BRING ME TO LIFE

A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event

Part 71

Empty Places, Part 10


California, U.S.A - U.S. Route 101

1:27 a.m.

Days Left Before the End of Days: 9


The bike was a monster; Spike rode it like a rebel.

Bad man, on a bad machine.

In his fantasy, sweet, sexy Faith would have her long dancer's legs wrapped around him calling him "Daddy" by now...

Except in sour reality…

…it was chattering and ripe-smelling Andrew on the back, in Dawn's old football helmet.

And Faith had made it painfully, emphasis on 'painfully', clear to him that she was not willing any longer to explore the growing connection between them.

And it hurt.

God, how it hurt. And Spike hated it.

Hated that he couldn't stop thinking about it.

That he couldn't stop thinking about her.

That it wasn't eating away at this new soul of his that Faith didn't trust him.

That she blamed him for something and he still didn't know what it was. That whatever had happened to her down in the vineyard was causing her so much pain, so much suffering and that she wouldn't let him help her, no matter how much he wanted to. And that instead of just giving up on it, that he had become fixated on it, maddened by it. Driven by the need to break through to her. To help her. To get her to trust him.

To let him in.

You never learn, do you, ya clod? He chided himself. Some pretty bird with a little power in her flies your way and you'll abandon everything to chase it down. No matter how many rocks you stub your toesies on to do it. Pathetic, when you think about it.

Spike was focusing on the road, and trying ever-so-hard not to focus on his tortured thoughts of Faith, but Andrew was focusing on the adventure.

"So, are we going to take a bathroom break anytime soon? Because I may have to pee," Andrew said, all antsy and, well, Andrew about it.

"There's a rest stop not too far from here, little fella. Hold it in," Spike said sternly. "You piss on my bike, you end up under it. You understand?"

Gulping, Andrew nodded.

More silence.

"It's just that holding it in too long might affect my ability to have children," Andrew whined.

Spike turned over his shoulder briefly, cocked an eyebrow at the nerdling. "Oh yeah, it'll have nothing to do with the fact that you're 90 pounds soaking wet, are a massive shut-in and walk around in public with that haircut," Spike sniped.

At that vicious swipe, Andrew sulked. "You're right. I know. Nobody really gets me." He mused silently. "It must be great being you, huh? You get to have the cool vampire powers, and the good hair, and the hot chicks like Faith—"

At the mention of Faith's name, Spike's unbeating heart painfully constricted. He pursed his lips tightly. "Hey, here's an idea. Why don't we play the Quiet Game for the rest of the trip? I'll even give you a head start."

Andrew frowned, but got the hint.

The silence extended for a little while.

Until…

"Sorry about the Faith thing," Andrew said. "I…I heard that she's not been adjusting well after the whole 'surviving brutal torture' thing. I feel really bad about that."

Spike said nothing, just kept his eyes on the road, trying to ignore Andrew, block out the melancholy thoughts about Faith that his words stirred up.

"It can't be easy for you, either," Andrew mused sadly. "Watching the woman you love going through something that painful, shutting you out, wanting to do the brave heroine thing and deal with it herself, it's like that 'DeGrassi' episode when Darcy and Peter were—"

Spike looked back at him, defensively, almost angrily. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, pump the brakes, Urkel—'love'? Who said I was in love with Faith?"

Andrew smiled knowingly at him. "Well, it's not exactly a secret, Spike." He rolled his eyes. "It's so obvious. You two have that whole Maddie Hayes-David Addison bickering romance thing going on for you, you know, from that old TV show 'Moonlighting? 'I never thought Bruce Willis got enough credit for that role, y'know? Everyone loves his John McLane stuff from 'Die Hard' but—"

"Yeah, I remember the show, ya muppet," Spike snapped, irritated. "And you're wrong. Faith and I aren't…" He broke off, not able to finish. Not liking where this conversation was leading. Not even remotely ready for it. "I mean I'm not…and she hasn't…and she just…" Damn it, why is this so hard to say?

Andrew gave him a sympathetic glance. "I know exactly what you mean, buddy." He paused. "For what it's worth…I think she loves you, too."

Spike scoffed at that, returning his eyes to the road.

Then he paused.

Then he thought about it.

Then he really thought about it.

Then he looked back at Andrew. "How do you figure?" he asked, curious. And hating that he was asking Andrew, of all people.

"Oh, come on, Spike," Andrew said with a rare confidence. "I've seen the way she looks at you. She's got it bad for you, man. It's like in the movies when the bad girl has the hots for a guy, but she plays like she doesn't so that he keeps interested, y'know?"

"Then why hasn't she said anything?" Spike asked, for argument's sake. And frankly, because it was kind of…nice to be able to talk to someone about how he was feeling about Faith lately. "Why all the games? Why all the burning hoops to jump through?"

Andrew shrugged. "Well, can you blame her? I mean, from what I hear, you and Buffy had some kind of complicated semi-relationship-thing. That's gotta have her asking questions about how serious you are. Then there's her whole past. I mean, she's been in jail and she turned evil for a little while, and I'm guessing she probably hasn't had a good homelife growing up or a lot of stable relationships, so obviously she's got trust issues. Muy heavy emotional baggage. It's kinda funny, when you think about it. For a girl named Faith, she doesn't seem to have much of it in other people."

Spike stayed silent. Taking that in. Processing those words.

"I guess, my point is…she's been through a lot, Spike," Andrew rationalized, a rare moment of wisdom for the often-immature sci-fi geek. "She's still going through a lot, after what happened to her in the vineyard. She guards her heart fiercely because that's all she has left. And it's been hurt a lot, I'll bet, so she won't want to show it to just anyone. She isn't going to want to open up easily. She'll fight you tooth and nail on that. But if you're patient enough, if you're willing to take the blows, if you're willing to wait…who knows? Maybe she'll be willing to open her heart to you, after all."

It was as if a light bulb went on in his head. He had been so busy focusing on his own need for Faith to open up to him that he hadn't been able to see things from her point of view. Spike got that now. Her whole life had been made up of one traumatic event after another. She'd lost friends, boyfriends, her Watcher, a few months and days of her life from comas, her sense of self…and now her sanity seemed to be slipping away, too.

Spike knew firsthand what trauma was like. Had a full century of experience with it. He knew that dealing with that kind of stuff was never easy. Was hard, so, so hard. That it was going to take a lot of work for Faith to want to open up. It would be like trying to pick the locks at Fort Knox.

But that was fine with him, he realized with a small smile. If there was anything he'd learned after a century-plus of living, it was how to be patient when he had to be. He wasn't always good at it, but he could do it.

For Faith, he decided, he would do it.

Another long stretch of silence came between the two unlikely travel companions as they rode down the long, winding highway.

Then Andrew anxiously suggested, "You sure you don't want to stop and pick up some burgers or something? You know, road trip food?"

"I'm a vampire, burgers won't cut it with me. And it's not a road trip, you dateless git," Spike growled at him, annoyed at yet another reminder that this chattering nerdling was here. "It's a covert operation."

"Right." Andrew nodded meekly. "Right. Gotcha."

They drove in silence for another beat.

"I bet even covert operatives eat curly fries. James Bond would totally eat a curly fry," Andrew ventured. "They're really good."

Spike wryly smirked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, yeah. You and James Bond have so much in common."

There was a moment.

Then Spike gave a little. "Still…they're not as good as those onion blossom things."

"I love those!" Andrew cried, enthusiastically.

"Yeah, me, too," Spike allowed.

"It's an onion, yet it's a flower," Andrew murmured appreciatively. "I don't understand how such a thing is possible."

But Spike knew, and he was proud of it. "See, the genius is, if you soak it in ice water for an hour or so, it holds its shape. Then you deep fry it root-side-up for about five minutes."

"Masterful," Andrew crooned.

"Yeah." Spike was wistful, too…

Then the infamous vampire realized what he was doing.

Frowning, he looked over his shoulder at Andrew and growled, "Just so you know, Double-O-Dork? If you tell anyone any part of this conversation, I'll eat you."

"Okay," Andrew said timidly, his smile now gone.

And on they went along the highway without another word. . . .


Sunnydale, California - The Summers Home, 1630 Revello Drive

The same time


With nary a soul in sight, Wesley's car pulled up in front of the Summers driveway.

In the driver's seat, sat Wesley. Brow creased in thought, thoughts all a-jumble from the many developments of this chaotic night out.

In the passenger seat, sat Faith. Her gaze was solemn, sad, yet somehow hopeful. Thoughts of missed opportunity, missed chance at romance, clouding her mind, and yet…somewhere in there, sprang a seedling of hope.

In the back seat, sat Cordelia. Tears still clouding her vision. Her thoughts were forlorn, full of heartache and fresh heartbreak.

Silently, all of them mused on the stunning events of this evening…


Two hours earlier

The Bronze - Outside


Not uttering a single word, Wesley stared at Darla, listening intently as she finished her story.

How she got her vampire-like powers back through some unusual transference from the mental mind walk to save Cordelia through Willow's spell.

How she had been keeping all of it a secret, not knowing what it meant.

How she had been scared to truly find out, fearing that she might have been closer to returning to what she was before; a ruthless, cold-blooded predator who spilled innocent blood as easily as people breathed.

"...and I've just been trying to figure it out ever since," Darla softly confessed, part of her relieved that she could finally share this with someone now. Yet another part of her was nervous. Scared. Wondering what was going on behind Wesley's pensive, probing blue eyes.

The former Watcher shook his head. "You should have told me," he insisted, part of him angry with Darla for keeping this from him. And another part of him hurt at the thought of how maybe Darla didn't truly trust him enough to share such a secret, no matter how much…closer…they've become. "Didn't you trust me?"

Darla gave him a pleading look, silently begging for him to understand. "I didn't trust me, Wesley," she emphasized the last part, pointing to her own chest. "Do you have any idea how scary keeping this has been? How scared I was? Thinking I was going to turn back into a monster? The same one that caused so much suffering to so many people, some of them people I want to earn trust from, like Buffy or Angel? Like Connor?" She swallowed thickly. "Scared that you might…might not want me around anymore?"

Wesley's eyes softened at that. He, of all people, knew what fear of rejection was like. All too well, especially since the dark event of the last year for him.

"You never need to be frightened of that," he said softly, unconsciously reaching for her hand, taking it in his own. Marveling at how soft it was, how…right it felt in his own.

Darla could feel the sparks flying from his simple touch, his earnest, soft-spoken words, the intense look in his piercing blue eyes. It had been a very long time since someone had truly looked at her that way. Not with wanton lust, like so many customers from her first life as a prostitute. Not with expectations and demands or a need to dominate her, like the Master. Not with raw desire absent of real emotions, like Angelus. Not with lecherous intent deluding itself to be love, like Lindsey in the early days she knew him.

This, she realized as she stared up into Wesley's ardent, heartfelt cobalt gaze, was real. It was true. It was passionate and forthright and…and good. He was looking past her body, her beauty, all the masks she used to survive for hundreds of years, and he somehow saw her. The real her.

And Darla adored him for it, she realized.

"Wesley…" she softly whispered, staring at him in awe.

Wesley had no idea why, but…he trusted Darla. He needed to trust her, he realized. It was almost insane to him, but in the darkness that had consumed his life since his terrible mistake with Connor that ruined so many lives, in that self-loathing that he had sunken into like quicksand, somehow Darla had become his only light in the darkness. He remembered all the Watcher's Files on her; deadly. Merciless. Cunning and diabolical. A predator that lured her victims in like a black widow waiting in her web before she sucked them dry of all life.

None of those things had been in this woman that he had come to know, who he had found himself dreaming about lately. Whoever this Darla was, all he knew was that he had felt something for her that he had not felt in seemingly a lifetime. And that was worth protecting. She was worth protecting. At all costs.

Time seemed to stand still as the two hurting, lonely souls fell deeper into each other's eyes, their lips getting closer…

A sudden, swift wind broke their reverie, directing Darla's attention towards a nearby cemetery. Where she had a feeling her wayward, confused son was escaping through.

She turned to Wesley with apologetic eyes. "I have to go," she said regretfully. "I have to find Connor."

"Wait, let me go with you," Wesley insisted, wanting to help her. Wanting to help make it right with Connor, the boy whose life he inadvertently ruined. "I can help you, Darla. I…want to help him, too."

She gave him a sad look and shook her head. "I know. But you can help them more."

Wesley's eyes turned bitter for a moment, realizing she was referring to his…former…friends. "They don't need me," he muttered darkly, looking away for a moment.

She gave him a sad look, placing her hand to his cheek and softly guiding his handsome, frowning face to hers. "They need you more than you think," she assured him, giving him a knowing look. "And so does Faith."

Wesley scoffed, not quite believing it himself. "Come on, Darla, Faith? She doesn't need me. She…she barely can stand me. She doesn't—"

"Yes. She does," Darla insisted softly. "And maybe…maybe there's a part of you that needs her, too. To be a Watcher. To be what you're meant to be."

Her eyes shone at him with a…well, with a faith…that he hadn't seen anyone look at him with in a very long time. A belief in him that made him feel like maybe he wasn't just a pariah, an unwanted castoff looking to redeem himself. That maybe…just maybe…he could do some good.

"Wesley, she's going to need you. Before this is all over, they're all going to need you," she promised him. "Don't ask me how I know that. I just…I have a feeling."

"How?" Wesley asked, genuinely confused. "How could you possibly know that? What am I supposed to do?"

She gently brushed her thumb across his cheek tenderly, giving him a wistful smile. "What you've always tried to do…your best."

Wesley felt his hardened heart move at her words, her conviction in him.

"I have to go," she said mournfully. "Connor needs me. My son's out there, and I can't leave him alone out there. I have to find him."

As she moved to go, Wesley found it hard to let go of her hand. "Darla, wait," he insisted, urgently. "What if—?"

