a/n: This chapter isn't as long as I thought it would be, but I hope you like it anyway.
TW: character death.
Passion. It is born and though uninvited, unwelcome and unwanted, like a cancer it takes root. It festers, it bleeds, it scabs, only to rupture and bleed anew. It grows, it thrives, until it consumes. It lives, so it must die, in time.
- 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'
Buffy woke up to a comfort blanket of sunshine over her room on a sunny spring morning. She groaned wearily and stretched under her heavy blankets. She squirmed in the bed and turned around to see a brown envelope sitting on the pillow next to her. She furrowed her brow and sat up in bed, her blonde hair wildly curling around her shoulders.
She opened the envelope and unfolded a sheet of parchment paper to reveal a dark charcoal sketch. The picture was an accurate and lovingly rendered image of Buffy sleeping with her head on a white pillow. The picture wasn't signed; not even an initial. But Buffy knew who the artist was.
xxx
"She was in my room."
Will looked up from writing their Regionals setlist on a yellow legal pad on the surface of Brad's piano in the choir room. The other scoobies - Tina, Rachel, Mike, Sam and Quinn - looked up from their friendly conversation to see Buffy's hardened face.
"Who?" asked Will.
"Santana. She was in my room last night," she said, the charcoal drawing in her hand.
"You're sure?"
"Positive. When I woke up, I saw this."
Buffy handed him the drawing of her likeness and Will swallowed, worried.
"I thought vampires couldn't come in unless you invited them," said Mike, as the others stood to peer at Buffy's drawing.
"If you invite them once, they're always welcome," Tina said gravely.
"There has to be some kind of spell to reverse the invitation," Quinn suggested.
"Yeah," Rachel nodded her head in agreement, "Some sort of 'no shoes, no pulse, no service' thing?"
"I could check my books."
"It looks like Santana's at least being subtle about harassing you," said Sam.
"The roses, the picture..." Buffy shook her head, "It's almost worse this way. All I can do is wonder when she's going to attack."
"She's vindictive," Quinn nodded, folding her arms, "It's in her nature. Santana was always pretty clever about her snarkiness, but now that she doesn't have a soul... It's a classic battle strategy. I saw it all the time on the cheerleading squad."
"So Santana is harassing Buffy with cheerleader mind games?" Mike raised an eyebrow, "I hate high school."
"She's trying to provoke you," Quinn continued.
"Santana told me that when Angel was a vampire, he was obsessed with Drusilla. He killed her family just to drive her insane," frowned Buffy, "I have to tell my mom, Will. I have to tell her the truth."
"What? You can't do that!" Will exclaimed.
"I have to do something. Santana has an all-access pass to my house and I can't always be there to protect my mom."
"I'll look for a spell," said Quinn.
"What about until you find a spell?"
"Buffy, you have to stay level-headed throughout all of this," said Will.
"That's easy for you to say. You don't have Snix lurking in your bedroom at night."
"I know this is hard for you but as a slayer, you do not have the privilege of being a slave to your passions. You can't let Santana get to you. You have to stay calm and go about your business. Normal things like school and friends and glee club."
"So basically your advice is to just ignore her and hope she goes away."
Will nodded. "Pretty much. And that includes finding two more people to perform at Regionals with us."
"Maybe Dave Karofsky can help," said Sam, who sighed when the others looked at him, "He's had a change of heart lately. I think he'll want to help."
"Well, then maybe Morgan Ru can help, too," Quinn shrugged, "How many times have you guys saved her life?"
"Great," Will clapped his hands together, "You guys try to recruit people and I will try to work out the kinks in this setlist."
Will straightened his pages against the piano and left the choir room as the bell rang, tension building in his shoulders.
"Well, hello stranger," Emma said sweetly, stepping into line with him in the hallway as students disappeared into their classrooms, "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."
"Sorry," Will smiled apologetically, "Things have been awfully busy, with this whole Santana thing."
"It sounds bad."
"It is. She was in Buffy's bedroom. We're going to have to find a spell to un-invite her."
"Oh no. Are you going to drop out of Regionals?"
