Bring Me To Life – A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event

Part 63

Empty Places, Part 5


Sunnydale, California

Summers Residence, 1630 Revello Drive - Dawn's room

5:39 p.m.

Days Left Before the End of Days: 10


Closing the door to her room, a stressed-out Dawn sighed as she threw herself on the bed.

She closed her eyes. Then, giving up on taking a nap, just lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.

There were too many thoughts in her head for her to take a nap.

The disappearance of her sister Buffy.

Connor still missing and unaccounted for after his running away from home.

The town having descended into chaos since The First went on the air for the "Broadcast from Hell."

She sighed again, unhappily. All she wanted was for…

…for things to go back to the way they were.

A happier time.

When her mom was alive.

When Tara was alive.

When Angel hadn't left town and was still the big brother / pseudo-crush she had growing up.

When Xander was happy and whole and still with both his eyes.

When Buffy was the Buffy she remembered, brave and forthright and uncompromising, not whatever her older sister had become now that was willing to sacrifice the ones she loved to save the world.

Hell, she would even take just a few days ago, when Connor was still here. Still with them. Still with her.

She reached over on her nightstand and absently grabbed one of Connor's shirts. It had accidentally ended up in her wash a few nights ago. She had been meaning to give it back to him, before he had run off.

It was a simple navy blue shirt, long sleeves, no logos, nothing otherwise special about it. Simple, yet practical. A lot like Connor himself, Dawn smiled sadly to herself.

She squeezed the shirt tightly against her chest, inhaling its fresh scent against her nose. If she imagined hard enough, she might be able to smell the bits of cinnamon and dirt and everything that made up Connor's wonderful, addictive masculine scent. She remembered the last time he wore it. It was during their training session a day before Buffy had woken up from her mini-coma. He had insisted on getting Dawn to train as a way to get her mind off of the gloom and worry about worrying for her sister in her delicate state. Dawn hadn't really wanted to, but endless cajoling from Connor finally made her cave in to her insistent boyfriend's suggestion. Roughly 20 minutes in, she had completely thrown herself into it. It had started with staffs and swings and kicks and blows, and ended with them laughing on the floor in a mix of hugs and soft, tender kisses.

He was one of the few people who really ever "got" her. Just like she was maybe the only one that really understood him.

To think of the sweet, misunderstood boy that had kicked his way into her heart out there in the chaos of these streets, all alone, with no food or shelter, with nobody around to help him, care about him…

Last time I talked to you

You were lonely and out of place

You were looking down on me

Lost out in space

We laid underneath the stars

Strung out and feeling brave

I watched the red orange glow

I watched you float away

Dawn hastily wiped at the tears that threatened to spring to her eyes. She wasn't going to cry, damn it. She wasn't helpless little "Dawnie" that needed to be babysat, she was Dawn Summers. Sister of The Slayer. The Key. A warrior-in-training. A Summers girl. And Summers girls don't do flight…they only do fight, she remembered an old saying her mom used to tell her when she encouraged her to be strong. Summers girls fight…so be a fighter, Dawn.

-Buzz-

-Buzz-

Her cellphone vibrating on her nightstand caught her attention. Reaching over instinctively, she looked at the caller ID.

-NO ID-

For a moment, Dawn wanted to just let it go to voicemail. It might have been another telemarketing call, and she was not in the mood for someone to try and sell her something.

Still…there was the off-chance it could be important, she relented.

She pressed the accept button on her phone. "Hello?"

Silence.

Dawn frowned. "Hell-oo?"

Now Dawn was getting annoyed. She hated these weirdo calls with no answer. "Okay, hanging up in 3…2…"

Then it was the sound on the other end of the line that caught her attention. A sound of rioting. Looting.

The call was coming from Sunnydale, she realized.

For a moment her heart leapt. Surely, that couldn't mean…

"...C-Connor?"

She said his name with a hopeful, hushed tone. Like she didn't want to scare him away.

More silence, yet she could hear the sound of his breath on the other side. It had to be him, she realized. It just had to be!

Down here in the atmosphere

Garbage and city lights

You've gone to save your tired soul

You've gone to save their lives

I turned on the radio

To find you on satellite

I'm waiting for this sky to fall

I'm waiting for a sign

"Connor, is...is that you?" she asked, a little louder but still filled with hope. With longing.