Suddenly, her hand reached up around his neck and pulled his head down to hers.

Their lips met, crushing against each other.

Tenderly.

Passionately.

The sweetest, most mournful farewell.

Wesley drew back as the kiss ended, dazed and enraptured. "Darla…"

She silenced his protests with a soft finger raised to his lips.

"I'll be back, Wesley." Her soft blue eyes met his, a silent vow in them. "I promise."

Wesley could only nod, having no other choice but to respect her wishes.

Silently, their hands slowly slipped out of each other's grasp, Darla giving him one last, ardent gaze before she slipped away into the dark of the night to find her lost son.

Wesley could only stare after Darla, his heart wanting to follow her, protect her, but his head telling him that she was right. As scary as it was, he was needed here. And he knew that. He had unfinished business here.

The jaded former Watcher could only try and carry on, to prove her faith in him right…and hope that the ethereal blonde beauty that had stolen his heart would return to him soon.

Back into his arms, where he was starting to believe she belonged…


The Bronze - Same time


Amid the sound of music and the smell of booze, Xander sat miserably at the bar, swigging what felt like his umpteenth shot of whiskey.

Reeking of failure, heartache and booze, just like his loser of a father, he mused in silent agony.

Drunk as he had become, he began to realize what an ass he had made of himself.

Against all odds, against all probability and logic, and amid the misery of the last year…from his failed engagement to Anya to Tara's death and Willow's nearly-apocalyptic magical bender to his maiming at the hands of that psychopath Caleb…somehow, someway, the universe had given him a way back to Cordelia Chase. Beautiful, intelligent, legs-for-days, honest-to-an-offensive-fault, protective and secretly sweet Cordelia. He got a do-over, a chance to start again and make up for one of his biggest failures and regrets when he ruined their passionate and promising romance.

For the first time since he had left Anya at the altar over his own fears, things were finally starting to look up for Xander Harris…

…only for him to wreck them all again, for no other reason other than his own inadequacies, he mused in self-loathing. He cursed himself, cursed his stupidity, his self-pitying, his…whatever it was inside of him that just couldn't stop sabotaging himself, preventing him from being happy for whatever reason.

It's nothing, it's so normal you

You just stand there, I could say so much

But I don't go there 'cause I don't want to

Absently, Xander found himself humming to a song that he heard in the background played between sets while the band rested. "Back 2 Good" from Matchbox 20, a favorite of Xander's from back in the day. A song about the end of a romantic relationship, he recalled, about, as singer Rob Thomas put it, "screwing up so often that you become used to it." The irony was not lost on Xander, feeling as though the gods or the Powers That Be that he heard Cordelia and occasionally Giles talk about were really getting a kick out of twisting the knife in the gut of his misery.

Maybe Cordy's right, he thought in misery. Maybe I really can't allow myself to be happy. Why?

"I'd love to know that myself," Lorne replied, answering his question as he finished pouring another round to a different patron. He had silently decided to cut Xander off for the night, as it was obvious to anyone with eyes that the one-eyed construction worker was wasted.

Xander stared at him questioningly, a little fearfully, wondering if the green-skinned anagogic demon had read his mind.

Lorne shook his head at that. "You were humming to yourself just now to that tune they're playing," he smirked mirthlessly at Xander. "Matchbox 20, great band, but boy, could they do depressing when they want to, eh? I mean, they're no Sarah McLachlan, but man, they could kick you right between the feels when they want to."

Xander chuckled, though it was a sad, heavy sound absent of joy or mirth or hope. "I know the feeling," he muttered, lost in the quicksand of heartache and misery and alcohol.

Lorne shook his head, smiling sadly at the wounded Heart of the Scoobies. "Come on, Slim…go after her," he encouraged gently. "I'll bet you that if you just say you're sorry and make it a damn good apology, Cordy'll take you back. She might be a spitfire, but she's just like you, in some ways—she's all heart. When two hearts as big and as feeling as you two get together, it's beautiful and painful. The pain feels tenfold, but the joy, the love, all the good stuff…that's worth all of the bad that comes with it."

Xander smiled faintly at Lorne, but shook his head sadly. "And tell her what, Lorne? She's right." He mused on her last words to him, harsh but truthful. "My whole life, I've kept shooting myself in the foot whenever I had the chance to be happy. All because I keep…I keep focusing on what I don't have, so I don't take care of and enjoy what I do have."

A dark look emerged in his eyes as his mind traveled back to his past. "My dad did that all the time," he shook his head in disgust. He downed another swig of his whiskey shot. "Like father, like son, I guess."

Lorne gave him an understanding glance. "Oh, pumpkin, believe me, I know all about parent issues. My mother, for instance, would be all too thrilled if a meteor fell from the sky and charred me to a crisp," the green-skinned demon mused wryly, which drew a small chuckle from Xander.

Lorne gave him a small smile before he continued. "The point is, you're nothing like your dad. I saw him in your aura when you were humming. He stopped giving a damn long ago. He was broken from a while back, I'm betting, and he decided to stay broken. He quit on himself and you. And your mom."

A troubled look crossed Xander's face as he remembered the scary misery of his childhood and how his father had ruined much of it. It would have been a complete disaster if he hadn't had Willow around in his life by then. And later Buffy and the rest of his friends.

"That's not what I've seen from you," Lorne continued. "Even when you're out of your depth, you still suck in a deep breath and jump into the deep end if the people you love are in trouble."

Xander shook his head again. "How am I supposed to do that now, Lorne? Look at me…" He motioned to the mass of gauze covering up his mangled left eye. "How am I supposed to help anyone? How can I be good enough for Cordelia like this when I'm…" He swallowed thickly, looking away in sadness before he let the last word quietly, miserably escape his lips. "...broken?"

Lorne gave his another sympathetic glance, not sure what to say for a moment. "I don't know, my little rain cloud. I wish I had a silver lining to give you. But I can say this," the Pylean demon said sagely, "...you have to find a way. Trust me, you don't want to let Cordelia slip through your fingers twice. If you let her go now, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life. So if I were you, I'd figure it out. And soon."

Even as his senses dulled under the power of the booze in him, Xander thought long and hard about Lorne's prophetic words. Part of him knew the green-skinned barkeep was right. Losing Cordelia was one of the biggest regrets of his life. Even after he fell in love with Anya, a part of him had always wondered what might have been had he and Cordelia managed to stay together. How far they might have gone. What they might have built together. What they might have meant to each other.

Would it have been Cordelia that he would have ended up proposing to instead of Anya? Would she have said yes? Would he have found it in himself to marry her on their wedding day instead of leaving her at the altar like he did Anya? Would they have gotten the life he had always wanted, a house, a little picket white fence, and kids and some little dog that would be crawling all over them in bed on lazy Sunday mornings? Could he have been the kind of husband to her and father to their children that would have been way better than his own boozing loser father was? Would they have lived happily ever after?

…And could they still?

Xander didn't have too long to ponder that, however. He had an unexpected guest sidling up to him at the bar.

Enter Anya, in a slinky pink top and tight blue jeans, looking quite bodacious, as most of the guys in the Bronze had noticed.

"Well, that's the last time I come here on College Night," she said in a huff, sitting down at an empty bar stool next to Xander and in front of Lorne. "Most of the testosterone cases here have been giving me the bedroom eyes all night. Not that a girl minds getting told she's attractive, mind you, but these Neanderthals really need to learn to keep their hands to themselves."

She sat down and gave Xander a soft look, despite their past and recent history. "Hey," she smiled wanly.

Morose, Xander somehow mustered back a faint smile and a responding, "Hey."

I was thinking if you were lonely

Maybe we could leave here and no one would know

At least not to the point that we would think so

"Hey, Pixie Stick, what'll your pleasure be?" Lorne greeted Anya warmly.

"A shot of your finest, cheapest, drunkiest liquor, my good sir," the former Vengeance Demon said with a smile and a flourish, winking at Lorne as he prepared her drink. "Could use some now that the action died down with the cops trying to arrest Faith."

At that, the two males grew more alarmed. "Wait, something happened to Faith?" a worried Xander blurted out, though he almost slurred his words. "What about the others?"

"Is everyone okay?" Lorne asked, also concerned as he handed Anya her drink.

Anya merely waved off their concern. "Oh, yeah, they're fine. I took cover by the bathroom, but Dawn and the girls cleaned house, and Spike and Faith kicked ass outside the club. Dawn's pretty impressive, though. Gotta say, we should've supercharged her Key batteries and let that little Energizer Bunny loose a while ago!" She swigged down her shot. "And I'm not just using that analogy because I think the idea of a battery-powered bunny is a sign of the End of Days."

Xander didn't like what he heard at all. "I should go check on them, see if they're okay," he said, trying to stumble up from his barstool.

Anya, however, gently pushed him back down. "Sit down, Xander," she rolled her eyes. "You're not exactly in any condition to go swinging. Besides, they're fine. I checked on them, everyone went home already."

Xander frowned, not liking to be reminded of how he wasn't able to help his friends.

Seeing his face, Anya managed to find a rare, affectionate smile. "They'll be fine. Promise."

Off her smile, something in Xander slightly unclenched, and for whatever reason, he found himself returning her smile with a tiny one of his own.

Lorne frowned, not exactly liking what he was seeing. But he knew that it was none of his business.

"Well, if the gang went on home, then I guess that's my cue to skedaddle," Lorne said, putting on his jacket. "Better head on back to Casa Summers and make sure the gang's okay. Don't stay out too late, kids."

Xander smiled at the friendly, disguised green demon warmly. " 'Night, Lorne."

"Later, Slim. Chiquita," he added, with a wink at Anya, who responded with a wink of her own as she raised her glass at him in a half-toast.

To Xander, he gave a final, quiet warning. "And Xander? Make good choices, hmm?"

He cocked his eyebrow in warning, his eyes subtly cocking towards a tipsy and rather luscious-looking Anya. The anagogic demon could see how much Xander was hurting over Cordelia. Could see how much he wanted to make things right between them again, to fix things. But he also knew of the history between Xander and his blunt, yet vivacious ex-fiancee, as well as how people often made some rash decisions when they were drunk.

Still drunk, Xander caught his meaning, yet he brushed it off. "I'm a big boy, Lorne," he replied, just as quietly, but much more stubbornly. "I can make my own choices."

"Yeah, well…just make sure they won't be ones you'll regret later," Lorne said with hushed caution in his tone. "Take care, Slim." And with that, he rounded the bar and headed for the door.

"Sweet guy," Anya said brightly of Lorne. "I can see why Angel keeps him on the payroll."

"To bankroll his fantabulous nightwear?" Xander quipped with a lopsided smile.

Anya laughed, maybe a little too loudly. They clinked their glasses together in a toast.

"Good one," Anya said between giggles.

"Aww, you're just saying that because you're drunk," Xander waved her off with a smirk.

"Oh, look who's talking!" Anya teased him, nudging him with her elbow. A pensive thought suddenly crossed her pretty features. "This is nice."

Xander frowned. "What is?"

Anya gestured between them. "You. Me. Us. Having a nice, civil conversation again. We haven't had one since…"

Xander knew exactly when 'since' was. "Since the wedding," he muttered, somewhat guiltily.

"Well, the Wedding That Wasn't," Anya muttered back. Then, abruptly, she shook her head. "No. You know what? I'm done with all that. I'm not going to hold that against you anymore, Xander. You were…" She sighed, a hint of pain in her eyes yet outweighed by pragmatic resignation and acceptance. "You were right. I was holding that against you way too long. And the longer I did, the more I just hurt myself. I…I need to get over it. So…" She sighed again, plastering a bright smile on her face before she raised her glass to Xander. "So, I'm over it. So, cheers, Mister Harris. To a fresh new start between us. As friends. And here's to you and…and Cordelia."

Anya said the Seer's name like she was swallowing a rancid lemon, bitter and awful to taste, yet she swallowed it. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the looming apocalypse, but somewhere between the drinks and the 20th guy that was hitting on her and trying to get her to do jello shots on a bar table—a nice little boost to her ego—Anya had decided that she was no longer going to keep dwelling on her broken heart and the past and what could have been with Xander. She had survived for hundreds of years before him, and she was determined to make it after him, she had decided. After all, she wasn't one of those whiny, mopey women she had served vengeance up for over lifetimes; she was in a young, hot little body, she was sexy, she was smart, good with money, a budding businesswoman, worldly, charming and she was a pretty good bowler…which had to count for something, she reasoned silently.

She would be okay. Better than okay, she would be fabulous, she vowed. Because she was Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins, damn it, and that meant something. Even if I did make that name up just to get the Watchers Council off my back…

She was so engrossed in her own musings of liberation that she almost didn't notice the sad, forlorn look in Xander's…eye, at the name of the other woman that had become her romantic rival.

"What?" she asked, confused.

Xander bitterly raised his almost-empty glass to his lips. "I don't think there is a 'Me and Cordelia' to toast to anymore," he sighed, downing the amber-colored liquid down his throat. "Cordy and I might have…broken up just now."

Anya looked stunned. Surprised. "Well, yeesh, that was quick!" she uttered in awe.

Off how Xander clenched his fist tightly and looked down at the bar in absolute misery, she quickly backpedaled. "No…no wait, that's the alcohol talking…and the 'tact' thing again," she sighed. She then gave Xander an honest, sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Xander. Really…I'm so sorry."

Xander looked back up from the bar, giving her a grateful glance. "Thanks, Ahn," he said quietly with a tiny smile. But the misery, the hurt and heartache in his lone dark brown eye was all too clear to see.

Sighing, Anya bitterly chuckled. "Boy, look at us, huh? I guess love just doesn't look good on us," she shook her head in old bitterness.