"No. I told Buffy that she needs to go about her business and not let Santana get to her, so I have to practise what I preach."
"Well, that's a good idea. I'm looking forward to chaperoning with you. I just hope I can finish all this paperwork before the competition."
"Well, the first group goes on at nine, so I'll pick you up at your apartment at eight. I just wish I didn't have to use glee club competitions to get some quality time with you. Being a watcher takes up so much of my life and I care about Buffy more than I could ever have imagined, but I always remind myself how hard it was growing up with a watcher as parent. It was watcher first, mother second. I don't even know where wife came into the arrangement. I don't want my life to be that way. I want to have a real family someday."
Emma smiled. "You're a very caring person, Will. That's what I love about you."
Will stopped walking and widened his eyes at Emma.
"Oh, did I just say that?" she blushed, "I-I didn't mean-"
"No, it's fine," Will smiled, "I love you too."
xxx
Buffy ran a fork through her mashed potatoes in parallel lines like a starchy zen garden.
"Okay, what's wrong?" Joyce asked bluntly from across the dining room table.
"It's nothing," Buffy shrugged.
"Come on, you can tell me anything. I've read all of the parenting books, so you can't shock me."
Buffy bit her bottom lip. "You know my friend Santana?"
"Yeah."
"Right. Well, she's... and I'm... We're sort of dating."
Joyce looked up from her dinner plate, her eyes widening and her face remaining stiff, clearly shocked but trying not to show it.
"Oh," she said, her mouth a perfect circle, "I didn't know you... I didn't know she... I mean..."
"Are you mad?"
"No!" Joyce stressed, raising her hands, "Not mad. Um... surprised. But, you know, I read about this all the time. Experimentation a-and... A-Are you... you know? No, never mind, we don't have to put a label on it. Love is love."
"We're not dating anymore," Buffy said quickly, "We're kind of going through a serious off again phase right now, so..."
"Okay," Joyce nodded, "Well, same sex relationships aren't that different than opposite sex relationships and we live in an advanced era... I just mean that you can talk to me about your relationships. I know I'm your frumpy old mom, but I also have a lot of experience in heartbreak."
Buffy smiled skeptically. "Well, things are different lately for Santana and I."
"Let me guess; she's changed. She's not the person you thought you fell for."
"In a nutshell. Anyway, ever since she... changed... she's kind of been following me around. Having a little trouble... letting go."
"Buffy, is she bothering you?"
"No. She's just been hanging around... a lot. Leaving me notes and... I just don't want to see her right now. I mean, if she shows up I'll talk to her but just don't invite her in."
xxx
Rachel had her cell phone tucked in between her ear and her shoulder as she closed her laptop and slid off the bed, clad in pink pyjamas.
"I agree with Mr. Schuester. You can't let Santana get to you. She's only trying to get you to do something reckless. People can be truly vindictive sometimes. Dead or alive," she said as she closed her curtains.
"I just hope Quinn can find a 'keep out' spell soon. I know I'll sleep easier when I can... sleep easier," Buffy said on the other line.
Rachel pursed her lips and removed a blue box of fish food from her desk drawer. She badly wanted to tell Buffy that Quinn was conspiring with Shelby to find a spell to restore Santana's soul, but Quinn had expressed that that was confidential. She didn't want to get Buffy's hopes up in case they never found a spell that would work.
"I'm sure Quinn will find something," she said as she absentmindedly tapped fish food into her miniature aquarium, noticing a rectangle of brown paper on her desk, "Just try to be positive and..."
Rachel dropped the fish food and moved towards the desk.
"And... what? ...Rachel?" Buffy asked on the other line.
Rachel put down the phone and picked up the brown envelope. She slid it open and reached inside the pull out a long, gold chain. She furrowed her brow and continued to pull out the long chain, only to see it connected to four dead tropical fish.
Rachel gasped and dropped the chain of fish. She spun around to see her aquarium was empty, with soggy fish food bits floating at the top.
xxx
"Spike, love, I've brought something for you."