Yet more silence answered her.

Nothing.

The only sign of life seemed to be the loud noises coming from the streets. The sounds of chaos.

Part of Dawn wanted to give up, but the other part, made up mostly of her heart, refused to give up on him. Would never give up on him.

All we are

Is all so far

So Dawn took a deep breath, and did what she did best: start talking.

"Con…Con, where are you?" she asked, her voice wavering. "We're all worried about you. I…" she swallowed hard, trying to keep the lump in her throat from forming. "...I miss you."

The silence on the other side of the line was almost deafening. Making Dawn's heart sink further…

"...Me too."

The raspy, pained voice on the other side of the phone made Dawn stand up, her lips trembling, her watering eyes looking gratefully to the sky, thankful that the boy she cared so, so much about was finally reaching out to her.


Sunnydale, California - River Drive

Same Time


With his ear pressed to the phone next to the payphone he was calling from, a red-eyed, trembling Connor took a deep breath, taking comfort in her voice.

Hearing Dawn's beautiful voice was like…like a lifeline.

The only one that he could cling to right now.

The only thing that kept him from feeling like he was drowning.

His entire world was spinning. From the lies. From the fighting.

The violence.

The deaths.

So much death, his tortured thoughts echoed in his mind. My whole life…it's been nothing but death…

Hope you remember me

When you're home sick and need a change

I miss your purple hair

I miss the way you taste

"Dawn…" he began, his voice trembling. He looked down at his blood-stained knuckles. That poor, stupid cop who he savagely beat on the roof. The blood on his hands was still fresh.

"Connor?" Her sweet voice called for him on the other end. "Connor…babe, talk to me. Please…"

God, how he wanted to.

He wanted to tell her everything.

Share everything.

He just…

He really needed her right now.

"I…I did something," Connor blurted out. His hands were shaking, the troubled teenage warrior pressing his hand against the glass. Just thinking about what he did, what he almost did, to that man made him want to throw up.

"What? Tell me," Dawn urged him to keep talking with him.

He wanted to so badly…

But he was afraid.

Afraid of how she might see him if he did.

Like the way he saw himself.

As nothing but a savage.

A beast.

The son of two monsters.

A monster himself.

Dawn held her phone close to her ear, trying so hard to keep calm. Trying so hard not to lose it. For him.

He needs me, she realized. Me. No one else.

"Connor, please," she urged him, a pleading note in her voice. "Talk to me. You can tell me anything, you know that…"

A beat of silence followed.

I know you'll come back someday

On a bed of nails, I'll wait

I'm praying that you don't burn out

Or fade away

"I…I hurt someone," she heard Connor finally croaked out from the other end. She could hear the pain, the horror in his strangled voice. "I didn't want to, God, I didn't want to, but I lost it. I lost it, and I almost…I almost…"

The thing she feared he gave voice to. It was so hard to picture. Connor…her sweet, thoughtful Connor…hurting someone?


"Dawn, I almost lost it," he almost choked out, his breathing becoming ragged. "I could have killed him. I didn't want to, but he had a family and he was gonna leave them, and I snapped, and I just…I could have—"

"But you didn't," Dawn insisted, her heart breaking for the pain, the hurt that he was in. "That's not you, Con. You would never—"

"I almost did," he cut her off, his voice going hoarse with emotion. "...I almost did."

Dawn bit her lip, more cracks in her heart forming. Oh, God…Oh, Connor…

She felt the tears beginning to form in her eyes. "Connor…babe, just come home. Please, please come back home."


Oh, how Connor wanted to. How he needed to.

But…

"I…I don't have a home," Connor whispered brokenly. His eyes misted as the tears he was fighting for so long…his whole life…began to form, watering his vision.

"Connor, that's not true!" Dawn nearly cried out, her eyes pooling with unspilled tears. "You have a home! This is your home! We're your home! There are people here who care about you, need you…"

Love you…


'Need you.' The words sounded like a joke to Connor. His laugh was harsh, short. Mirthless.