Xander smirked, laughing mirthlessly as he found himself agreeing with the beautiful ex-demon. "Yeah. What a pair," he agreed. "The guy and gal that love forgot."

"Maybe it's something in how I pick them," Anya mused in somewhat sad self-deprecation. "The same string of dead-end losers that I keep running into. Olaf, Dracula, Mozart, Spike, though that was just a one-time thing, Adam Harper, who was this one spice merchant I dated in the 1700s that was rich and handsome, but usually smelled like garlic and cheated on me with, of course, some floozy blonde barmaid. I, uh, turned him into a Drokken Beast for that, just FYI…" She laughed drunkenly at the memory. "You should've seen how the villagers were pelting him with his own spices before they tried to burn him alive! He was all 'No, wait, I'm not a monster! Please don't kill me and ruin my trade ship!'"

Off Xander's now-horrified stare, Anya swallowed, drinking her whiskey again. "Um…I guess you had to be there."

Clearing his throat, a still-buzzed Xander tried to block out the rather horrifying tale Anya had just said, focusing instead on his own troubles. "Maybe…but who am I to judge, right?"

He shook his head, slouching as he leaned on his forearm on the bar like a pillow. "If love was Major League Baseball, I'd be the Bad News Bears. Most of the women I've dated ended up trying to kill me. I totally missed out on Willow when I didn't even realize I had a shot with her. I was madly in love with Buffy, and she was so hung up on Angel or some other schmuck that she didn't bother to give me a second look. And the only good relationships I ever had I found a way to mess up so badly they were beyond salvaging. Cordelia…" He gave Anya a sad look. "...you."

Anya found herself giving him a sad, almost longing look, thoughts of the past suddenly flickering in her mind. The life they could have had…

"And the rub of it? It was me," he realized in misery, bitterly putting the shot glass down on the bar. "I did this. I keep doing this. I keep shooting myself in the foot. And I don't know why. Why can't I just get over it, huh? Why can't I ever feel like I'm enough? I keep letting my issues and my demons and my damn hang-ups screw me out of the things that can make me happy. Just like…" He swallowed, self-loathing creeping up all over him. "Just like dad. Funny…I've spent my whole life trying to get away from him, trying to not be like him."

He sighed, bowing his head in defeat. "And in the end? Maybe I'm just like him after all." His one eye began to glass over, emotion and pain brewing in it as he bared his soul. "A…a loser…"

At that, Anya reached out to his hand, putting her small one over his. "No! No, Xander, please, don't say that," she pleaded softly with him. "I met your father. I've turned hundreds, thousands of guys like him into disgusting things during the Vengeance Demon gig. Pig-headed, macho, disgusting, racist, hiding behind the bottle to cover up their insecurities…I've seen guys like Tony Harris my whole existence."

She gave him a reassuring smile. "Believe me, you are nothing like him. Nothing. You are not a loser. On your worst day, you're better than your father will ever be on his best day."

He gave her a watery smile, her sweet words a balm to his soul.

"Thanks, Ahn," he murmured, full of gratitude. He shook his head, full of regret. "God, you deserved so much better than what I did to you. Leaving you at the altar on our wedding day…"

"Shh," Anya said softly, putting her hand to his lips, silencing him. "Don't. That was…that was the past. We can't go back. If there's one thing I've learned after a millennium and change…we can't change yesterday. It doesn't exist anymore. And there's not much point in worrying about tomorrow, if you really think about it. That doesn't exist yet, either."

Xander wasn't sure he could understand even if he wasn't drunk out of his mind. "And…and whaddo-we…" He shook his head, trying to focus through the wavering haze of his vision. "What do we…focus on, then?"

Anya wasn't sure what it was… the one whiskey shot too many that she had, or how sad and lonely and cute he looked, or the familiar pull of nostalgia, or just the need to make a mistake…but as she bit her lip while locking her eyes with his marred, but beautiful lone dark-eyed gaze, she gave up trying to figure out why it mattered.

"The moment," she uttered softly. Huskily.

In his heart, deep down, he could feel a voice shouting at him that this was wrong. The girl who his heart was truly crying out for had left, Xander knowing that if he had any sense, he should be running out after her, shouting Cordelia's name all over this one-Starbucks town until he could fall on his knees and beg her to take him back…

…but Cordelia wasn't here.

She was gone. Because of him.

He was alone. Miserable. Lonely. Hurting. Heartbroken.

And Anya was here. Saying all the right things. Smelling all the right ways. Looking lovely as ever…

Xander wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly her lips were on his, and he couldn't fight it.

Wasn't sure he wanted to…

Wasn't sure he…

And everyone here, knows everyone here is thinking about

Somebody else

Well, it's best if we all keep this under our heads

"Wait," Xander murmured drunkenly, pulling back ever so slightly, his senses dulled, his vision wobbling, his heart and head all kinds of confused. Yet somehow, his heart, which was ever sober, bubbled out one last plea. "We can't…we…Cordy, we…we-we-we…we can't, Cordelia…I…"

Were Anya in her own right mind, the mention of Cordelia's name would have sent her hand flying across Xander's face and her feet flying halfway across the Bronze to a nearby cab. Except…

…except she was hurting, too.

Hurting. And lonely. And tired. And drunk.

And so, she decided sadly, she didn't care for tonight if the man she had long loved said another woman's name. Or even had another woman in his thoughts.

Maybe…maybe if I try hard enough…maybe he'll think of me instead, a sad part of Anya thought. Maybe…maybe he'll even love me again…just for a little while…

"Shhh…you're hurt, Xander," she murmured sadly through half-closed eyes and a powerful buzz of alcohol as barely a sliver of light separated their lips. "Just for tonight…let's take care of each other…"

Seeing with his broken heart instead of his eyes, Xander didn't see the cute, soft features of a cute blonde woman that he once made his whole world…instead, he saw brunette hair, cut in a becoming shoulder-length bob, and pixyish features that wrinkled her nose at him with a sexy smile that had always melted him. That he longed for. Yearned for…

"Sure, anything…" he breathed against her lips, his body here, but his mind one place, his heart in another. "...anything you want, Cordelia…"

Everything felt like a distant echo to Xander, as if his consciousness had left his body and he was just sort of watching himself from a distance. Like he was watching a movie.

Watching himself give up tiredly, just wanting to be held, be comforted…watching himself fall into Anya's lips, her embrace…

…watching himself slip away…

…just being carried away…

But Xander wasn't the only one watching.

From the entrance door, halfway frozen as she was coming in, was another woman.

Who couldn't stop watching the drunken scene of rapture, with her mouth dropped in a mortified 'O', utter shock on her face, her heart cracking in her chest and stunned tears forming in her glassy eyes…

…Cordelia.

And for one terrifying moment, the heartbroken Seer almost forgot how to breathe. Oh, my God…

And I couldn't tell, if anyone here was feeling the way I do

But I'm lonely now, and I don't know how

To get it back to good


In a pensive daze, Wesley wandered around outside the club long after Darla had disappeared.

It didn't seem fair to him. He wanted to be out there with her. Helping her. Protecting her.

Fixing this mistake that he created that ruined Connor's life by helping her son, properly this time.

Yet Darla, the only thing that had offered him any kind of hope of late, was gone, and he was here. Alone.

Left to figure out how to help 'friends' who didn't want him around anymore, and how to connect with a volatile young woman, a Slayer, who once tortured him mercilessly and tried to kill him.

As the night's chilly air whipped around him, Wesley wondered for a long moment why it seemed to be his destiny to walk this lonely road riddled by his mistakes and regrets that he had to try and fix when part of him really just wanted to get away from all of it and start over again, start fresh…

FWUMP!

"Oh!" he uttered, surprised, as his hands shot out and alertly caught the person bumping into him.

Annoyed, he began to snap, "Why don't you bloody well watch where you're—!"

His words stopped as he realized who had bumped into him.

Cordelia.

She was shaking. Upset. Tears were streaming down her face.

The look on her face was absolutely heartbreaking.

"...Cordelia?" he uttered in surprise. He hadn't expected to see her here, she was supposed to be visiting Xander in the hospital, taking him home.

Her eyes wide and glassy, her breathing choppy, Cordelia tried to speak, but the golf-sized lump in her throat refused to let her talk. Her heart was in bewildered pain, feeling as though it was burning up and shattering into a million pieces in her chest.

Burned by the all-too-familiar fire of betrayal. Of heartache. Of pain.

Letting go for a moment of his own brooding, of pain that long had a hold on his own heart, Wesley's eyes softened, as did the rest of his expression.

"Cordelia, what is it?" he asked softly, concern and familial instincts kicking in. "Cordy, are you alright?"

Seeing Wesley's brooding face soften in worry for her, coupled with the knifing pain of watching Xander in the arms of his ex-fiancee, proved too much for the normally strong Seer. Her face crumbling, a sob escaped Cordelia's throat…

…and then she was in his arms, throwing her arms around his neck as she cried and sobbed hard in absolute misery.

Frozen for a moment, Wesley didn't know what to say, what to do. "It's alright, Cordelia!" he blurted out, confused. "It…"

Yet as the sobs and heartwrenching tears of the woman who had become like an infuriating, yet endearing little sister to him through these years continued to flow, something slowly became undone in the hardened heart of Wesley Windham-Pryce. Letting loose the knot of old bitterness, old betrayal and hurt and anger…

…and gave way to reveal a piece of the heart of the man he used to be.

Well everyone here, knows everyone here is thinking 'bout somebody else

And it's best if we all keep this under our heads, hell our heads, yeah

See I couldn't tell, if anyone here was feeling the way I do

Slowly, he found his arms encircling the shaking brunette Seer, holding her in comfort.

"It'll be fine," he softly whispered into her hair. Rubbing small circles around her back. "Shhh. Everything will be fine…"

And there Wesley stood in the cool California night. Offering a heartbroken Cordelia what little comfort he could. He closed his eyes, a part of him cautiously opening himself up to the moment.

The familiarity of family, a family that he thought he had lost forever.

A family that, the hardened ex-Watcher silently admitted to only himself…he longed to be a part of again…

But it's over now,

And I don't know how,

Guess it's over now

There's no getting back to good

No-oh-ohh

No-oh-ohh

No-oh-ohh


Not that far, a stewing and volatile Faith had been stalking by the cemetery nearby.

Her thoughts were ablaze with so many swirling thoughts.

The trauma of being tortured.

Those sudden flashes of nightmarish visions she had inside the club.

Those damned cops.

Spike

Pushing him away.

Regretting pushing him away.

The pain in his eyes as she held him at a distance, too afraid to let him in, yet terrified inside of losing…whatever it was that they seemed to have lately.

And Buffy.

Always Buffy, she groused silently, recalling the punches and blows she had traded with her sister Slayer not but a few minutes ago.

Faith was honestly starting to wonder if it was worth it sticking around here. All this drama, all this heartache, all this stupid pain…It would be so easy to fire up her Harley, pack her bag and just fly outta here. Hit the open road and go wherever the wind and trouble took her, like the old days. It would have been so easy…

Needing to clear her tempestuous thoughts, Faith opted to take the long way home. She hadn't wanted to run into Buffy for fear of Round 2 of their last mini-smackdown. If it came to blows again, Faith wasn't so sure she was in the state of mind where she could stop herself from finally seeing which one of them could be the last Slayer standing.

Shakily, she pulled out a cigarette, lighting the death stick in her hands and taking a puff here and there, trying to calm her nerves. Buffy had her way of calming her mind, and Faith had hers, after all.

Slowly, Faith let the menthol and nicotine work its magic and found herself for a moment calming down, losing herself in the silence of the empty street, slowly coming at ease…

"HELP! Somebody help me PLEASE!"

A young woman's screams shattered the silence.

Wincing, Faith cursed herself. "God, I hate this freakin' town," she muttered angrily as she bolted through the cemetery in the direction of the screams.

The brunette Slayer didn't go far before she saw the cause of the commotion.

A young blonde beauty of a woman was running frantically through the graveyard, huffing and puffing as she sprinted for dear life.

Behind her, three hungry vampires, ready to make a meal out of her.

Rolling her eyes, an annoyed Faith grabbed the cheap limestone of a nearby headstone. "What kind of airhead idiot walks around this town at night near a cemetery? Victim from Central Casting-much?" she muttered angrily.

As if she was tossing a frisbee, Faith hurled the tombstone with all her might at the vampires, catching one of the demons in the chest, violently knocking it down. The other two froze, stunned at the sudden attack.

From the shadows, Faith stepped out, glowering, a cold smirk on her face. "That late night snack is gonna cost you big time, boys," she drawled, her voice lowered, almost purring like a tiger. "Because boy, am I in the mood for some painful violence."

With that, she stepped forward quickly and smashed her fist into the face of the one she had just knocked down as he was trying to get up, violently knocking him back down.

"Like that," the sultry Slayer smirked, rocking on the balls of her feet and hands balling into deadly fists.

One of the vampires leered at her. "Slayerrr," Vampire No.1 hissed.

"Sure is-ssss," Faith mockingly hissed back.

"It's Buffy Summers!," Vampire No.2 yelped in surprise.

Her eyes narrowing in annoyance, Faith sneered. "Oh…So you're trying to piss me off," she raised an eyebrow as she drew out her stake.

Vampire No. 3, having gotten up, shook his head, clearing out the cobwebs. "No way. Buffy Summers is a blonde. Must be the 'other' Slayer," he growled, leering up and down Faith's lean, taut body. "Leather pants, nice right cross, great ass, doe eyes, holier-than-thou glower…you must be Faith."

"Oh, goody, I'm famous," Faith deadpanned, nonplussed at the trio of vamps. "When I send you to hell, you can tell all your buddies who sent you."

Vampire No.3 chuckled at her, as did the other two. "You made a big mistake coming out here alone, Sexy. Word's out on the street. There's a bounty on your head. Drusilla says The First wants you dead."