Spike frowned, brooding in the shadows of his lair, his hands rested on the metal arms of his wheelchair. His eyes moved to Drusilla, who was walking into the room with a sweet smile on her face and a small puppy in her hands.
"Poor thing," Drusilla smiled down at the small Labrador, "Her owner died. Didn't even put up a fight. Do you like her, Spike? I brought her especially for you, to cheer you up."
She knelt in front of Spike, holding the puppy up to him, her smile full of sharp white teeth. "I've named her Sunshine. Open wide..."
Spike turned his head, glaring at the wall.
"Come on, love. You need to eat something to keep up your strength. Now open for mummy..."
"I won't have you feeding me like a child, Dru!" Spike snapped.
"Why not? She already bathes you, carries you around and changes your diapers," Snix smirked, slinking in the room in a skintight, blood red dress.
Drusilla's face lit up as she stood, the puppy cuddled in her arms. "My angel! Where have you been? The sun is almost up and it can be so hurtful. We were worried."
"No, we weren't," Spike said flatly.
"Forgive Spike. He's a bit testy tonight. Doesn't get out much anymore."
"Maybe next time I'll bring you with me, Spike," Snix smiled, "You'll be handy if I ever need a really good parking space."
"Have you forgotten that you're a bloody guest in my bloody home?!" Spike roared, clenching his pale fists.
Snix's mouth hung open wide in staged shock. "Well, Spike, I had no idea you felt this way. Listen, if there's anything I can do to put my services to good use, I'll do it. I mean, anything at all to keep you guys satisfied. Any of your duties I can attend to while you're spinning your wheels," she said, smiling deviously as she moved to Drusilla and slid her hands over the woman's shoulders, "Well, anything that I'm not already doing."
"That's enough!" Spike snapped, "You know what you can do? You can get rid of the bloody slayer instead of traipsing around, killing her friends' bloody goldfish!"
Snix rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth, moving away from Drusilla to kneel in front of Spike with an intense glare.
"They weren't goldfish. They were angelfish. Very expensive. And that's the difference between you and me, Spike. You go for shock value. You burst into the orchestra with a thundering drum solo. Me? I'm into the art of it all. The slow crescendo of violins that build up to the beautiful clashing of cymbals. I have subtlety. Grace. One time, a girl on my cheerleading squad called me a slut behind my back, and did I tell everyone at school that she was a closeted necrophiliac? No. I got me and my friends to stare at her forehead every time we talked to her and finally she got so insecure about her skin that she got a chemical peel and showed up to school one day looking like Freddy Krueger. That's evil."
Spike snorted. "Yeah, chemical peels. What was I thinking? You know all about torture at its finest."
"Don't patronize me, Spike. I know what I'm doing. It starts this way. I draw a portrait, I skewer a fish, I leave my message, and when Buffy can't take the small tokens of affection anymore... I'll rip her throat out, eat her heart and use her tendons to floss my teeth."
xxx
The Magic Box was a small corner store in downtown Lima. The letters were fading and people were seldom in there, but somehow the store had survived since Shelby's childhood. She walked inside and towards the cluttered counter, jars of amber-colored gels and things woven from bright, white unicorn hair covered the shelves. Ornaments carved from bone were behind glass cases and black wax candles flickered in every crevice.
A small, mustached man appeared from the shadows behind the counter with a label-maker in hand. "Welcome," he smiled, "How may I serve you today? Love potion? Perhaps a voodoo doll for that unfaithful-"
"I need an orb of Thesulah."
The man dropped his smile. "Oh, you're in the trade. Follow me," he said, and came out from behind the counter, walking Shelby to the back room, "Sorry about the spiel. After Valentine's Day I get a lot of tourists looking for love potions and mystical revenge on old lovers. As sad as it is, ouija boards and voodoo dolls are what pay the rent."
They walked into the neat, uncluttered backroom. "So how'd you find out about us?"
"I used to come here as a teenager," said Shelby, "When I first started dabbling."
The man pulled a box from a shelf and removed its lid to reveal a blue, crystal globe inside. "There you go, one orb of Thesulah. Spirit vault used in Rituals for the Undead. Nasty people, the undead. Love to shoplift. Insist on haggling.
