Buffy floated in darkness. It swirled around her, submerging and caressing, cocooning her in a web of safety. She opened her eyes and saw nothing. She reached out with an invisible hand, feeling treacle all around.
Well done.
She vaguely recognised the voice. Did I do it? Did the good guys win?
The darkness waited a moment before replying. Yes. You have served your purpose, restored balance, bla-di-bla. It was quite a ride we had, wasn't it?
I won't be hearing from you anymore, will I?
Not back in your reality. Things are different there. You know that.
Yeah. I do. For some reason, Buffy felt sad, even although hearing the news that her return to home was imminent. Of course she wanted to be home, back with her mom, her friends, her life.
Hey, cheer up. You weren't supposed to be here anyway. The Prague Prophecy was a contingency plan if timelines went helter-skelter. They tend to pop up when this sort of thing happens.
Nice to know they can just yank people out of different places to fix their mistakes. Buffy scowled.
I know, right? But it had to be you. You're one of the very few Buffys that did survive the Master's ascension. They had a limited pool to select from, and you got the short straw.
Oh, am I?
Buffy's sarcasm was ignored by the Inner Slayer. I'm sorry for what you've been through. And I'm glad we got to work with each other.
I go home now?
Yes.
What about … Buffy struggled to say it. The Inner Slayer would know what she intended, though.
That's her world. Let it go.
Can I say goodbye?
Haven't you already?
Buffy reflected on that, then smiled wryly. I guess I have already.
Yes. Things have a way of repairing themselves, anyway. She'll be fine. All of them will be fine.
Buffy sighed. It's not fair, is it?
No, it's not. The voice became duller, fainter. Buffy's surroundings increased in light, brightening like the shy emergence of the morning sun. Good luck, Buffy Summers. And goodbye.
In a whoosh of kaleidoscope colours, a sharp intake of breath, the voice was gone from Buffy's mind. Forever.