Not expecting that, Faith's smirk slightly faltered. Bounty? You mean those cops were just the beginning? Not willing to let them see her sweat, Faith no-sold it.

"So Morticia and Casper want me off the board, huh? Too bad," she said coldly, squaring up as the three tried to spread out, surrounding her like a pack of dogs. "If Drusilla thinks just three measly vamps are gonna be enough to lulla-bye me, she really is crazy."

Without warning, Faith felt a body slam into her, tackling her and flinging her to the ground.

Faith quickly rolled on her side and saw her new assailant pinning her to the ground…the 'helpless' girl she was trying to save. Now in full vampface.

"Make that four, Slayer slut," Vampire No. 4 hissed at her, mounting Faith and pressing her shoulders to the ground.

Struggling with the frenzied vampire, Faith gritted out, "You really can't trust anyone in this town. They oughta make you…shmucks…wear…signs."

The other three gathered around her, leering and laughing at Faith as her attacker tried to pin down her wrists, which would leave the dark-haired Slayer wide open for a fatal bite to the jugular.

"Cool," Vampire No.2 snickered. "Always love some girl-on-girl action."

"Don't struggle, Slayer," hissed Vampire No.3, the leader, from how he carried himself. "Just let it happen, baby."

As she twisted and turned and looked for her opening, Faith scowled, grounding out, "Sorry, succu-bitches…but I'm kinda involved with someone."

Ignoring how Spike's handsome face flashed in her mind's eye, Faith found her opening, reaching up and grabbing the female vampire by the throat, then rolling and using her feet to press upwards and throw her into a nearby headstone.

Rolling to her feet, Faith whipped out a secondary stake from her belt. "Well, not involved, exactly," Faith clarified, twirling the deadly wood shard in her hands expertly. "It's one of those things where it's complicated, and…wait, why the hell am I talking to you idiots about my personal life?"

Faith jutted her knee up over her head in amazing flexibility and smashed Vampire No.2 in the head with a taekwondo-style Scorpion kick, one of her signature moves. The vampire staggered backwards. Vampire No.1 tried his luck, only to be caught with a roundhouse kick to the ribs, then the chest, before Faith caught him with a spinning backfist, sending him reeling over another tombstone.

Vampire No.3 was left standing, the two squaring off. Number 3 was surprisingly agile, throwing up a few martial arts-style kicks of his own, keeping Faith at bay.

She was almost impressed. "A vamp with some moves," Faith cocked an eyebrow. "That's a little more rare."

"Before I was reborn, I taught kenpo karate at a dojo," Number 3 sneered. "I'm more than you can handle, Slayer."

"If I had a nickel for every time a guy promised me that," Faith smirked, nonplussed.

Number 3 growled at her, coming at her with another kick, but Faith craftily went low, sweeping his leg out from under him, sending him tumbling. The female vampire, Number 4, lunged at Faith, her jagged nails barely missing Faith's jugular. Moving with lightning-quick reflexes, Faith twisted to avoid the deadly nails, then grabbed the she-vamp's arm and used her momentum to throw her right on her back again to the ground.

Feigning boredom, Faith shook her head in pity, twirling her stake as she readied to finish this. "D-minus effort, at best. C'mon, guys, you can't be missin' if you're gonna come at the Queen, you know what I'm say—?"

Without warning, her head began to pound and her mind began to flash with horrifying images…

The stake plunging into Deputy Mayor Finch's chest…

The bloody knife sliding in and out like butter out of a dying Professor Worth's back…

Buffy's hurt, betrayed face as she watched Faith plunge her tongue into her now-'evil' boyfriend Angel's mouth…

Wesley, bruised, bloodied, at her mercy as she held a blowtorch to his face, the heat threatening to sear his skin like a sausage, Faith smiling a twisted grin at the thought as she brought the fire closer to his eyes…

Faith groaned in pain, clutching her head, her senses on fire, her breathing suddenly shallow, hyperventilating. Her heart, it was beating so fast it felt like it was going to explode out of her chest.

"No…no, no, stop…stop…" she muttered desperately, staggering backwards as the still-down vampires stared at her. "Stop…please…stop…"

Caleb, smashing her face in again and again with hard fist after hard fist as she lay in that damn vineyard…

The Beast, mirthlessly smiling as his hooved feet cracked another of her ribs with a kick, Faith coughing up blood as she fought to keep from passing out…

alone…her friends abandoning her, leaving her to die…

her body, hooked up with electric nodes in her head, her chest, her back, convulsing with agony as Warren gleefully hit her with another painful electrified shock, one of many she had taken in the last six hours…

Drusilla, laughing as she pried open her mind, cracked her like a nut, exposing all her secrets and fears and using them against her…

Faith felt the urge to vomit as another seizure-like wave of visions hit her again, throwing her world off balance, making her trip against a nearby headstone and come tumbling to the ground.

Her skull felt like it was on fire, the agony, both physical and mental, seeming like it would never end.

All of her guilt, all of her sins, all of her suffering, her failure, hitting her all at once like a tidal wave, pulling her under. Drowning her. Suffocating her.

She began hyperventilating, her breaths becoming quick and shallow as she writhed in agony on the ground, tormented by a nightmare world all around her that only she could see.

Her own personal private hell.

I can't…I can't breathe…I can't breathe…help…Spike…Angel…B…Wes…anyone…help me…!

"No…get out…get out of my head…" she gasped, twisting and turning on her back, panting frantically, clutching her head, wanting nothing more than for the pain to stop. Wondering if she was losing her mind.

above her… Spike…laughing at her as she suffered…leaning down, plunging the knife into her stomach, her hurt, betrayed eyes staring at him in heartbreak and agony…to which he merely laughed…

and laughed…

and LAUGHED…

"No…please..." Tears stung the back of Faith's reddening eyes as she closed her eyelids and cried out. "Get out of my…GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"


From the shadows, not too far from the fight scene, holding the glowing mind-altering stone…

…Drusilla watched.

And she smiled.


With Faith reduced to a quivering, panicking, teary-eyed mess on the floor, lost to her own private world of pain, the vampires smiled.

"Geez, who'da thunk taking down a Slayer would be this easy?" Number 2 said, grabbing one of Faith's wrists and pinning it to the ground.

"Guess we lucked out that this one's a basketcase," Number 1 laughed, pinning down the other wrist, leaving a pained and unaware Faith exposed and helpless.

"Who cares?" Vampire Number 4, the female, scoffed, grabbing Faith's ankles, effectively restraining all of her limbs. "Let's just finish it and get it done."

Sneering above Faith, whose mind seemed to be drowning to unseen mental torment, her consciousness drifting through distorted and disorienting feelings and thoughts, Number 3 picked up the stake she had dropped.

"There's something pretty ironic. A Slayer getting staked by her own weapon," Number 3 chuckled coldly, rearing his hand back, ready to plunge the deadly stake right through Faith's heart. "Okay, baby…just tell me when it hurts."

FZZZ-SHUCK!

There was a sharpened piece of wood that pierced a sternum.

Only it was a stake that flew out of nowhere, hitting Number 3 dead-center in the chest…

"What the fu..?"

…right before he crumbled into ashes.

Stunned, the vampires looked up to the source of that attack…

…Wesley.

Cocking back his wrist-mounted multi-weapon that launched the stake, ready for more battle.

Alongside him, Cordelia. Armed with a collapsible sword that Wesley had given her in one hand, and a stake she had carved in her waistband.

"I'd make some kind of sex battle pun, but it'd be wasted considering you guys are going to die the same way you did the first time around…not being able to score," Cordelia quipped, her lips bared in a fierce sneer.

Releasing Faith, the three vampires charged the two lone heroes, only to find they were biting off more than they could chew.

Scowling and grunting, Cordelia hit one vampire with a spinning roundhouse kick, then kneed another one in the groin, hauling back and punching him hard. She was enraged. Furious. She couldn't believe she let this happen again. She couldn't believe that Xander would do this to her again. AGAIN! God, I must be some kind of idiot! This is what I get for falling for a Harris. I get screwed, and not even in a good way!

And she was more than happy to take out her hurt, her heartache, her absolute fury on these undead tools.

One of them tried to grab her from behind, but Wesley was there, ramming the butt of his stake against his head. He then turned his attention to the female, the wildest one of the group, slashing and clawing at him. Wesley was still able to keep her at bay, using a few efficient and well-placed kicks and blows to keep her off balance.

Finally, he dove at her legs and knocked her to the ground. He didn't waste time with words or quips. It wasn't his style anymore. It was surgical precision, merciless efficiency. Find the problem, isolate it and terminate it. He quickly rolled over, pinning her down, and gripped his stake.

Unaware, one of the vampires that had grown tired of fighting Cordelia had decided to try his luck with him, sneaking up right behind him.

Cordelia spotted him too late. "Wesley, watch out!"

Wesley barely had time to turn to his assailant…

POW!

And it turned out that he didn't have to.

A long, shapely leg flew out of nowhere to kick the vampire in the face, knocking him tumbling over a headstone.

A leg that belonged to Faith.

Her hair was slightly disheveled, her skull pounding, legs feeling like rubber…but she was on her feet, scowling, furious and ready for the final round.


Drusilla scowled as she watched from afar, the odds starting to turn against her.

It would be best to walk away for now, she decided.

No matter, she smiled devilishly as she eyed Faith, while the mad vampire slunk back into the darkness. I'm in your head, dearie. Mummy lives there now. And mummy will make sure she punishes all bad little girl who take things that don't belong to them…


Faith's resurgence turned the tide, overwhelming the vampire attackers.

Number 1, rebounding from getting kicked over a tombstone by Faith, scowled as he decided to stop playing fair. "Screw this," he snarled, eying Faith as she went over to help clobber Number 4, who was giving Cordelia a hard time.

"Drusilla told us to take you off the board. But she didn't say how," he growled under his breath, reaching into his jacket pocket. He drew out his secret equalizer: a small, cheap revolver. Loaded and cocked.

He took aim at Faith's back, the dark-haired Slayer completely unaware of his deadly intentions.

"Checkmate, Slayer," Number 1 hissed, pulling the hammer back as he began to squeeze the trigger…

Wesley somehow managed to catch sight of the vampire's intentions, watching him aim at Faith's unprotected back.

"Faith, watch out!" he cried out.

Without thinking, he dove right into the path of the bullet…

BANG!

…which caught him full in the chest.

Down went Pryce.

Faith whipped around, watching too late as Wesley's body hit the ground.

"NO! WESLEYYY!" Cordelia screamed, watching her longtime friend, her surrogate brother go down.

Eyes wide, shocked, Faith's gaze ticked from the fallen Wesley to Number 1 holding the smoking gun. Instantly, she put together what had happened…

Oh, no…No…NO!

…and then something inside of her snapped.

Letting out a guttural scream, Faith launched herself at Number 1, her foot connecting hard with his face.

He clumsily tried to aim the gun at Faith again, only for Faith to grab his arm, bend it the other way and twist until she heard the satisfying 'POP!' sound of his arm snapping in two. She ignored the vampire's scream, punching him brutally in the face again and again until he fell to his knees. Not wasting any more time, Faith grabbed her stake and promptly plunged it into his chest.

PAFT!

He disintegrated into dust just a fraction of a second later.

As Cordelia ran to Wesley, Faith gave her cover, setting her sights on the last two vampires. Unleashing like a lioness who caught a hyena way too close to her cubs, Faith pummeled and bashed the two with reckless abandon. Her kicks were hard, precise for maximum pain. Her punches were brutal, knocking teeth loose, chipping their fangs,

She promptly threw the female against the wall of a mausoleum, then moved in a blur, jutting out her stake and catching her right in the chest. The female vampire let out a loud groan, then disintegrated into a cloud of dust a moment later.

Number 2 had seen the odds now stack against him, turning tail and running. That only made Faith madder. She picked up her other stake, twirled it for a moment, and then hurled it in a deadly spinning arc through the air.

It caught Number 2 right in the back, piercing through to his heart.

PWOOSH!

Dusted.

With all of the vampires now ashes, Faith ran towards where Wesley lay and Cordelia tended to him.

"...Wes?" she uttered quietly.

He wasn't stirring.

And that terrified her. No…no, no, no, don't this to me, Wesley, not now…not when I need…

"WES!" she frantically shouted, reaching down and shaking him.

Suddenly, Wesley came to, sitting up alertly.

"Wesley?" Cordelia breathed, stunned.

"Woah, Wes, careful!" Faith urged him, checking his sternum. "You're…!"

She looked to his chest…only to find no blood. No wound.

The fabric was torn from where the bullet struck, yet Wesley was unharmed.

Cordelia breathed, frowning, "I-I-I don't understand, how…?"

Wesley, quirking his lips wryly, unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the answer.

A dark bulletproof vest lay underneath his clothing.

A vest that had saved his life.

And mine, Faith realized.

Wesley sighed. "Been shot once. Wasn't fun. So I made sure that wouldn't happen again," he explained. "Makes the three thousand dollars I spent on this thing worth it, though."

Cordelia gave him a watery smile. "Good thing you're not a cheapskate," she sniffled.

Faith looked at him in awe.

Aww…and gratitude.

"Wes…you took a bullet for me," Faith breathed, barely able to comprehend it.

Even after how everything ended between them, after what she had done to him once…he was willing to risk his life for her. I can't believe it…

Wesley shook his head, giving Faith an indecipherable look. His eyes were weary, yet wiser somehow. Only now did Faith get a real look at him, seeing a very different man in front of her than the stuck-up tool that he was when he tried to teach her by the book years ago.

"Yeah, well…you didn't have the body armor. I did," he brushed it off, giving Faith the tiniest of smiles.