Shelby took the box in her hands and handed over her credit card.
"There hasn't been a high demand for those lately," said the shopkeeper as he led her out of the backroom and to the checkout counter, "Sold a couple as paperweights last year. By the way, you do know that the transliteration annals for the Rituals of the Undead were lost."
"Yes, I know."
"I only bring it up because I have a strict no refund policy."
"It's okay. I've been trying to get my computer to render the Romanian liturgy to English."
"I'm not much for computers myself," the shopkeeper shook his head, handing her her credit card back, "By the way, it's none of my business, but what are you planning to conjure up if you do decipher the text?"
"I want to give someone a present," said Shelby, taking the orb from its box and holding it in her hand.
"Oh yeah? What are you gonna give 'em?" he asked.
Shelby stared into the orb as it began to glow. "A soul."
xxx
"The ritual is fairly basic," Quinn explained, removing wooden crosses and bottles of holy water from Buffy's duffel bag, "Recitation of a few rhyming couplets, burning of moss herbs, hanging of crosses, sprinkling of holy water."
"Luckily, these are all things I had lying around at my house," Buffy smiled.
"I'm going to have a hard time explaining this to my dads," Rachel shook her head, standing next to her pink bed and watching Quinn remove a plethora of items.
"You really think this'll bother him?" asked Buffy, a hammer and nails in her hand.
"Hiram Berry's only daughter nailing crucifixes to her bedroom wall? I used to have to go to Kurt's house just to watch 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' every year."
"I see your point."
"I'm just glad we're doing this. It's hard not to feel safe in my own home. I mean, I only had Santana in here once, to wait in the hall while I got ready when you guys picked me up on Halloween."
"I remember," Quinn nodded, "Let's get started."
She picked up the empty duffle bag and put it down on the floor, revealing a brown envelope that was lying, crisp, on the bedspread. The three girls stared down at it, each one grim. Quinn picked it up and looked down at a name that had been scrawled on the front.
"It's for you," she said, handing it to Buffy.
Buffy tentatively opened the envelope with shaking hands and found another charcoal drawing inside. This time, the portrait was of an older woman with curly hair, napping on a couch. Buffy's blood ran cold. "Mom."
xxx
Joyce turned into the driveway at night, a small grocery bag on the passenger's seat. As she drove up to her house, her headlights swept over Santana. Joyce gasped and slammed on the brakes. The girl was just standing there on the driveway with an eerie smile on her face.
"Oh my God," Joyce caught her breath as Santana came near and opened the door for her, smiling politely.
"Mrs. Summers, I have to talk to you," she said.
Joyce frowned sternly and got out of the car. "Buffy told me she wants you to leave her alone."
"I can't do that," she said, following Joyce as she walked towards the porch.
"You're scaring her."
"You have to help me. Joyce, you can convince her to be with me. You have to."
Joyce reached into her pocket and fumbled for the keys to the house. "You need to leave her alone."
"Tell her I need her. She'll listen to you."
"Please, I just want to get inside."
Joyce removed her keys, but they dropped from her shaking hands and clattered on the porch. She kneeled down just as Santana did, both of them nose to nose.
"You don't get it, Joyce. I'll die without Buffy. And she'll die without me."
"Are you threatening her?" Joyce stood and jammed the keys into the front door, "I'm calling the police."
"I haven't been able to sleep since the night we made love. I need her."
Joyce's mouth hung open, floored, as she pushed open the door and stepped inside. She turned back towards Santana, her eyes wide. Santana walked forward but an invisible shield kept her from crossing the threshold. Joyce turned to see Buffy walking downstairs with burning sage in her hand and Quinn approaching behind her.
"...his verbes, consenus rescissus est," Quinn read from a withered page.
Buffy breezed past Joyce and faced Santana with a hardened expression. "Sorry, Snix. I've changed the locks."
xxx
The next day, Quinn curled her hair in front of the bathroom mirror and tapped her foot impatiently, listening to the sound of Beth gurgling in the hall. Jesse leaned against the frame of the open door with Beth balanced on his hip.