All we are

Is all so far

"Need?" He absently banged the glass of the phone booth. "Dawn, I don't belong there. I don't belong anywhere! I'm not supposed to be here. I'm not a person, I'm…" he swallowed bitterly. The tears burned his eyes. "I'm a weapon. Something that kills. Hunts….that's all. Nobody needs me. Nobody ever did."

"That's not true!" a glassy-eyed Dawn repeated again, fervently. He couldn't believe that. She had to make him see. "Connor, I need you! I need you so much! Connor, I…" She swallowed hard. Took a deep breath. And let her heart speak for her. "I love you."


Those words. The words Connor longed to hear from her for so long broke him. The tears fell silently from his face. He couldn't fight them anymore.

Someone loved him.

But he didn't deserve to be loved by her, a dark part of him whispered. Loving her would only put her in harm's way.

Because he was a monster.

He saw that now.

Just like Angel. Like Holtz. Like his mother was.

Loving her will kill her, Connor miserably thought. I can't do that to you, Dawn. I'm sorry...


"Did you hear me, Connor? I said 'I love you'. And I need you…" Dawn felt the tears spill down her eyes, her heart open for him to see. "Please…please come home, we can figure this out, we can—"

CLICK!

The line went dead.

Dawn's eyes widened. No. NO! "Connor? Conner? Conner, please, don't…!"

But only the sound of a dead dial tone answered her.

Shutting her eyes, Dawn let the phone drop from her hand and clatter to the floor. Hurting, no longer able to fight the tears, her heart shattering bit by bit, she leaned against the window of her bedroom and stared into the streets outside, the sun fading in the distance.

Where Connor wandered, lost and alone.

And Dawn silently said a prayer. Praying to whatever gods were listening that the boy she loved would be kept safe…would finally come home.

You're falling back to me

You're a star that I can see, yeah

I know you're out there

Somewhere out there

You're falling out of reach

Defying gravity, yeah

I know you're out there

Somewhere out there


Sunnydale, California - Sunnydale High School

6:14 p.m.

Days Left Before the End of Days: 10


Gunn's armored pickup truck pulled up to the high school, Fred in tow.

Truth be told, Gunn didn't like the looks of it. It was a nice looking building as far as high schools go, but the boarded-up windows and the locks on the doors gave him the creeps.

"Geez," Gunn muttered. "Talk about your fixer-upper."

Even for a guy who grew up in the Badlands of Los Angeles, an area so dangerous and rife with crime and vampires that even the police would not go there, something about this place gave him pause. It was almost like he could feel evil radiating from there now.

Arming her crossbow, a wary Fred was hard pressed to disagree. "I'll say," she said, eying the school with some trepidation. "I think I've seen nicer graveyards. In fact, I'll gladly take one of those instead if I can."

"For sure," Gunn replied, grabbing his ax. "But if Buffy's in there, then in there we go."

He took a look at Fred, a concerned look in his battle-hardened eyes that he saved only for her. "Ready?"

The way he asked the question so gently made Fred's heart pitter-pat just a little quicker. It always did. She summoned a brave smile, locking her crossbow. "Let's go get our friend back," Fred replied, no hesitation in her voice.

Satisfied, Gunn smiled back, and the two exited the truck, armed and ready to begin their search for the missing Buffy Summers.

Inside the school, the halls were now darker than normal thanks to the setting sun. Making the shadows look all the more ominous. All the more like they were concealing some monster in their depths.

Fred never liked the dark. Even after all this time fighting alongside Angel and the gang, she had not quite gotten used to it yet. She tried to adapt to it by summoning the scientist in her. Her curiosity of the unknown, her eagerness to crack the puzzles no one else could.

That's all the dark is, she told herself, clutching her flashlight tightly, her crossbow at the ready. Just another puzzle to crack.

She took comfort in knowing that she wasn't alone. Charles was here, she told herself. While she tiptoed in the dark like a black house cat, he seemed to prowl in it, like a panther, a puma, a jungle cat at home in the dark. Taking the lead ahead of her to scout ahead for danger. All predator. All protector.

She had always loved that about him. How he was always putting others first, before even his own safety. She…missed that, the bashful, pretty genius realized.

Suddenly, Gunn stopped, making Fred alert. "Charles? What's wrong?"

