituals. She simply imposed her will on the raw power, shaping and moulding it into what she desired. The energy bucked and flared, as if trying to escape, but once she started it was easier to continue, like initiating a chain reaction.
Willow drew the resultant white magic into her. Faster and faster it filled her up, and the more it did the more her confidence soared. Euphoria clouded her thoughts, and she had to struggle to keep her goal in mind. The ritual, she thought.
Action followed thought. She zeroed in on the magical imprint left by the ritual Vail had performed and tracked the lingering traces of magic. Leaving her physical form behind, she flew like a falcon, following the trail into the astral planes. Glimpsing blurry figures in the mists, she sped up. The magic she carried would be like a beacon to other entities and, though time didn't flow the same here as in the normal world, she couldn't risk any delay.
Soon she reached the other side and emerged into the netherworld, the space between dimensions. Here the breach was bared to her in all its malevolent glory; a vortex of powerful dark magic. Pausing for an instant, Willow recited a prayer to the Goddess, and plunged herself into the vortex. The magic smothered her, attacking her astral form, trying to consume her.
Suppressing the urge to flee back to her body, she released the energy she carried. It gushed out in a blinding flood, overwhelming the darkness. Willow guided the white magic, using it to both halt the flow of dark magic from the demon world and to purge Los Angeles of its evil taint. Once the barrier was established and the purification of the city was under way, Willow took a moment to survey her work.
She was pleased by what she saw. The tricky part was over, and there was only one thing left to do -- seal the breach. Willow considered her options as she studied it. The breach was basically a vast open wound created by a blood ritual. With any luck a super-powered healing spell should seal it.
Willow gathered up her reserves of power...and found that she had none. Her strength was almost exhausted. This couldn't be happening. Dismayed, she attempted the healing ritual anyway, but with no power, it fizzled.
She was so damn close she could've cried. If she didn't shut down the link between the two worlds, this whole nightmare would just start up again. Even now, she could feel the dark magic eating into the barrier like acid.
She needed power.
From what seemed like a galaxy away, she heard Faith shout. The slayer's voice sparked a flash of inspiration. Willow thought hard; she'd have to be careful not to take too much, and Angel and Spike were out because of their demonic natures. Still, she thought it should work, and in any case she didn't have a choice.
She reached out to Buffy and Faith.
The smell made her eyes water. The demons were bad enough; add in their secretions and innards and bodily fluids, and stinky didn't even begin to describe the odour.
Buffy severed the bladed arm of a Minoc demon with her sword. It shrieked and she put it out of its misery by taking its head. She whirled, twirling her weapon and disembowelling a furry beast attempting to stalk her. Its slimy intestines gushed out over her Italian calf-skin boots. She grimaced. Figured.
Her ears rang with howls, vamp dustings, and the wet smacks of fists and weapons meeting flesh. The four of them had kept the demons from getting past them, but they'd taken their fair share of lumps in return. Angel's left arm was dangling uselessly. And Spike was sporting deep claw marks across his chest.
The light behind her was dying. Buffy assumed that meant Willow was succeeding, though she couldn't spare the time to look. As the nuclear light disappeared the moon reclaimed its dominance, casting its wintry blue radiance over the battlefield.
A demon covered in black feathers flapped its wings and took flight, coming in high. As it neared her, she leapt high, spinning horizontally in the air and slamming her boot into its beaky head. She landed on her feet and swung her sword, decapitating it. The body fell, leaving several feathers drifting to the ground.
Armed with sword and stake, Buffy fought on, dispatching demons as quickly as possible. They were way outnumbered, and would've been overrun were it not for the demons' lack of unity. On the crowded battlefield, it was not uncommon for two or more demons to start squabbling over who got first crack at one of the slayers or souled vampires.
Buffy was fighting two vamps when a rush of euphoria disoriented her. Her vision skewed and for a split second she lost track of her opponents. Out of nowhere a fist connected with her face. Already off-balance, she went down hard.