"That is the most horrendous shade of blue," he said, looking Quinn up and down in her electric blue dress and thick black boots and black leggings.
"Regionals was kind of rushed this year," Quinn admitted, "What with... everything."
"Well, have fun with it, anyways."
"Are you sure I shouldn't stay? I mean, Shelby's finally onto something and I should be here to help. Besides, if I go, I'm just going to have to listen to Morgan Ru complaining on the bus there and the bus back and it's not like I'm a vital part of any of the routines-"
"Your group needs twelve members, right?"
"Well, yeah-"
"So if you don't go, the team has to forfeit."
"Yeah..."
"You should go. Shelby, Sofia, Beth and I will be fine here. I'll call you if she finds anything substantial with that orb."
"Okay," Quinn sighed and nodded reluctantly, "Wish me luck."
xxx
The only light in the school that was left on was the one in Emma Pillsbury's office, shining over the stacks of paperwork she had left to do. Evaluations, notes to parents, recommendations for therapists. The mortality rate in Lima had never been a good one and a lot of people needed consoling. She heard the quiet clap of a footstep and looked up to see Santana.
"Santana!" Emma gasped, "How did you get in here?"
"I was invited..." she smiled sinisterly, "The sign in the front of the school? 'Enter all ye who seek knowledge'. What can I say? I'm a knowledge seeker."
"Buffy isn't here."
"I'm not here to see Buffy. She's not up for company right now."
Emma trembled and stood up from the chair behind her desk. "I don't have anything that you want."
"I'm not here to take anything, Ms. Pillsbury," Santana simpered sweetly and walked to the desk, leaning against it so that Emma could feel her breath.
"What do you want?" she trembled.
"I want to give Buffy a message."
At lightning speed, Santana reached her hands over to Emma's neck and twisted, feeling it snap. She let go of the redhead and she fell to the floor, lifeless.
"I never get tired of doing that."
xxx
Buffy spread blue shadow on her eyelids with a wide makeup brush in front of her vanity mirror. She stiffened as she felt her mother staring at her from the door. Buffy set down her brush and turned to see her mother's concerned expression.
"That stuff with the herbs and the Latin, that was... she's just really superstitious."
"Oh."
"I figure if we're careful not to-"
"Was she the first? No, wait, I don't want to know. At least, I don't think I-"
"Yes. She was the first. I mean, the only."
Joyce clenched her jaw. "She's obviously not very stable, Buffy. I wish you'd have shown better judgement."
"Mom, she wasn't like this before."
"Are you in love with her?"
"Mom-"
"No, you don't get to 'Mom' me, Buffy. You had sex with a girl you didn't even see fit to tell me you were dating. Were you... ashamed?"
"Mom, no, I just... it just happened."
"It just happened?"
"It was a mistake."
"Don't just say that to shut me up, Buffy."
"Mom, my life is... I can't tell you everything."
"How about anything, Buffy? You can shut me out of your life, I'm pretty much used to it, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop caring about you. I love you more than anything in the world."
Buffy looked down at her hands, quiet.
"That would be your cue to roll your eyes and tell me I'm grossing you out," said Joyce.
"You're not. I'm glad."
"Well, I guess that was the talk."
"How did it go?"
"I don't know, it was my first."
"Well, what did you tell Grandma when you-"
"Nothing! I don't think she knows."
xxx
Will straightened the tie that went neatly with his suit and jumped up the steps to Emma's apartment, two at a time. In the darkness, he spotted a red rose stuck to the doorknob and smiled. He lifted it and brought it to his nose, smelling its fresh scent. He opened the door and was only faced with darkness inside.
"Hello? Emma?" he called, and flipped the light switch.
Her apartment was the same cutesy, clinically clean space as it always was, but it was disturbingly silent. Was she still at the school, finishing paperwork?
"It's me," he called again.
He looked around and his eye caught the sight of a champagne glass chilling in an ice bucket on the coffee table next to two long stemmed flute glasses. He smiled nervously and saw a small square of paper that simply said 'Upstairs'. He picked up the piece of paper and slowly walked up the staircase. Candles flickered along the stairway and rose petals were strewn on the landing. He glanced at his watch. 8:07.