Gunn motioned with his flashlight to where he was looking at. The guidance counselor's office. Where Buffy worked, Fred realized grimly.

On the outside of the office, glass lay everywhere, the window having exploded from the inside out. To the right at the wall outside the office, the wall's plaster was cracked, destroyed. Almost like someone threw a body through it, Gunn realized grimly.

"Fred, cover me," he ordered, quickly swinging into danger mode.

Nodding, Fred automatically brought her crossbow up. Ready to shoot and kill anything that dared threaten him. Having his back, just as he always had hers.

Slowly, Gunn took a few steps inside the office. It didn't take long before his suspicions were confirmed. Office supplies and furniture were strewn and thrown everywhere. Glass, desks, shards of glass. And small drops of blood on the floor.

By his foot, he spotted the desk sign that confirmed it: "Buffy Summers, School Counselor."

"Buffy's desk," he muttered, troubled.

"Oh, my God," Fred breathed in dismay. "So she was here. There was trouble."

"Either that, or she's taking getting fired a lot harder than we thought," Gunn quipped, mostly to lighten his own increasing worry.

The pair stepped back out into the hallway.

"C'mon," Gunn said, his eyes scanning the dark. "We got a lot of ground to cover. Hopefully, she couldn't have gotten far."

A familiar, coldly glib voice came taunting from the dark.

"You ain't wrong, Bubba."

Gunn and Fred alertly spun around to find the owner of that voice.

Caleb.

Standing not a few feet away from them. Lips adorned with that infuriating smirk, dark eyes glinting with malice. His arms were neatly folded behind his back, leaving him wide open.

As if he had nothing to fear from them at all.

"But then again, maybe she decided to get all distracted and flitter off somewhere else," the mad preacher said, a hint of arrogance in his voice. His eyes landed squarely on Fred. "Ain't that just like a bitch?"

Scowling, and feeling her skin crawl at the misogynistic pig in front of her, Fred held her crossbow up and aimed at his head, and wryly zinged back. "You should talk…bitch."

His smirk falling, a look of anger crossed Caleb's handsome, yet madness-tinged features as he took a threatening step towards the tiny Texan genius.

Gunn, unfazed, his ax at the ready, stepped up, protecting Fred. He narrowed his eyes at Caleb, his tone threatening. "Take one step closer, Bible Boy, and you'll be going through life without your rosary beads intact, if you know what I'm saying."

Caleb paused for a moment. Then he smiled at the two heroes. "Well, look at you. Have to give you lot credit. After the thumpin' my boys and I gave y'all back at the vineyard, I figured you'd be at home saying your prayers and repenting, waitin' for the end to come. For salvation. Yet here you are. The sheep walking into the lair of the shepherd. Gotta say…I like your moxie."

"Yeah, that's us. Full of mox and sticks and pointy sharp things," Gunn coldly replied, motioning to his sharp ax. "Wanna see 'em up close?"

Fred had enough of the bantering. "Where's Buffy?" she demanded, angrily. "What did you do to her? Where is she?"

Caleb's smile widened. "The Slayer? Oh, well as you can see, we had a little…" His eyes trailed to the hole in the wall where he threw her body through. "...disagreement."

He held up his hands widely. "So I took it upon myself to enlighten her. Educate her. And give her the spotlight she's been craving for so long. Why, she needs to look her best for her final act! Her big performance is about to begin."

Frustrated, a scowling Gunn had had enough. "Quit with the cryptic, Bowl Cut," he spat, losing his patience with the psychotic ex-clergyman. "Either you tell us where Buffy is, or get ready for your Last Supper, 'cuz things are about to get homicidal up in here, you dig?"

The Muscle of Angel Investigations brandished his sharpened battle ax at Caleb for emphasis, Fred cocking her crossbow at the mad preacher. Each meaning business. Each ready to battle the powerful foe in front of them guns blazing if it meant getting Buffy back.

Caleb's shark-like smile widened. "Well, for once, Mister, uh…Gunn, was it? We seem to be in agreement on something. It is indeed going to get homicidal up in here."

Without warning, several knife-wielding Bringers emerged from the shadows, surrounding Gunn and Fred, who instantly took battle positions.