A guarded gesture, not opening the door completely…but just enough to let the light in.

Silently grateful for the gesture, and for so much more, Faith gave him a mirrored smile back.

And for a moment, Faith wondered if perhaps this was the start of something that she hadn't planned for…

…but something that she might need…


Now


The car stayed parked on the curb of the Summers home, silence still lingering in the car.

"Well," Wesley said quietly, looking at the two women. "Here we are."

Faith absently looked around in the car, suddenly realizing something was missing. Rather, someone.

"Wait…where's Darla?" Faith asked, turning to Wesley.

At her question, Wesley looked away, a sad look clouding his eyes. "Darla has…taken off," he said softly. "We had seen him briefly in the Bronze, probably to see Dawn. But he took off before we could confront him. Naturally, being his mother, Darla was worried about him. So she's gone to find Connor, wherever he is. She'll return when she finds him, she told me. Not before."

A part of Cordelia felt guilty as she heard her friend's words.

Connor…God, she had hurt him so much when she was being controlled by Jasmine and that parasite. At least part of the confusion and pain he was going through was because of her, the Seer realized in endless guilt. She could only hope that she could make things right with the boy one day…

Cordelia somberly nodded. She then looked at Wesley. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Wesley only gave her a faint ghost of a smile. "Fine. And you?"

He had been concerned when Cordelia told him that she would not be staying at Xander's for the night. However, given what she had told him had happened, he understood. It wasn't like he didn't know the importance of giving one's self time to heal a broken heart.

Cordelia gave him her own faint smile. "I'll live. It's not like there's any metal bars that I'll be accidentally impaling myself on tonight."

He frowned, confused for a moment.

Off his look, Faith quietly answered, "Senior year. Long story, bad drama, don't ask."

Deciding it was for the best, Wesley nodded, then turned back to Cordelia. "Get some rest, Cordy," he said, sincerely.

She tiredly smiled again, nodding. "I will. 'Night, guys." And with that, she exited the car to walk into the crowded house and find some place where she could sleep.

Leaving Faith and Wesley alone in the car.

Alone for the first time since weeks ago, when they had teamed up to stop The Beast, and then Angelus, as they rampaged across L.A.

Faith hated the long silence that stretched between them, fidgeting a little in the front seat. She almost wished for another vampire attack to break the strange pause.

"So, um…" Faith started awkwardly. "So…thanks for…back there in the cemetery."

After a beat, Wesley nodded. "You're welcome," he said simply.

Faith turned to him, scrunching her brow in confusion. "How…how were you guys there when…?"

"I took Cordelia for a walk," Wesley explained. "She was…not feeling well. We heard the commotion while we were passing, and decided to investigate. We were lucky, I suppose."

Faith snorted. "Yeah…lucky…" She really was, though, she decided. Given what happened to her mid-fight, Faith knew damn well that she would be dead right now if it weren't for Wesley and Cordelia passing by at that moment.

She wasn't used to needing help before. She wasn't sure how she felt about that…

Then she turned to Wesley again. She wanted to ask the real question on her mind.

"Wesley…you…you got shot for me," she began, her brow crinkled in confusion, her eyes searching for an answer. "You didn't owe me anything, I…I tortured you once. I was a terrible Slayer for you to manage, I've made your life a living hell back then, so why did you…?"

"Because it was the right thing to do," Wesley said simply. He turned to Faith. His eyes softened in a way that Faith never thought she would look at him. Like…like he can trust me, Faith quietly realized.

"Faith…I know what I said last time, about how I didn't trust you after what happened when you first came to Los Angeles," Wesley cautiously began. "And…while there might be a part of me that still…remembers what happened…"

Faith began to lower her eyes in shame, only for Wesley to gently reach over and raise her chin so her gaze met his. The way a father would address his child if they were feeling sad. Wide-eyed, Faith fought to keep from flinching, unused to such a tender gesture, yet a part of her, the broken and scared little girl from South Boston that she used to be, found herself almost welcoming the touch.

Unbidden, Wesley remembered the wise words that Darla told him. About needing to help Faith as much as Faith needed help. He didn't completely understand it, but he decided to go with his instincts.

"I also know what it's like to make mistakes…and to want to make up for them no matter how costly," Wesley said quietly. He could feel the sting of Justine's knife still sliding across his throat, remembering watching helplessly as she wrenched baby Connor from his arms and took off into the night. "I know that you're not the same sick girl you were back then. I know you've changed. I know you've suffered. And I know that your heart is in the right place. Helping us when the sun was blocked out, fighting the Beast, capturing Angelus, everything you've done since then, what you endured being trapped in that vineyard as long as you were…it's admirable. Exceptional, really."

For a moment, hearing those words from the older man, Faith felt a strange sense of…pride. Relief. Acceptance. Things that were completely foreign to her in the harsh life that she'd led.

"I know you probably feel lonely right now," Wesley said, withdrawing his finger. Giving her a plain and honest glace. "And that there's probably not a lot of people that you can trust. Not a lot of people who believe in you. But for what it's worth…you've made a believer out of me."

The right corner of Faith's mouth twitched ever so slightly, wanting to smile, but fighting the impulse. Her eyes suddenly felt a little warm, too, and she fought to keep that down, as well. She wasn't much good at emotion. Didn't have room for it. Part of her envied Buffy for that. Buffy could always wear her heart on her sleeve. Faith didn't have that luxury; she learned long ago that wearing her own heart on her sleeve was a good way for it to get stabbed by people with less honorable intentions.

"Th…thanks, Wes," she stammered awkwardly, not really sure of what to say here. "And…not just for what you just said."

Okay, maybe I do a little, she relented silently.

"You're welcome," Wesley nodded.

He paused a beat. He wasn't all that sure what to say, either.

But he remembered what Darla and Giles had said. About how he might need what Faith could give him more than he realized. And while he still wasn't so sure that was true, something inside him…instinct, perhaps…told him that he should probably heed their advice.

"We're all going through this together," he continued softly. "We all have our crosses to bear. So if…so if you ever need to talk…I know I'm not the sounding board that Angel might be for you, but…"

"I'll…keep that in mind," Faith jumped in, just as quietly. Now she did give him a smile. A faint one, but still a smile. "Thanks."

They said nothing for a while, each one contemplating the other as they found themselves unwittingly bonding. Slayer to former Watcher. Failed mentor to disappointing protegee. Each one tentatively feeling the other out. Testing the waters. Making sure they were safe for…reasons they didn't fully understand.

And yet they did. Which scared them both.

Deciding she'd been on enough of an emotional rollercoaster for one night, Faith grabbed the handle of the car door. "I think I'm gonna hit the hay. Wake me up when the apocalypse comes," she quipped wryly.

Wesley smiled dryly at her. "I will. Good night, Faith."

She nodded back, warmly. "'Night."

Then she exited the car and walked back into the house, leaving Wesley alone with his thoughts.

Wesley, a Slayer needs her Watcher, he heard Giles's words echo in his head. The idea still seemed like madness to him…and yet, part of him was wondering if there was a tiny, broken part of him that failed at his calling, a part of him that needed a Slayer, as well.

If a bridge once burned could be rebuilt, again…


Sunnydale, California - The Summers Home, 1630 Revello Drive

Some time after…


The door closed behind Oz as he and Willow entered the Summers home.

Neither one of them had spoken much on the way back.

There were so many questions from this night that needed answers…answers which neither one of them were sure they had.

"Well, on a scale of 1 to 10, that was…well, one of the weirdest not-a-dates I've ever been on," Willow said with a wry smirk. Even as troubled as her thoughts were, something about having Oz here made her…at ease, somehow.

"I was thinking it was an 8, myself," Oz replied with a mirrored smirk. "Minus points for the Bringers and lack of kissing, plus for you remembering how I like my sodas."

Willow rolled her eyes playfully. "After the number of times you ordered it? Please, I'd remember that in my sleep."

Oz's smile faded for a moment, his eyes growing concerned. "Willow…I thought you said you didn't have your powers anymore. Not…well, not yet, anyway. So what was…?"

Willow shook her head, quietly frustrated as she pondered what had happened. That burst of magick that came out of nowhere. "I…I don't know, Oz," she sighed. "I-I-I couldn't even float a pencil without giving myself a near-aneurysm for days, and then, all of a sudden, I'm sending shockwaves down a small block and flipping over knife-wielding minions? I don't know. I just saw you in trouble, and I…" She gave him a meaningful look. "I just couldn't sit there and let them hurt you."

Oz's eyes softened at her words. "Well…maybe…maybe you should talk to Giles in the morning. Tell him what happened. If anyone has answers, it'll be him, right?"

Willow frowned, pondering his words. She then nodded. He had a point. Giles always seemed to know. "Yeah. Yeah, maybe you're right. I'll talk to him in the morning. See if maybe he can find something in the books."

Another beat of silence followed, the two former lovers staring at each other, a little awkwardly…and a little not…both of which scared them a little.

"You sure you're okay?" Oz asked, simply, succinctly, but softly.

Truthfully, Willow wasn't sure. But she didn't want to worry Oz. He had more than enough to worry about. "I'll be fine," she said, her eyes a little unsure, but her voice steady enough. She then gave Oz a worried glance. "A-a-and you? I mean, you almost got gutted like a fish by those Bringers. Are you alright?"

Oz gave her a reassuring smile. "Totally. What's a Date Night in Sunnydale without a little attempted murder?"

Willow chuckled at his joke, remembering how much she missed his offbeat humor. Same old Oz…God, I missed that…

Their eyes met and that familiar magic began to envelope them again…

Until the sound of an annoyed Kennedy clearing her throat as she came down the stairs broke the moment. The Potential's eyes narrowed jealously at the pair, her growing insecurity beginning to spread all over her until all she wanted to do was pound Oz's head into the pavement outside.

Willow gave Kennedy a distant smile, the two having grown even further apart lately. Willow had seen Kennedy's attempt to talk to her, pull her back in, but the harder Kennedy pulled, the more the Witch began to push away. She had begun to see new sides of her girlfriend of late, and the more she saw, the less she liked.

Willow gave Oz a final glance. "Gotta go. If you need anything…"

"...I know who to call," Oz said simply, giving her a tender smile. "Good night, Will."

Willow returned his tender smile with one of her own. " 'Night, Oz."

She then turned and went up the stairs, brushing by Kennedy without a word.

As Oz began to move towards his room, he felt Kennedy's hand shooting out roughly grab his arm. The girl had quickly moved down the stairs as soon as Willow had gone up.

"Just so you know?" Kennedy scowled as she gruffly faced the werewolf. "I know what you're trying to do. And I'm telling you, Fido…you're not gonna win this."

Oz gave Kennedy a nonplussed, blank stare. "Wasn't aware this was a competition."

His unflappable demeanor only further pissed off Kennedy, made her want to shake him hard just so she could get a reaction out of him, rattle that annoying stoic Cool Guy mojo of his. "Damn right it's a competition," Kennedy coldly replied. "And it's one that I'm going to win. You're not taking Willow from me. You're not stealing her from me. She's mine, got it?"

"See, that's the thing, um, Kennedy, was it?" Oz replied calmly, steady as a ship on smooth waters. "Willow's free to do as she pleases. Always has been. She's nobody's to keep. Not mine…and not yours."

The young werewolf's aloof calmness and sharp answers just made the hotheaded Potential's blood boil further.

"You've just got an answer for everything, don't you?" an irritated Kennedy snidely asked.

Oz merely smirked. "Well, I did get the highest SAT score in Sunnydale High history among nongraduates."

Kennedy was fuming now. He was just driving her crazy! "I'm warning you, Osbourne. If you even try to make a move on Willow…I'm taking you down, and I'll make sure you never get back up. You understand?"

"Well, if your relationship is strong enough, you shouldn't have anything to worry about." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Is it?"

Kennedy narrowed her eyes at him, yet couldn't find anything to say.

With that, Oz gently pushed Kennedy's hand off his biceps and walked up the stairs towards his room, leaving the hotheaded Potential stewing in silent fury.

She was losing Willow, a part of the entitled rich young woman realized in dismay. The complete dissolution of their relationship was imminent, and deep down she knew that, try as she might to deny it.

And it was all Oz's fault, she decided, balling her fists into tight knots. That little mutt has to go…

Yet she knew that getting him out of the picture wasn't going to be easy, especially not in this house, where Buffy Summers ruled with an iron fist. The elder Slayer was very protective of her precious inner circle of friends.

However, Kennedy mused, she had seen the cracks in Buffy's armor. It was clear that she was getting off the rails since that tussle with Caleb. And she had seemed even more uptight than usual since her little undead boytoy Angel had vanished on his stupid quest. She was wobbling. Maybe all she needed was a little…push…in the right direction.

And then maybe I can get things the way they should be, Kennedy mused. All I have to do is wait for Buffy to make another mistake…then it should be a snap to get the others to see what a danger she is to all of us. And with Buffy out of the picture, maybe I can start getting some say around here. Get that damn wolf boy out of the picture, and then Willow will come around. She'll see that I'm the right choice for her. Yeah. She'll see. She has to…


Sunnydale, California, The Summers Home - 1630 Revello Drive

7:34 a.m.

The next morning

Days Left Before the End of Days: 9


Slowly, Buffy's mind began to emerge from the depths of deep sleep.

Wincing reflexively, Buffy's eyes peeled themselves open before she was fully awake. Eyelids still heavy, and cheek still sore from the bruise left by Faith's return punch during their brief skirmish last night, Buffy groaned as she rolled over in bed.

She didn't even have time to change out of her clothes, she wearily noted in silent rebuke. Big fashion and etiquette no-no. But that somehow seemed unimportant now.