He opened Emma's bedroom door to see soft lighting and a bump under the clean bedsheets. A mess of red hair poked out at the top and at the bottom, her dainty feet stuck out. He opened his mouth but the words got caught in his throat when he noticed Emma's feet were still and slightly blue and when he turned up the dimmer switch, he saw blood spilling over the side of the bed.
xxx
"So, was it horrible?"
Buffy and the rest of the New Directions shivered outside the school next to an empty bus that Mr. Schuester was supposed to drive.
"It wasn't too horrible," Buffy shrugged as she stood next to Tina, rubbing her own arms and thinking about 'the talk' she'd had briefly with her mother, when her phone buzzed in her purse.
She took out her cellphone and saw Will's name blinking on the screen. "Hello?" she answered.
"Buffy?" Will replied.
"Will! Where are you? Morgan's close to ditching-"
"Emma... Ms. Pillsbury... She's been killed."
Buffy's face fell and a ball formed in her throat so that she couldn't speak.
"Buffy?" Tina raised a worried eyebrow at her friend's crestfallen face, "What's wrong...?"
Buffy dropped the phone and Tina quickly picked it up and pressed it to her ear as the other glee clubbers fell silent, sensing the disturbance. "Mr. Schuester...?" Tina answered.
"Tina... Santana killed Emma."
"What?" Tina gasped in anguish, "No..."
"Tina?" Mike called.
"Oh my God, what's wrong?" Rachel asked the girls, alarmed.
It wasn't long until the teenagers had piled into each other's cars and were speeding to Mr. Schuester's apartment, and then to Ms. Pillsbury's when they couldn't find him. Mike spilled out of his car with Buffy, Tina, Rachel and Quinn, and Dave Karofsky's Hummer pulled up with the other seven in it.
"Is he here?" asked Sam as they got out of the car.
"We didn't check yet. He wasn't at the station?" asked Buffy.
"The cops said he already left by the time we got there," said Puck.
"I don't get it," said Artie as Mercedes helped him out of the truck, "Why Ms. Pillsbury? She was so... harmless."
"Because Santana's a blood-sucking coward. They pick on the harmless," Mike said harshly.
"And we're sure it was Santana?" asked Sam.
"It was Santana alright," Buffy said certainly.
"Why would Santana Lopez kill someone?" Piper Saberhagen squeaked.
"There's a lot you guys don't know," Buffy said simply, her eyes darting from Piper to Dave, "But we don't have time to explain."
"Is Ms. Pillsbury going to, you know... change?" asked Mercedes.
"No," said Buffy, "Come on, let's see if he's inside."
Led by Buffy, they raced up the steps to Ms. Pillsbury's apartment, ducking under the yellow crime scene tape. Buffy pushed open Ms. Pillsbury's already slightly ajar front door and poked her head in.
"Hello...? Will...?" she called.
Buffy stepped into Ms. Pillsbury's impossibly clean apartment, followed by the others who were unusually quiet. They started to fan out, looking around. Rachel's eyes floated over the ice bucket of champagne, the scattered rose petals and the champagne flutes.
"It looks like they had plans for the night," said Tina.
"Will didn't set this up," Buffy said coldly, "Santana did. This is the pretty wrapping paper she put Ms. Pillsbury's body in."
"Poor Mr. Schuester," Brittany said sadly.
"He's not here," said Quinn.
"He'll be wherever Santana is," Buffy realized.
"He's going to try to kill her?" Brittany asked quietly.
"It's about time somebody did," said Mike.
"Mike!" Tina snapped.
"I'm sorry, but things have gotten pretty twisted lately," said Mike, "And if Mr. Schuester wants to go after the fiend who killed his girlfriend, then I say, let him."
"You're right," Buffy said flatly, "There's only one thing wrong with Will's revenge scenario."
"And what's that?" asked Mike.