The sight brought a chuckle to the mad preacher. "Give these fine folks some entertainment, boys. I'm on a busy schedule myself, so I gotta skedaddle. See you soon, lady and gentleman…or not," a smug Caleb drawled, giving them a mockingly friendly wave before he turned left and exited the building.

Looking at the odds around him, a wary Gunn muttered under his breath, "See? This is why I hate school."

And then the fight began.

With a loud war cry, Gunn slashed and hacked at the demon disciples of The First. One of the Bringers came at him, knife aiming for his chest. Swiftly, Gunn parried the blows, the punched it in the gut and kicked the knife out of its hand. One hard swing upwards and..

SCHUCK!

The head of the Bringer bounced off the floor and rolled along, leaving blood and other fluids along its trail.

Using all of his battle instincts, honed over years and years of battles on the streets and sharpened by training with Angel and the other members of the Fang Gang, Gunn began taking each one on from his side. They attacked, he parried. They punched, he threw counterpunches. They swiped at him with their knives, he ducked under and threw elbows and kicks to the kneecaps and swung his ax, burying it deep in the chest of one, before spinning around and slicing through the neck of another Bringer.

He checked to his left to see how Fred was doing, and was pleased to see her handle herself well. Her automatic crossbow buried bolts into the head of one Bringer, then she elbowed one in the face, kicked it back to put space between them and buried a bolt square in its chest. One Bringer managed to grab her by the throat, squeezing hard and rearing back its knife for a fatal blow. But instead of panicking, Fred coughed, narrowed her eyes, and extended her wrist forward. The spring-loaded stake launcher Angel had custom made for her did the rest, impaling itself under the jaw of the Bringer, killing it instantly.

Seeing one Bringer sneak up behind Gunn as he battle two others, Fred shouted, "CHARLES!" before picking up her crossbow and taking aim.

Knowing what that meant from months of combat practice with her, Gunn nimbly twisted his body out of the flying arrow's trajectory, watching as it caught the sneaky Bringer right in the sternum, earning a dying gasp from it. Not one to take chances, Gunn spun on his heels, brought his ax upwards and buried the ax from its neck to its sternum, nearly bisecting the demon as it slumped dead to the floor.

He smashed the handle of his ax against the other one, kicking its knee to bring it down to one knee, and then the ax buried itself in its face. Now, there was only one left. They circle each other briefly, the Bringer with its knife and Gunn with his blood-slicked ax.

"You picked the wrong day to get out of bed, Ray Charles," Gunn warned the blind demon.

The demon attacked and Gunn makes quick work of him, using the ax to flip him up and over his head, spinning around and stomping hard on its throat, making sure to hear the satisfying crack of its larynx and its dying gasp. Gunn calmly turned around…

…only to find a Bringer with a knife at Fred's throat, holding her hostage as her eyes widened in fear.

"Charles…!" she gasped, her crossbow at her feet.

"Hey!" Gunn barked angrily at the demon. He managed to keep his cool despite his heart pounding like crazy at the sight of Fred in distress. "Let her go. Now!"

The demon motioned for Gunn to drop his ax. Getting it quickly, Gunn nodded. "Oh…you want this? Yeah?" Slowly, he took the ax and held it up in front of him in a nonthreatening manner.

"Okay, Bright Eyes, you got it," Gunn said slowly, negotiating with the demonoid disciple. "I'm putting it down, see?" He slowly started to lower down on one knee, lowering the ax inch by inch. All the while, Gunn knew exactly what he had to do. He only had one chance at this, so he had to make the timing perfect…

Without warning, Gunn suddenly heaved the ax towards the Bringer, throwing it hard at the creature so it clattered to its right. Caught off-guard, the Bringer was distracted just for one split second…

That's all it took for Fred to elbow it in the throat, making it drop the knife.

And then Gunn leapt at it, knife in hand, burying his own blade viciously deep in its throat, blood spraying all over the side of the wall as it fell, dead.

Having lost her balance, Fred stumbled and fell…right into the waiting arms of Gunn, who had his arms outstretched to break her fall.

"Fred! I got you! I got you," he panted, relieved. "Are you alright? You okay?"