Yesterday was just…a very bad day, she realized as she turned over in bed on her side, staring at the digital clock on her night table. The beating she took from Caleb, the pictures she saw of how he displayed her like a morbid trophy in her own school, seeing Dawn drunk, the Potentials running wild at the Bronze fighting cops, her short-lived yet heated fight with Faith, failing to save that man…and most embarrassing of all, she noted as she winced, her desperate phone call to Angel that she now wished she could have taken back. God, she must have sounded so needy, so desperate, so…so weak, she realized, disgusted with herself.

It was bad enough that The First had the Keystone and an army at its beck and call. But with Caleb there, too, and the litany of personal problems that were mounting at her doorstep, Buffy was beginning to fee things spiral out of control. And she was always in control. But this time was different, she was beginning to realize. She hadn't felt this overwhelmed since Glory. And she knew very well how that ended.

Added to that…she hadn't been able to dull the ache of her breakup with Angel.

No matter how much or how hard she tried, she couldn't block out that pain. The sting, the venomous bite of his rejection of her…again.

Buffy hated how much it hurt. How much pain, how much agony it has caused in her heart, her soul. How lonely it made her feel, to have to suffer in silence alone and quietly, without anyone to talk to about it. Willow was too busy with her own problems. Xander was dealing with that awful crippling injury, and even without it, she knew he had never been a fan of her and Angel's relationship. Giles was…there was a growing space between them that had been forming for a while now, made worse by his complicity in helping Robin try to kill Spike. Dawn was still too young to understand. Spike was off somewhere on a mission she hadn't authorized, and even then, she knew it was probably not a good idea to confide in Spike about her romance troubles with his eternal rival and the man Buffy chose over him. Anya…no, Buffy decided quickly. And that went double for Faith, Buffy knew that, especially after what had happened the night before. She didn't want to burden Cordelia with her troubles when the poor girl had been suffering so much already with her own guilt from her possession at Jasmine's and the Beastmaster's hands. Wesley…well, he and Buffy never were particularly close, and the now-morose, cynical ex-Watcher didn't look like he was in the best place emotionally to have these kinds of talks, anyway. While she liked Gunn and Fred, she still didn't know either of them well enough to just dump her emotional baggage on them. Same for Lorne. And Andrew…Buffy almost laughed at the thought of confiding in the eternally pubescent, sci-fi-obsessed geek.

No, Buffy had to deal with this alone. Like she always had.

That's okay, The Slayer inside of told herself. You've done it before, you'll do it again, like you always have. The Slayer doesn't need friends. The Slayer doesn't need love. All we have is me…and that's ALL we need…

Feel free to shut up anytime now, Buffy inwardly snapped at the dark voice in her head, shutting it out as she closed her eyes. She counted to 20, slowly, breathing deeply, focusing her calm, collecting her thoughts. Then she slowly opened her eyelids again and sat up on the edge of the bed. Quietly, she checked her phone, part of her quietly hoping that maybe Angel had gotten her call. Had returned it somehow. But as she scrolled through her phone, her heart sank. Nothing. No voicemail. No text. No indication that he had even received her call, her plea for help. Which meant that he was either dead, or in danger, or he was too busy, or…or he just doesn't care about me anymore, a dark, insecure part of her heart whispered jeeringly at her.

She silently resolved then to get over this. It was clear to her now that Angel had made his decision. He didn't care. He hadn't even picked up the phone last night. He hadn't even left her a voicemail. A text. Anything. Well, that was fine, she told herself. If he didn't care about her enough to let her know he got her message, then screw him. She had stopped apocalypses without him, and this one would be no different. This is what I do. I'm Buffy Summers, she told herself fervently. I'm Buffy Summers. The Slayer. I face the odds and I punch them in the face. I can do this. I can…I can do this…I have to…

Her thoughts burdened, her heart cracked and bruised, but her will unbroken, unyielding, the young, beautiful Slayer languidly trudged to her window, facing the empty streets of Revello Drive as the sun cleared over the horizon.

C'mon, Buffy, she silently encouraged herself. Forget about yesterday. It's a new day, and you've got an apocalypse to stop. Another day, another chance to do better…

Sucking in a deep breath, Buffy sighed, wearily. "Just another day in Sunnydale. Lucky me."


Sunnydale, California, Xander Harris's Apartment - 423 West 6th Street

7:34 a.m.


Oww…

That was the first thought that had entered the mind of Xander Harris.

He had finally started to come to from his alcohol-induced stupor with a splitting headache that made him feel as though Olaf the Troll was somehow shrunk inside of his head and using that stupid hammer of his to use his skull as a xylophone to play some ancient Viking song that probably involved a lot of mead-drinking, splitting enemy skulls and dishonoring local maidens.

Coughing as his body began coming to life, Xander's mind was a jumble of unfocused thoughts. He tried to piece together what he could remember of the night before.

He remembered leaving the hospital, there was that. Then they stopped at the Bronze. Okay, better… Then he remembered dancing with beautiful Cordelia, kissing her. Much better, he decided in a bleary haze. Then he remembered those jerks Mitch and Guy heckling him, making fun of his lack of eye. Less better, Xander swallowed, his eyes still closed. He remembered alcohol, and a lot of it. Much less better. He remembered Cordelia's hurt, tearful face, the sting of her slap against his cheek, the heated, hurtful words they hurled at each other. God, can we get back to better? Sitting alone at the bar, drinking his sorrows away…and then…Anya…

Kissing Anya…

getting into that cab with her…

going back to his apartment…

more kissing…

then a lot more than just kissing…

A sinking feeling of dread began to form in the pit of Xander's stomach, his hand absently reaching over to the left side of his bed, where he felt something soft and warm and suspiciously female next to him…

"Hmm-mmmm…."

A decidedly female voice softly purred in blissful sleep in response. A voice that he knew instantly was not Cordelia's.

Slowly, full of dread, Xander slowly opened his lone good eye and turned to the sleeping form next to him…

Anya.

Very naked, very beautiful Anya lying on her side, sleeping in total peace, a soft smile on her face as she dreamt about something.

A year ago, such a sight would have warmed Xander's heart. Now, however, it only filled him with shock. And shame. And regret. And…and fear.

What would Cordelia think if she walked in on him and saw him like this? In bed with his ex-fiancee when they were trying to rekindle their relationship?

Xander started to feel sick again, wanting to throw up, and not just from the alcohol that was leaving his system. How had he let this happen? How could he have done something this stupid? He and Anya had ended it between them. Despite still caring for her, Xander had come to realize that their time together was over. He had to move on. Conversely, while he thought the chance to be with Cordelia had ended long ago, now fate had put him in a place where he and her could rebuild what they had lost, start again, stronger, better, more maturely.

But now? Now he was put in the terrible position of hurting not one, but both of the women who he had cared most about in his life.

And it's all my fault, he swallowed, lifting a dismayed hand to his forehead. Lorne was right. I should have listened to him. But I didn't. I did this…

"Oh, God," Xander muttered, stunned and miserable and hung over. "What have I done?"


Sunnydale, California, The Summers Home - 1630 Revello Drive

8:39 p.m.


An entire night had passed since last night's Battle at the Bronze, and it did nothing to ease Faith's temper. Or her worries.

The former rogue Slayer stood on the porch, looking out into the street. She was smoking, clearly trying to cool off. Her mind was abuzz with so many thoughts.

Confusion, at just what the hell happened to her mind last night. The flashes of disturbing images, the horrific visions, the torture she survived, the victims from her past that didn't, that strange voice in her head that kept whispering to kill those damned cops…it was too much.

Anger, at Spike, for not letting this thing drop. For insisting that she open up to him about something that she really, really didn't want to think about.

Guilt, at pushing him away, quite literally, before he set off on a pretty dangerous road trip. Part of her realized that if something happened to him while he was out there, alone, with nothing but Andrew and his wits, that their last words to each other would have been a fight. The last thing she would have said to him was to leave her alone. And that's the last thing she wanted. She'd done being alone her whole life. She hated being alone. Alone sucks, she realized long ago. All Spike was trying to do was help her, she knew that. And part of her heart really did want to let him, she really, really did. But she just didn't know how…

Gratitude, and yet more confusion, with Wesley. How he had saved her life. Twice. Her former Watcher. Someone she had hurt, betrayed. Someone she had hurt badly. Yet had saved her from a fate that most Slayers had befallen. And she had no idea what that meant…

More anger, this time at Buffy. She flashed back to the two of them trading blows the night before. How it took everything she had not to just lash out and give in to her desire to have at it, to rumble until only one of them walked out of that alley.

She had not been banking on all of this when she had busted out of jail weeks ago to help Angel out.

God, I wish Angel was here, she thought in misery. He's always been good at the Yoda shtick. Always knows what to say, what I need to hear.

She was so busy in her own tortured thoughts that she almost didn't notice a man had approached her.

Principal Robin Wood.

Faith had seen him around, but they hadn't had much time to talk. But she had to admit to herself, he was quite the hottie. Almost as hot as Spike, a traitorous part of her heart mused before she swatted that thought away quickly.

Lately, Wood had suddenly had a lot of free time on his hands. After The First's series of mini-plagues a few days ago caused the mass exodus of people from Sunnydale, the state finally made the call to shut down Sunnydale High School indefinitely. Leaving him on an indefinite hiatus. And much more time to prepare for the coming battle.

As he approached Faith, Wood casually asked her, "Big meeting started yet?"

Not looking at him, she drawled, "God, I hope so."

He chuckled a little, giving her the once-over as he subtly checked out Faith's perfect body. But the attractive Boston brunette Slayer noticed it; she had seen that look on many a guy before. Yet she didn't pay it any mind.

"Faith, right? We, um, haven't been formally introduced," he said, remembering who she was. "I'm—"

"Principal Wood. I know," Faith finished, looking at him again. "Back in the saddle again, I see."

Part of her felt guilty talking to this guy, no matter how attractive he was. He had tried to kill Spike, after all. And Angel, from what she was told. Angel was like family to her, and Spike was…something too complicated for me to figure out right now, she realized. Still, Faith was nothing if not loyal, and so part of her was a little on the fence about breaking bread with someone who had a bad history with people she cared about.

Still, Faith relented, maybe sharing a few words with this guy was better than just sitting out here stewing alone. She never was one to stew.

"It hasn't really started, has it?" He asked her. "I hate being late."

Faith merely shrugged. "Troops are still gathering. You're safe."

He didn't go inside. Instead, he looked her over and caught sight of a bruise on Faith's jaw. "Someone banged you up pretty good."

"Yeah. Cops, this time. Mostly," she added dryly, flashing back to her impromptu brawl with those dirty cops the night before.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Mostly?" He had heard that Faith had narrowly escaped torture at the hands of The First from the others, but he had been unaware of the previous night's events, having been too busy keeping some of the Potentials safe at his place.

Frowning deeply as she recalled exchanging blows with Buffy, Faith gingerly touched her jaw. "This one was from someone who just thinks she's a cop." She gently brushed it, the bruise still a tad tender. "It's my favorite of all my current bruises."

Faith checked him out, gestured. "Someone banged you up pretty good, too."

Faith had heard about how Buffy and Angel had roughed up Wood and Kennedy back when the Hyperion Hotel had still been standing. Part of her almost pitied him. He had no idea that he was already doomed fighting the both of them at the same time. Faith had learned that the hard way a long time ago.

"I have no favorite bruises," he drawled. "I love them all the same."

There was silence.

Despite himself, Wood admitted silently that Faith was a very beautiful young woman, even with the bruises. And she was a Slayer, like his mother. He had also heard rumors that she had getting cozy with that damned Spike, who murdered his mother. That he didn't care much for. But he wasn't about to hold that against Faith, not when she carried the same mantle his mother once wore bravely, he mused.

For reasons he didn't completely get, Wood started to casually flirt with her. "So someone thinks she's a cop, huh? You're not gonna have to, like, ice her now or something, are you?"

As she raised her eyebrow, he added sheepishly, "I don't know a lot about how prison works."

She smiled at his dorkiness. "I'm not going to kill her. Don't get me wrong…I wanted to. But I didn't. And by the way, bully for me, since no one else said it."

"For not killing Buffy?" he finished for her, eyebrow raised.

"It's this new thing I'm trying," she said coolly.

He scrutinized her for a moment. Remembered all he had heard about Faith. Slayer turned rogue, sided with the former mayor of this town, killed people, tried to help start an apocalypse, fought Buffy to the death once. Dangerous, deadly and not all stable. Beautiful. And how she went through guys like Giles went through Earl Grey tea bags. Beautiful…

"Buffy told me about you," he said, in deep thought as he regarded her.

Faith merely smirked, looking back out at the street before she took another drag of her cigarette. "Believe every word."

"So what changed?" the principal and freelance vampire hunter asked her.

As Faith looked questioningly at him, he elaborated, "Why didn't you fight back?"

Flashes of violence flickered in her mind…

Of stabbing the Deputy Mayor to death.

Of murdering poor Professor Worth.

Of battling Buffy tooth and nail to the death years ago.

Of viciously fighting Angel in that rainy alley, trying to get him to kill her, to end her suffering existence. Of breaking down his arms as she came to terms with all of her pain, all of her sins, all of her loneliness…

Her mind jarred violently, and returned to the present again, not looking at Wood. "Other things matter more," she replied simply, shrugging.

Yet he kept studying her. "I think that's not all."

Faith scoffed a little. "You do?" she asked wryly.

But Robin wasn't put off by it, at all. "I do. You look like . . . I think you're worried about her."

She favored him with a sour smile. "I think you need to brush up on your Faith-and-Buffy history."

"Okay, you say so." The former principal paused, not so convinced. "It's just . . . I read people pretty well. It's a thing I do."

"You read people," Faith echoed, unconvinced. Spike's good at that, too. Better than this guy, anyway.

