Very Long Night
A fierce gust of wind blew through the forest, knocking into the group waiting outside. And just like that, the fire went out. But the damage had already been done, and the trees were a blackened mess.
"The fire has gone!" Giles proclaimed, although he really needn't have bothered. The group were staring at the remaining smoke with something approaching a frightened awe.
"Everybody in! Now!" John called out. "We find Sam and Dean and Faith, and then we get the hell out of there."
Rona took lead of the slayers. "Everybody on guard!" she called out, following in after John. "Weapons out, eyes open!"
Nobody else spoke as they trekked through the forest. There was the occasional cough each time somebody inhaled a mouthful off smoke, but otherwise it seemed that they were too afraid to break the dark silence that had blanketed the forest since the fire had vanished.
Finally the group reached the centre. They stilled at what they saw.
Sam and Faith were both down. Sam was clinging to a tree and trying to pull himself up, but was failing miserably. Faith didn't appear to be moving at all.
In between the two, Dean was knelt on the floor, his back to everybody else. He was cradling a body all dressed in white. A body with a halo of golden hair.
"Buffy," Giles breathed.
Breaking away from the pack, John hurried over to help Sam onto his feet. But the second Sam was up, his knees gave way, and Bobby had to join them to keep him standing.
Andrew knelt down next to Faith and gingerly put two fingers to her pulse. "Thank God, she's alive. Somebody needs to help me!"
Two of the slayers, Penelope and Emma, joined Andrew and helped to pick her up.
Everybody else watched Dean, who still hadn't moved, nor relinquished his hold on Buffy.
Choked sobs could be heard, as the girls looked upon the body of their fallen leader.
Slowly, Willow stepped forwards and knelt down next to Dean.
"I killed her," he whispered to her.
She shook her head. "She's not dead."
Dean's head shot up, and he stared at her through bloodshot eyes. "Don't you lie to me. I shot her right in the heart. Her blood is...it's all over me."
"I can feel her," Willow told him softly. Tears spilled out from the corners of her eyes. "She's not dead. Not yet."
"But I don't...I don't understand. How can she not be dead?"
"Because the demon never gave her permission to die."
It was going to be a very long night.
Buffy's body was taken back to the school. Not knowing where else to put her, they laid her down in one of the hospital wing beds, next to Sam and Faith.
"I don't understand," Dawn said through her tears, as a small group gathered together. "Will someone please tell me what's happening to my sister? Is she dead? I...I just need to know. How can she still be alive when there's a bullet in her heart?"
Robin put a shaking hand on her shoulder to comfort her, and Lewis slid his fingers through hers.
"Dawn's right," John pointed out gruffly. "We need to talk about this now. What in the hell is going on?"
Willow, who had been wrapped up in Xander's arms, let go of him and stepped forwards. "I don't know the specifics," she said with a sniff. "But I know that I can still feel her energy. It's still there, but really faint. It's like...she's frozen. She's under the demon's spell, and under his complete control. He never gave her permission to die, so she can't die. Not until he's dead. Once he's dead, his control over her will be gone."
Gunn shook his head. "That's sick. So she's just...half dead until we kill that demon? And then when we do, she just dies?"
She nodded. "Once he's dead, the spell dies with him."
"I don't mean to make a morbid situation even worse," Bobby spoke up. "But how do we know the demon ain't gonna use all that mojo on her right now? He could tell her to just wake up and kill us all in our sleep, for all we know."
"There's no way his magic's getting through the barriers we have up here," Xander explained. He looked to Willow for confirmation. "Right?"
"Right."
"Can't we make her better?" Andrew asked quietly.
"I've already tried," Willow replied. She didn't continue. Nobody needed to hear how it hadn't worked. They already knew.
Dean looked up at the group, acknowledging that he even realized they were there for the first time. "So...she's still trapped in there?" he demanded. "I shot her in the heart and she's still stuck. I didn't free her?"
"It was the right thing to do." Dawn's voice was hoarse, and it looked like it hurt her to say the words. "At least now she doesn't have to...doesn't have to watch herself do all those things. She isn't being controlled now. This is better. If Buffy was awake...she'd tell you it was better."
"So now what?"
Andrew swiped at his tears and pulled a fierce face. "Now we find that stupid demon and kill it!"
If anybody was surprised by Andrew's uncharacteristic boldness, they didn't mention it.
Willow nodded and looked at Dean. "Andrew's right. The demon needs to die. Not only for your mother, but for Buffy, too. Once he's dead, we can finally set her free."
It was late, or early, or the point when it's still dark just before the sun rose.
Dean walked down the corridors of the school, alone. He hadn't wanted to go back to the apartment. Sam and Faith were still sleeping in the hospital wing, and Dawn was inconsolable. He wanted to help her, but he didn't know how. Lewis was with her, holding her, stroking her hair. Small gestures that she probably didn't even notice, but needed.
Dean, on the other hand, had a giant, gaping hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to me. A big pit of darkness swirled around inside it, and he was pretty sure a cuddle wouldn't be making him feel better any time soon.
It was only when he came to the double white doors that he realized his feet had led him to the hospital wing. He was obviously looking for some more pain to feed the hole. Pushing the door open a crack, he glanced inside to make sure that nobody else was in there. His heart fell when he spotted Willow, sat on a chair at the end of Buffy's bed. Her head was in her hands and her whole body was shaking. He was just about to go inside to comfort her – despite his wanting to be alone – when he saw his father walk over to her from the other side of the room. He blinked as he watched John hand her a steaming cup of something. Tea, maybe, or coffee.
"Thanks," she said, blowing on it. "And sorry for breaking down on you. I've just...I've been trying to be strong and stay in control all night so I can be there for the girls but I just...everyone's so...I saw Giles cry. I walked into his office without knocking and there he was, sniffling away, and I've never seen him...not even when Buffy...you know?"
"Would it make me just as crazy as you if I said yes?"
Dean's eyes widened at the tender sound of his father's voice.
"Probably." She gave him a sniffly half smile. "Did you speak to Nurse Kirsty while you were making the tea?"
"Yeah. She told me Sam and Faith are doing well. Sam's got a pretty bad concussion, but the rest is just surface damage. He'll be fine in a week. Faith's in worse shape."
"It's nothing a nifty bit of slayer healing and a truck load of pains meds wont fix."
"That's what the nurse said." There was a long pause, and then, "She's very pretty."
Dean realized that his father was talking about Buffy.
"She always has been. Even caked in demon slime and covered in vampire dust."
"I can see why Dean loves her. When I look at her a certain way...she reminds me of Mary."
"From what I remember, it was hardly a love at first sight thing when Buffy and Dean first met."
"Sounds about right if I know anything about my son...She looks so peaceful."
"She's not." Willow's voice shook noticeably on the two words.
"What?"
"She isn't peaceful. Not inside."
"I don't understand..."
She shook her head. "I couldn't say before...not in front of the others...especially not in front of Dean...she's in so much pain. She can feel the bullet in her heart."
"Oh God...Isn't there anything we can do?"
"I've tried everything I can think of. Everything I know. The only thing left to do is to kill the demon. Quickly."
Out in the hall, Dean stepped back against the wall and slid to the ground. His hole had just turned into a crater.