Dumbly, Fred nodded, taking a moment to gather her breath. "Yeah…yes, Charles, I'm…fine…"

It was only then that she looked up at him, into his eyes, finding her hands at his waist, his strong arms encircling the small of her back. Their eyes met…and Fred was now falling for a completely different reason than losing her balance.

Gunn said nothing, only losing himself in her soft, dark brown eyes, those eyes that held him in such sway for as long as he'd known her.

For the longest time, they merely held each other. Lost in the unexpected embrace of each other. Just like it was before…

…before…

Blushing, Fred slowly broke their embrace first, backing away, but just a step. "So, um…thanks," she mumbled, embarrassed.

Gunn felt colder without her in his arms already. Composing himself, he nodded. "No problem," he said quietly, though he offered her a smile. "You still pack a punch, though."

Now she allowed herself a smile, shrugging. "Well, I'm no Charles Gunn, but…I get by."

They stared at each other for another brief moment…

"So, um," Fred abruptly shook her head, trying to get back to the task at hand: finding Buffy. "We better get back to finding Buffy. All we know is that Caleb was here, and he's the reason she's been missing."

Gunn didn't like this new development at all. Not after he'd seen what this psycho Caleb was capable of. "Do you think he took her back to the vineyard? Like he did with Faith?"

Fred paused, her eyes following a small trail of blood leading away from the office. Buffy's blood, she realized coldly.

"No, wait," she said, her brilliant mind homing in on something that Caleb was babbling about earlier. "Remember when he was going on and on about what he did with Buffy?"

Gunn frowned, not following it. "Yeah, something about a disagreement, and educating her?"

Fred shook her head, scrunching her brow as she began putting the clues together. "No. He said 'final act.' And something about a spotlight, and that 'her big performance is about to begin.' Spotlight, performance, final act…those are theater terms. So where in school would we be able to find a theater?"

As if a lightbulb lit up in both of their minds, Gunn and Fred turned to each other, their eyes widened in realization.

"The auditorium," they both uttered at the same time, picking up their discarded weapons and running down the hall, following the red-streaked trail.

Gunn wasted no time kicking open the door of the auditorium as the two heroes entered, weapons in hand, ready to take on any threat that lay in wait…

…but neither of them were prepared for what they saw next.

"Oh, my God," breathed Fred in horror.

Gunn could only stare in shock, as well…

With a giant spotlight on her, suspended above the floor, almost to the ceiling, there hung Buffy Summers. Bound, unconscious, bloodied.

And tied to a cross.

On the stage background behind her, painted in giant, crude, red letters read a strange message:

"Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?"

"Jesus," Gunn swore, stunned at the horrific display in front of him.

"Charles, come on, we need to cut her down!" Fred said urgently, trying to snap him out of his shock. "Now! Hurry!"

It took a few minutes before they were able to work the gears to lower the cross holding Buffy back down to the floor.

"Buffy? Buffy! Buffy, please, wake up, are you okay?" a concerned and frantic Fred asked, gently patting the Slayer's bruised face for any kind of response. "Buffy!"

Gunn hurriedly began cutting the bonds that tied Buffy to the crucifix, freeing her limbs once again before he gently scooped up the tiny Slayer and settled her onto the floor. As Fred tried to get a response from her, Gunn took a look to his side…

…and found a bunch of disturbing photographs of Buffy left discarded on the floor.

Each of them in different positions and angles of her bound on the cross. A broken savior. A fallen hero.

Gunn wasn't religious much, but the sick and twisted message Caleb was going for was not lost on him.

Silently, he grabbed the pictures and put them in his pocket. No need for anyone else to see Buffy like this, he decided. He wouldn't let her go through that humiliation.

Suddenly, Buffy's eyes flew open and she gasped, looking around wildly.

"Buffy! Oh, thank God," Fred sighed, relieved. "Are you okay?"

She scrunched her sensitive eyes as her vision began coming into focus again. "F…Fred?" she rasped out. "Gunn…?"

Gunn managed to crack a small smile. "Hey. You had us worried, girl. Thought we'd pay a visit to see how you were."

Dazed, her mind still a scrambled eggs mess of jumbled thoughts, Buffy could barely register Fred's or Gunn's words. Her eyes widened in panic suddenly. "Caleb! Where is…?"