Faith cursed herself for her Spike-centric thoughts rattling around her brain again. Damn it, she didn't want to think about him. Not now, anyway…it still hurt to.

Still, part of her couldn't help but feel guilty. Her and Spike had…something. It was hard to define, hard to explain, but it was something. Something exciting. And hot and yet gently warm, and dangerous yet thrilling. Yet at the core of it, something true. Something…real. And tangible. Something that could lead somewhere…yet here she was, talking to some other guy, a good-looking guy, who was flirting with her. A guy she knew that her not-guy didn't like, and vice versa.

And part of her liked that he was flirting. Not to say that she was interested in Wood, but here she was, feeling crappy, missing Angel, missing Spike, more than she wanted to admit, and missing being cared for, and it was kinda…nice, talking to someone again like this, she relented.

At Wood's nod at her previous question, she said, "You live around here, right?"

He was caught off guard. "Uh, no, I mean, the center of town, really, but . . ."

"Where'd you park?" she pressed him, her eyes now studying him, for a change.

"I walked," he told her, even more confused.

She moved a little closer, nothing too obvious, but enough to make him a little nervous. "Yeah. I noticed. Interesting. Long way to walk. Especially in a place like Sunnydale."

Then she moved in for the confrontation. "This town, walking anywhere after dark is like an extreme sport. Someone who didn't know you very well might think you were out looking for a fight or something."

He gave his head a little "no-way" shake. "You barely even know me."

Faith stood back, nodded, and smiled. "Just saying, maybe you've got bigger issues than what's wrong with B."

She gave him a little look, smirking. "I read people, too."

For a moment, Robin had no idea what to say to that. She was…different, he realized. Smarter than she let on. Insightful, too. A little rough around the edges, but Robin had to admit, she had some very nice edges.

And despite being intrigued by Faith genuinely, a part of Robin, a small dark part in his heart, briefly wondered…wouldn't it be something if I managed to stick it to the guy who killed my mother by stealing his girl?

As they regarded each other, headlights swept over them, and a car pulled up in the driveway.

"Xander's home," Faith said quietly.

And with that, she grimly realized, she'd have to come face-to-face with Buffy again. Yay…


Catholic monastery - Gilroy, CA

Same time


After hours and hours of traveling…and annoying, Spike groused silently as he recalled his companion's endless chit-chat… Spike and Andrew were finally off the hog and in the Gilroy Mission.

Spike's senses immediately went on alert, his preternatural eyes scanning the outside for any threats, his well-tuned nose sniffing the air for any clues and smells.

He turned back to Andrew. "Stay alert, little boy," he warned. "We don't know this turf. If there's trouble, ol' Spike might not be fast enough to save your little pasty board game-lovin' arse."

Nervously, Andrew nodded, vowing silently to cling as close to Spike as Linus from 'Peanuts' clung to his beloved blanket.

Shaking his head, Spike turned back to the ominously quiet building in front of them. Even with the silence, his senses told Spike that something bad had happened here. He could still smell the faint coppery scent of blood in the air. And fear.

Bugger all, just get this over with, he chided himself. The sooner we can Nancy bloody Drew what happened here, the sooner I can get back to the others. Back to…back to Faith…

Readying himself, Spike entered the eerily silent monastery, Andrew right behind him.

It was dark and very Spanish adobe, and as they crept down the hall, Andrew murmured, "No one's here. These kind of places make me feel funny inside."

"How about that," Spike drawled. "You and me got something else in common after all."

Perhaps sensing a bonding opportunity, Andrew moved into confessional mode. "This one time, when I was in Sunday school, I woke up later, so my mom made me skip breakfast, and I was really hungry; so I told the teacher I had to go to the bathroom, but I really broke into the supply cabinet and ate a whole package of communion wafers."

Spike rolled his eyes in boredom. "Yeah? Good on you, boy," he drawled tiredly.

"Yeah," Andrew said proudly. Then he paused. "But then I got sick for two days . . ."

Despite the danger that may be waiting in the dark, Spike's patience was at an end with Andrew's prattling. He paused, then turned to his chattering companion, quietly snarling, "Oh, for God's sake, ya stupid tit, don't you ever just shut up and—?"

WHOOSH!

Without warning, a side door suddenly slammed opened and a dark, hooded figure rushed them, tackling Andrew.

"Spike!" Andrew yelped fearfully, calling for help and just about to wet his pants.

Swiftly, Spike leaped, throwing the hooded figure off Andrew. Andrew fell against the wall as the hooded figure swung at Spike hard enough to stumble; then Andrew kicked out his feet and used them to grab hold of the figure's feet.

Their attacker went down like a ton of bricks.

"Nice one," a mildly impressed Spike muttered mid-struggle to Andrew as he went for the attacker. Maybe he's not completely useless after all…

The robed man's hood came off and Spike grabbed him by the neck with one powerful hand, picked him up and effortlessly slammed the man against the wall.

Spike pushed him into the light.

He was just a man, a middle-aged, terrorized man wearing the clerical collar of a Catholic priest . . . and a mark burned into his cheek.

Caleb's mark, Spike realized immediately, feeling a growl bubble at the base of his throat.

The priest closed his eyes and began to pray, then opened them again and said to Spike.

"Please. Do it quickly." Tobias shut his eyes again, waited for death.

Nothing happened.

Spike and Andrew merely looked at each other, exchanging quizzical stares. Then Spike rolled his eyes, and looked away from the nerdling back to the monk. Bloody hell, like that little pansy would have a clue about what's goin' on…

Tobias opened his eyes again, confused. The monk stammered, "Y-Y-You're not going to . . . ?"

Shaking his head, Spike crouched down so that he was face-to-face with the terrified monk. His voice was smooth, calm, but just a hint of threat seasoned into it. "Not without us having a good death-bed chat."

His keen eyes then zeroed in on the reddened burn mark on Tobias's face. Then he said in a calm, yet somehow still menacing voice, "Tell me about the tat."

The priest covered the mark; he shook his head, too terrified to talk.

"Hey." Spike glowered at him. "None of that, now, Jitters. Are you part of Caleb's faction?"

"No! No!" the priest cried.

"Then tell me what happened," Spike said calmly, being careful enough not to scare him, but just enough to pressure him as the man got more and more frightened, if that were possible. Fear wasn't going to be what he needed to get this man to talk, the blond vampire realized. He had to get Monk Boy here to trust him. So he had to do it Buffy's way, or…Angel's way, he relented, much as it made Spike want to throw up to concede that to his smug, brooding ponce of a Grandsire.

The stink of fear was all over the monk, Spike's nose being assaulted by the stench. He'd been scared for days, now, the scent told Spike. And he hadn't showered, making the smell even worse for Spike to withstand. Thankfully, he'd learned to withstand worse over his long life.

"I—I can't," a jittery Tobias stammered, trauma and fear clouding his eyes. "I–I…I can't…"

'Can't' is a four-letter word," Andrew interjected, suddenly finding his manhood and tough gene. Imitating every cop he had ever seen in the movies, he stood behind Spike, hands on hips, and said, "I'm Andrew. I'll be your 'bad cop' this evening. So you better start singing or my associate here—"

"Shut up, boy, the grown ups are talking!" an irritated Spike snapped at Andrew, who immediately clammed up.

Cursing his temper…and Andrew…Spike remembered that he needed to take the Nice Guy approach with this witness. Turning back to the holy man, Spike shut his eyes for a moment, opened them again, locked eyes with the monk, then quietly and calmly said, "We're trying to fight him. Caleb. We need your help."

The priest let out a small, bitter laugh. "You can't fight him. You can't stop him. You can only . . . run."

Andrew came back in, all puffed up and full of false bravado. " 'Run' is a four-letter word…wait…a three-letter word—!"

"You get one more warning, Urkel. One," Spike glared at Andrew warningly, who pouted before he wisely clammed up again, and Spike returned to his regularly scheduled interrogation.

He gently encouraged the man again. "Talk." Then he stood over the man, his body language a little less gentle. Spike wanted answers. And he wanted them right now.

The priest thought a moment. Despite the fear and terror he had endured nights ago at Caleb's hands, the uncertainty, something told him he could trust the strange man in black and the…stranger boy he was tagging along with.

Tobias locked eyes with Spike. "I'll do better. I'll show you."

Satisfied, Spike extended his hand to help Tobias up. The monk took a moment, then accepted, letting the stronger Spike pull him to his feet.

"The name's Spike. William the Bloody, to others," Spike shrugged nonchalantly, introducing himself to the monk. Wryly motioning to his companion, Spike continued, "And the little girl here's name is Andrew."

Offended, Andrew began to whine in protest. "Hey—!"

"Tobias," the monk greeted quietly, both men ignoring the comic geek.

"Right, then," Spike nodded. "Welp…lead the way, Toby. We've got an apocalypse to stop."

Dusting himself off, Tobias then led them around a corner, where he picked up a lighted torch from a stand.

As he they walked down the corridor, he said, "One night, some time ago, a man arrived at our doors."

Yup. Gotta be Caleb, Spike realized grimly.

"And you said, 'C'mon in, do some damage?'" Spike drawled.

"We are a benevolent order, and yes, we welcomed him," the priest said. "We offered to feed him."

They reached the end of the corridor. To Spike's surprise, the man pushed the statue of the Virgin Mary on the wall…

…and a secret room whooshed into view.

"But he had come for something else," the priest said.

They entered the small dark room. It was covered with tapestries, very religious-like, reminded Spike of Europe. Back in the day, he'd been sorry he'd missed the Inquisition. Of course, that had been long before his soul. Or even his chip. He had switched sides to play for the White Hats now. And lately, that hadn't exactly been a cakewalk for him. Especially in his love life. Dru, Buffy…Faith, he thought, wistfully especially at the thought of the dark-haired Slayer that had haunted his thoughts of late. Doin' the right thing hasn't exactly worked out wonders for my love life, has it?

He silently pushed those thoughts away as he returned his attention to Tobias's words.

"He made his way here, to the inner sanctum," the monk continued, noticeably still trembling as he held the candelabra. "He was excited, talking the whole time. Destiny, that sort of thing."

"Yeah, we hear he's a real smooth talker," Spike drawled, scowling as he thought of that smug, gloating douchebag of a fake preacher and just how much he wanted to take a railroad spike and ram it through the other man's privates for what he did to him and the others in the vineyard…and worse, what he did to Faith. And Buffy.

"He revealed something we didn't even know was here. Before our time." The priest removed a framed tapestry about three foot-square from the wall.

Behind it hung an ancient-looking stone panel carved with patterns and strange words that Spike recognized to be Latin. Real old Latin. Thankfully, Spike noted, he had learned the dead language well back a century ago when he was just human William Pratt, a bookish, awkward poet that was better at learning from books than he was at writing poetry, or attracting women.

"He read it. And he didn't like what it said," Tobias told Spike and Andrew, shuddering as he remembered the rage in Caleb's eyes, the violence, the pure evil. "His temper . . . he was like . . . he was the purest evil I have ever seen."

The monk then touched his burnt cheek, and his gaze became unfocused as he remembered the slaughter. "He heated his ring against a lighter, pressed it against me. And then I . . . I ran. And hid. And listened to the others die."

Tobias's voice broke, looking down, shame and grief at the loss of his brethren filling him up, overflowing.

Andrew silently dropped his fake tough guy act. He remembered all the times he had left his late friend Jonathan behind, facing the wrath of The Slayer…Buffy, he corrected himself, remembering that she was a person now, someone he liked, and not some superheroine that he was trying to help take down as a failed excuse of a villain. It was something he had regretted, and would never stop regretting, leaving his best friend behind, treating him the way that Andrew himself was treated when he was bullied and ostracized all through high school for being different.

And worse, he realized, he probably would have done the same thing if he was in Tobias's shoes when Caleb came a-knocking here. How could he possibly have helped in any way? Caleb was a real supervillain. A twisted monster, a cape-killer who liked killing and especially liked killing heroes. And him? I'm…I'm just…just Andrew, he realized in helpless misery.

"Running away…" Andrew muttered quietly, giving Tobias an understanding look. "It saved your life."

Tobias nodded quietly in gratitude, but the words were cold comfort. His brothers were dead, yet he was still here. It just didn't seem fair.

It was then that Andrew realized that Spike was reading the words on the stone tablet. "What does it say?"

Spike frowned as he read the ancient words carved into the stone.

"'It is not for thee,' " Spike read. Then he paused for a moment, eyes widening slightly as he read the next words. "'It is for her alone to wield.'"

It dawned on Spike instantly. Whatever it was that was here, Caleb was after it. Because it had been meant for Buffy. For the Slayer.

And if it wasn't here and Caleb couldn't find it…then there was still hope.

Still hope that they could win.

Both relieved and feeling a little more confident, Spike allowed himself a smirk. Your secret's out, Caleb, ya wanker. Better count your days. We're coming for you.


Sunnydale, California, The Summers Home - 1630 Revello Drive

8:49 p.m.


Trailing after Willow, Oz and Anya, Xander entered Buffy's house. In the living room, about thirty people stared back at him as he caught sight of a hastily-made welcome-home banner draped across the living room.

Not in yellow crayon, but Xander understood the sentiment. Though not loving the spotlight, he was touched. Moved, even.

Oz turned back to Xander. "You good, dude?" he asked, concerned.

Xander nodded back at his old friend. "I'm good. Thanks, Oz."

As she saw him slowly enter the room, Cordelia's eyes brightened as hers met his.

So did Xander's eyes, a brief flicker of hope sparking in his heart. Cordy…

Then just as quickly, Cordelia, remembering what happened the night before, quickly masked her feelings, looking away from him as she folded her arms over her chest. Xander felt his heart painfully constrict inside of him.

He messed up with her. Again. For the second time in years. Somehow, that pain felt worse than the loss of his eye.