Tasting blood in her mouth, she saw one of the vamps lean over her. Despite the dizziness, her senses bore a heightened clarity she'd never experienced before. Fascinated, she watched the vampire's hungry expression change to confusion and then panic. He reeled backwards, whirled, and fled, disappearing from her sight.
Wave after wave of pulsing energy swept through her, as light as a summer breeze yet as powerful as a tsunami, bearing the sweet piquant flavour of strawberries. Buffy felt as if she were floating on a cloud of joy, and it was the closest she'd come to heaven since she'd been resurrected. She tried to cling to the sensation, to make it last, but eventually it diminished and then vanished altogether. Lying on her back, staring at the stars, she slowly became aware of gravel digging into her scalp.
Buffy sat up. She tried to stand, but her head spun. She tried to shake it off, but the dizziness only intensified, and she began to shiver. In her head she heard Willow's voice apologising and explaining. A memory surfaced as Buffy fell on her rump; meditating with Willow to help her heal herself.
Buffy dug her fingers into the gravel, unable to do anything else. After a while the world stopped spinning. She didn't know how much time had passed, but the lawn was deserted aside from corpses and assorted body parts. Close by, Angel was curled up on the ground. She crawled to his side and peered into his eyes.
"Angel, you okay? You didn't get too happy, did you?"
His smile was wistful. "No. I felt it, but so did the demon. It was too agitated for me to lose myself."
"Probably a good thing," she said after a pause.
"Yeah."
She touched his cheek in wordless sympathy and glanced round. Spike was sitting on the driveway looking spaced out and she started to go to him when she saw Faith's wary expression. The brunette slayer was staring at Willow.
"Hey, it worked," Willow said, tottering about with a surprised look on her face. Her knees buckled.
"Will!" Buffy yelled, but it was Faith who lunged forward and caught her. Cradling her head, Faith lowered her to the ground. Buffy, Angel and Spike crowded round.
Buffy knelt beside Willow and took her hand.
"You did it," Buffy said.
"We did it." Willow didn't just look tired, she looked old; her gaunt face was all pruney.
Buffy's stomach clenched. "Will, what did you do?"
Willow blinked. "Buffy, don't be mad. I had to."
"I'm not mad," she said, which was true enough. She was too frightened to be mad. Her mind raced. She could still feel Willow through their link and she knew intuitively what the witch needed. "It's going to be okay. All you have to do is take more of my strength."
"Our strength," Faith said.
"Taken enough," Willow said, her words slurring.
The connection between them began to fade. Buffy tried to hold onto it, but Willow's essence proved to be as elusive as the wind.
"Will!" In desperation, Buffy shook her.
"Tara..." murmured Willow, her eyes closing.
Buffy's heart skipped and her hands fell away from Willow. Faith swore. She shoved Buffy aside and grabbed Willow's shoulders.
"Red, you listen to me! I know you feel like you've done your time, like you've made up for all the bad stuff you did. I get it." Sucking in a shaky breath, Faith glanced up at Angel. "But like someone once told me, our time is never up." She shook Willow. "So snap out of this martyr crap!"
Willow remained limp, but she didn't withdraw any further. Buffy still felt connected. In a last ditch effort, she poured all her emotions into the link. Odd, random memories swirled through her head; asking Willow for homework help the day they met, Willow moping over Xander, venting to her about Angel, nights spent researching with Giles, and more; countless moments they'd spent together as friends, confidantes, and allies. The memories spun into an ever increasing tornado of emotion.
"Will, please," Buffy choked out. Angel gripped her shoulder in support.
"Come on, luv," muttered Spike.
Buffy felt a tickle in the back of her mind, like a soft caress. She braced herself for the worst, not daring to hope. But then, after what seemed like an eternity, she grew dizzy. Slumping in relief, Buffy glanced at Faith and noted her dazed eyes and pale face. Faith nodded at her and Buffy shared a relieved look with Angel and Spike.
A minute later Willow's eyes fluttered open, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. She looked up at them and frowned. "You guys look terrible."