"He's gone," Gunn said, frowning as he thought of the psychopath who did this to her. "We chased him outta here a few minutes ago."

Buffy slowly tried to get up, only to be stopped by Fred. "Wait! Buffy, we should get you to a hospital. You've been beaten up pretty bad."

Immediately, Buffy shook her head. "I don't do…hospitals, Fred. Just…help me up. I'll be fine."

Gunn wasn't convinced. "Buffy, you really should get a check-up, you could be…"

"No hospital!" Buffy blurted out, a short sense of panic overtaking her. Off Gunn's surprised expression, Buffy tried to calm down. "I…just need to get on my feet. I'm fine. Promise."

Relenting, they helped Buffy slowly up to her feet, Buffy leaning on both of them for support as they helped her down the stage.

It was then that Buffy caught sight of the cross, and the cut ropes, and the giant message in red on the stage. Despite her head trauma, Buffy was able to put it together, with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Caleb…he put me on that…didn't he?" Buffy quietly asked.

Taking a deep breath, Fred grimly nodded. "Yeah. Um…you were hanging up there when we found you. God, it was horrible."

"At least the jackass is committed to his Bible shtick," Gunn said, though he shook his head in disgust.

Buffy didn't really need an answer. She already knew. It would have been just like Caleb to want to rub a win in her face. To want to display her like that. Like a trophy.

Like a prized kill he could hang over his mantle.

The thought made The Slayer sick to her stomach.

"We should call the others," Gunn said to Fred. "Tell them we found Buffy."

"No, wait!" Buffy blurted out, suddenly panicked. "Gunn, tell them you found me, but don't tell them what happened. Not…not yet."

It took only a moment for Gunn to figure it out. After the beatdown that Caleb had given the White Hats a few nights ago, the last thing Buffy wanted to do was to panic the troops even more with news that this frightening new enemy had just beaten her easily for a second time. And besides…there was probably no way he figured she would want them to know what Caleb did to her next. She didn't need the humiliation nor the hit to morale this close to The Awakening.

Off Fred's nod and Buffy's pleading eyes, Gunn relented, nodding in agreement to Buffy's wishes.

Relieved, a still dazed and rather embarrassed and deflated Buffy took a last look at the red letters on the stage. The phrase ominously scrawled there sent a chill up her bruised spine.

"What the hell does that mean?" she asked, in confusion and dread.

Fred, swallowing hard, solemnly explained it to Buffy. "It says 'Quis custodiet ipsos custodes'. It's Latin. It means…" She turned her grave eyes to The Slayer. "'Who Guards the Guardians?'"

Buffy's eyes widened as the meaning of the words hit home for her, her cheeks flushed red in humiliation, rage...while her eyes betrayed a hint of fear.

"Why would Preacher Man want to write that crazy shit?" Gunn asked, furrowing his eyebrows in puzzlement.

"I'm The Slayer, Gunn," Buffy explained, a knot of fear tightening in her stomach. "That means I'm Guardian of the Hellmouth. The same Hellmouth that's right in this school."

Buffy swallowed hard, a chill passing through her, freezing her. "It was a message. Not just from Caleb. From The First. He's saying, that if I can't protect myself…how can I protect the Hellmouth?"

The words, the meaning haunted The Slayer. "If I can't protect myself…how can I protect the world?"

As she stared at the blood-red letters, Buffy didn't know what scared her more: the question…

…or that she had no idea what the answer was.

And very little time to figure it out…


To Be Continued...


Next: It's Dance Night in Sunnydale! With the troops on edge, Faith and the others decide to loosen them up with dancing, drinking and more daring escapades at The Bronze. Sparks will fly on the dance floor, and more than just a few hearts might get broken before the night is through. But what will an already on-edge, wounded Buffy think once she finds out? And will it put her on a collision course with Faith?

Meanwhile, Angel is hot on the trail of a serial killer, with lives in the balance. And what mayhem do The First and its minions have in store with the Awakening still days away?


A/N: The lyrics mentioned in the Dawn/Connor scene are from the hit song "Somewhere Out There", from Our Lady Peace. Check it out! Thanks to everyone for sticking to this story. Your feedback is always appreciated! Please read, follow and review!

More on the way soon! Peace!

-Jean-theGuardian