"It's gonna get him killed."
xxx
"Are you insane?!" Spike yelled as he rolled around the flat space of the lair, "You were supposed to kill the bitch, not leave gag gifts for her friends. If you ask me, I prefer the old Buffy-whipped Santana because the new and improved one is definitely not playing with a full set."
Snix smirked from the opposite side of the long, old dining table, next to Drusilla, who was playing absentmindedly with her puppy. "You didn't like it?"
"Oh, don't get me wrong, I love a good slaughter as much as the next bloke, but your hijinks are only gonna leave us with one incredibly brassed-off slayer."
"Don't worry, rollerboy," Snix smiled, "We don't have anything to worry about. I've got everything under control."
Glass shattered against the table and Drusilla gasped as a roar of flames exploded. Snix jumped back from the Molotov cocktail, and spun around. An arrow suddenly pierced through her shoulder and she grunted loudly, stumbling back in pain. She looked down and pulled the arrow from her shoulder, wincing in pain. She threw it down, a small amount of blood on her hands, and looked up to see Will striding calmly towards her with a Louisville Slugger in his hands and hate in his eyes.
He walked towards the table and stuck the baseball bat into the flames, and rushed over and slammed Snix in the arm with the flaming bat. Snix gasped in pain and fell to the floor, smiling ruefully.
"Whatever happened to wooden stakes?"
Will hit her again in the head, making a bloody gash on her forehead. "They don't hurt enough."
Drusilla made a move to step towards the fight, but Spike calmly gripped her wrist. "Ah, no, no fair going into the ring unless she tags you first."
Will swung his bat and Snix caught it swiftly in her hand. "Okay, you've had your fun, but you know what it's time for now?" Snix shot up and grabbed Will in a chokehold.
Snix felt a hard thud in her kidney and turned to see Buffy standing there, fury on her face.
"Mine," she said and punched Snix again in the face, as Will fell to the floor, unconscious.
Spike and Drusilla escaped into the shadows as the table was engulfed in flames and the fire started to lick at the wooden crates and tall chairs. Snix punched at Buffy and tried to run, but Buffy sprinted forward and kicked at the vampire's legs, tripping her up. Snix spun around and trapped Buffy under her.
"You know, even when I feed off other girls, the name I scream out is always yours," she smiled wickedly.
Buffy eyes were caught by Will, still unconscious in the ground as the flames began to approach him. She punched Snix off of her and jumped up, grabbing Will and dragging him out of the lair. Snix had already fled when Will started to cough and wake up in the cold outside air.
"Buffy!" Rachel called, as she, Tina, Quinn, Sam and Mike ran up to them.
"Are you okay?" asked Tina.
Buffy nodded as Will stood on his own, looking angry.
"Why did you come here?" he asked, annoyed, "This was not your figh-"
Buffy threw a punch and hit Will square in the jaw. "You bastard!" she spat.
"You don't understand-"
"What were you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed? You can't! You can't leave me alone! Not now. I can't do this by myself!"
Will's eyes welled with tears, despair draining the fight out of him. "...Emma."
xxx
The glee club had been invited the funeral. White lilies were everywhere. Quinn sang 'Swing Low, Sweet Chariot'. Emma's crying parents threw fresh dirt into her grave. The entire time, tears were stuck in Will's blue eyes, but they never fell.
"In my years as a watcher, I've buried... too many people," he said to Buffy as they quietly watched the funeral goers slowly walk back to the church after the burial, "Some I knew... most I didn't. Emma was the first one I loved."
"Sometimes I wonder if any good comes of it," said Buffy.
"Comes of what?"
"Falling in love. Letting your emotions call the shots for you. If there's an upside, I've never found it. But you're right about that rule of yours. You're the watcher, I'm the slayer. We don't have to luxury of passion. It just gets in the way. Life is easier without it."
"Yeah. Except without it... it's not life."
Buffy frowned sadly. "I'm sorry I couldn't kill her when I had the chance... but I think I'm finally ready. Because I know now there's nothing that can change her back to the Santana I fell in love with."
Passion. It drives some to distraction, some to vengeance. Passion is the source of hope and the cause of despair. It is the source of life and the cause of death.
- 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'