Little Dawnie rushed forward and gave him a huge hug.

Giles stepped forward. He gave Xander a warm look. The warmest that Xander could ever remember receiving from him in all these years. He and Giles had often clashed in personalities, but in the end, they were all part of the same wonderful, often-dysfunctional makeshift family.

"How are you feeling?" Giles asked, concerned.

Xander gave him a crooked smile. "Little banged up, but ready to pinch hit, coach," he joked weakly.

Giles allowed himself a brief chuckle before he looked at Xander gratefully. "I know, son. I know."

He…he called me 'son'. For a moment, Xander almost felt overemotional. That was the highest compliment Giles, a man he had always respected and admired, had ever given him.

Gunn and Fred were next. Gunn rested his hand on Xander's shoulder, smiling. "You look good."

Xander chuckled wryly at his new friend. "Can't look at much."

Gunn looked at him in sympathy. "You will. Soon enough."

Fred surprised Xander by giving him a hug. "We're so glad you're okay," she murmured.

Taking a moment before hugging the pretty physics whiz back, Xander then smiled awkwardly, touched. "Th-thanks, Fred."

Looking over at Wesley, the ex-Watcher said nothing, but gave him a half-smile and a nod of respect. Xander, appreciating that, gave him a similar smile and nodded back in return.

Then Faith came in, too, followed by Wood.

Faith gave Xander a surprisingly warm smile. They weren't exactly friends and had a complicated history between them, but Faith was still glad to see him up and about. "How're you feeling, Xand?"

Xander gave her a weak smile back, appreciating her concern. "Well, not exactly ready to run a marathon anytime soon, but I'm good." He nodded in appreciation. "Thanks, Faith."

She nodded back in kind, satisfied.

Lorne stepped towards him, giving the wounded Heart of the Scoobies a sympathetic glance. "You good now, Slim? You weren't exactly in…good spirits last time," he asked sincerely, not reacting to his unintentional pun.

Xander nodded. "Better." He then gave the anagogic green demon an apologetic glance. "Lorne…the other night, I was a jerk to you, and I'm so sorry that I—"

"Shh. Don't worry about it," Lorne graciously winked at him. "We all have our bad days, kid. We're allowed to mess up every once in a while. Some of us more than once."

Xander nodded, gratefully. He knew he had a lot to apologize for after that night.

As he looked at Cordelia, who looked away from him with not-so-disguised hurt in her eyes, it dawned on him that his task was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

"We didn't have time to do more," Dawn sadly told him. "You have to pretend there's a big party here."

"That's fine, actually," he quipped. "Parties in this house . . . I usually end up having to rebuild something."

Despite how angry she was with Xander, Cordelia could only shake her head and smile at him.

"I was thinking of smashing a window just to make you feel at home, but then I thought, you know, no. Also, Buffy and Cordy wouldn't let me," Dawn joked, shrugging.

Xander smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but then an old friend coming down the stairs beat him to the punch…


Emerging from down the stairs, Buffy quietly entered the room.

The first person who locked eyes with her was Faith.

The dark-haired Slayer said nothing, but folded her arms, staring icily at Buffy. It was clear that all was not forgiven and forgotten from last night. Pursing her lips together tightly, Buffy tried to no-sell it, holding Faith's stare and meeting it with a blank expression, trying to show little-to-no emotion.

Despite her own feelings, she couldn't afford to piss Faith off any further right now, Buffy realized. Not with what he was about to tell the rest of the group. She was going to need as much support as she could get. She had to play this smart. Like, Olenna Tyrell in Game of Thrones-level smart…

As soon as she saw her other best friend, the blonde Slayer's heart both lifted with joy and constricted with pain. Xander was back. He was finally back. But he wasn't the same, Buffy could see that. And only time would tell if he could ever be the same again.

And that's because of me, Buffy thought, her heart cracking with that guilt. Squashing it quickly, she returned her gaze to her old friend.

"Welcome home, Xand," Buffy said softly, giving him a meaningful smile.

Xander met her gaze and smiled back, gratefully. He said nothing. But nothing needed to be said. He was back where he belonged, at last.

The moment was brief, but tender.

But then what happened next was more business than happiness, and Buffy continued on, saying, "I wanted you to be here for this. I think you're going to be interested in what I found out."

Silently, Xander was hurt. He had hoped for something a little more heartfelt with his other best friend and former crush for his big homecoming since…since Caleb…yet it was evident that it was not going to happen tonight.

Buffy's declaration was news to Willow. She checked Giles out. He, too, looked confused and out of the loop-y.

Ignoring their confusion, Buffy looked to the entire group, making sure she was addressing them all before she continued. "It's…it's about the vineyard."

Uh-oh. Willow looked up, caught Dawn looking back. They exchanged a look, both concerned about where this was going. . . .

As Buffy predicted, everyone's faces told a story. Some looked sad, some resentful, others petrified. "Look, I know that night wasn't fun for any of us... but I figured out some things about that place, and I realize now what we have to do."

Buffy summoned a deep breath, before she delivered the bombshell...again.

"We're going back in."

A series of gasps, hushed whispers and murmurs of 'What?' rippled through the Summers home.

"Um…come again?" a wary Fred asked, not at all thrilled by this plan.

"Say what?", Gunn exclaimed, not quite believing what he just heard.

"Surely, you can't be serious", Wesley said, stunned.

Never one to mince words, Cordelia let her mouth speak the same thing everyone else in the room was thinking. "You've got to be kidding me!"

Buffy fought not to wince at the unenthusiastic reaction from her friends and allies. But she had anticipated this, she acknowledged. She knew what she was going to say wasn't going to be an easy sell, but she was sure that when they heard her out, they would be with her one hundred percent. Sucking in a deep breath, she pressed on.

"I said, 'We're going back into the vineyard', I'm not kidding, and my name's not 'Shirley'", Buffy tried to smile at her lame joke, but seeing the looks of doubt, fear, and, in some instances abject terror, the smile faded as quickly as it attempted to come.

The Slayer let out a sigh. Yeah, she could already tell this was going to be a really hard sell.

"Listen," Buffy said, her voice tinged with urgency. "I know what you're all thinking, scary place where heroes go 'boom!' but…" She looked at them all. "Then I had a visit at the school yesterday from Caleb."

A worried and now-alarmed Cordelia frowned. "I'm sorry, you had a visit from who now?" She looked to Gunn and Fred, silently asking with her eyes if what Buffy was saying was true. The longtime street fighter and the physics whiz gravely nodded in confirmation.

Watching that exchange, a startled Dawn looked at her sister, concerned. "Buffy, why didn't you—?"

"I'm fine, Dawn," Buffy quickly added, before returning her address to the group. "I mean, it wasn't exactly a visit to Disneyland, but I'm fine. I'm better than fine. Thanks to Gunn and Fred." She stopped, giving both Team Angel members a grateful look. Then she continued. "And I—well, we figured something out. He kept making all this noise about the school…"

"Why? Is it that seal again?" Robin asked, concerned.

"Do we need to try shutting it down?" Willow suggested.

"Shutting it down sounds much better than saddling up again," Cordelia decided, dreading the thought of returning to that hellhole.

"I second that emotion, Cordykins," Lorne quickly agreed with the sultry Seer.

"Let's just get Andrew", Anya piqued up, referring to the last time they closed the seal with Andrew's tears. "I'm sure there's plenty more tears in him. When he gets back, we'll just tell him they canceled 'Star Trek.'"

"Or whatever that 'DragonBall Z' thing is that he keeps bugging us about playing," Fred shrugged.

"Yeah, what is up with that? What even is that?" Faith asked, puzzled with the nerdling's obsession with that franchise.

"Anime," Gunn explained to her. "Lots of explosions, physics-bending battles, classic show."

"They do like their explosions," Oz concurred, absently.

Fighting not to lose her patience, Buffy shook her head emphatically, refocusing them from their banter. "No, that's just it. We've spent all this time worrying about the seal and the Hellmouth. But, Fred, you said so yourself." Buffy gestured to Fred, which made the shy bookish Team Angel member almost shrink back at the sudden attention she was receiving before Buffy pressed on. "Why isn't Caleb guarding them? Why doesn't he have someone there protecting it? Why is he camped out at the vineyard?"

Wesley looked at Fred, puzzled. "Fred, is this true? Do you believe this?"

Off everyone's looks at her, a flustered Fred shrugged, fidgeting slightly. "Well, yeah, it-it did seem weird to me. I mean, something wasn't adding up." Then she looked at Buffy, shaking her head. "But-but-but I didn't mean that we should go back there, Buffy! You remember what happened the last time, that place is dangerous!"

"I know," Buffy replied, sincerely. Yet she pressed on. "But you were right, Fred. I've been thinking about this over and over since last night. The bad guys always go where the power is. So if the seal was so important to Caleb and the First, they would be there right now. Guys, they're trying to shake us off the trail, it's a mislead! They're protecting the vineyard or something at the vineyard. I say it's their power."

Her hazel green eyes shone brightly with determination. "And I say it's time we go in and take it away from them."

Now they'll see, Buffy thought to herself optimistically, fighting not to smile. Now they'll be ready…

Unfortunately, as she read the room, a slightly deflating Buffy found that she had little-to-no support on this idea.

No support at all, actually.

Xander shook his head and looked down. Giles uncrossed his arms uncomfortably and sighed. Willow's eyes held nothing but doubt. Oz, usually stoic in his demeanor, had a disturbed look on his face. So did Cordelia, who shook her head in stunned disbelief. Gunn stood stone-faced, but his lips were rock-like in their rigidness, the Muscle of Angel Investigations stewing silently. A doubtful Fred looked away, obviously having her thoughts on this but opting not to say anything. Lorne awkwardly scratched his head. Wesley crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling in silent frustration. Anya merely folded her arms, but had distrust written all over her face. Dawn wasn't keen on it, either, the pretty teenager's face scrunched in worry.

The Potentials especially were worried, Molly looking almost pale at the thought of returning to the place where Caleb nearly killed her. Vi looked shaken, unsure. Amanda looked to the others, fear evident in her eyes. Caridad looked awkwardly to the floor, unsure of what to say. Rona looked like she was about to snap. Kennedy scoffed in disgust.

The entire household was all thinking the same thing—this was not a good idea.

Returning to the same place where The First, Caleb and their goons had curb-stomped them last time, a place they barely escaped with their lives, only this time with even fewer numbers at their disposal, down several key heroes and barely having licked their wounds?

They all realized that Buffy was essentially asking them to die; and none of them were keen on that.

One could practically hear a pin drop around the Summers home, it was that quiet.

Until Faith's voice broke the silence. "Or, in the alternative, how 'bout...we don't?"

Buffy whirled around, a mixture of surprise and annoyance on her face. It had been a long time since anyone had questioned her orders like that.

"I mean, it's a neat theory, B, but…we…I can't…", Faith stopped for a moment, squelching down the horrible memories that flickered in her mind's eye before continuing. "I'm not going back in that place again…Not without proof. And…and neither should you", she said with almost a pleading tone in her voice, something completely unfamiliar to herself and the people in the room who really knew her.

Her brown eyes then ticked to her allies…some of them even her friends now. Then to the remaining Potentials in the room. The last of the Slayer line. "And neither should they."

Despite what happened between them the other night, Buffy fought down the sympathy she felt for Faith stabbing her in the gut and pressed on. She knew Faith had gone through something horrible beyond reasoning, all because she decided to come to bat for the White Hats. But this was far too important to take anyone else's feelings into consideration now. When the war, their lives and the fate of an entire universe hinged on this one battle.

"Faith, I…look, I'm not saying it's gonna be easy—", she began.

"I think Faith had the floor", Robin cut her off, his tone gentle but leaving no room for argument.

Buffy stared at him, speechless. She could feel something wrong with this room, feel them slipping away.

"Maybe it ends OK the way you wanna play it," Faith continued, regaining her composure, "but maybe it doesn't. And right now, I don't think I want you playin' the odds. Not with our coins."

Buffy was hurt at this level of distrust. She protested, "I'm not just guessing about this—!"

"Buffy. You need to hear Faith out," Gunn said this time, his voice quiet but firm.

A wide-eyed Buffy turned to Gunn, stung at his words. She thought he would have understood the urgency of acting now.

"There is something there," she pressed on, urgently.

But Giles was not convinced. And he was most definitely not in favor of going back to a place where their allies were routed, and badly. "Maybe. But we don't know that for sure."

Buffy shook her head, growing frustrated. How could they not see what she did? The necessity of why they had to go in now, fast, before it was too late?

"Look. You're waiting for some kind of mystical sign to show up and tell us it's the right time, but that sort of thing almost never happens. At least, not for us," Buffy insisted, trying ever so hard to reign in her temper. "We need to strike now."

Yet Giles folded his arms, still unconvinced. "And I think whatever is there, if anything is there, will still be there in a few days."

Buffy gaped at him. Days? How many days does he think we have left?

"You don't know that. I don't know that!" Buffy insisted, her fists balling together as she fought to control her temper. "We don't know that. It's the fourth quarter, Giles, and time's running out. The Awakening is only a couple days away! The First wants to destroy all of reality and we're the only ones standing in its way. This might be our best chance to really hurt The First and its army. What if we let it go and we lose our chance? I'm not prepared to live with that."

Faith chimed in this time. "And if we rush in now, before we're ready, and then more people get hurt, maybe even die…are you prepared to live with that?"

Buffy turned to her, annoyed, staring at the former rogue Slayer hard as her temper began to flare.

Faith saw that, and decided to take a more measured tone with her. "All I'm saying is, you need to think about this, B. If you're wrong about this, there's no do-over. If you're wrong…we're all dead."

Buffy's patience ran out. Sympathy or not for what Faith was going through, she couldn't afford to let her troops see their leader be questioned in this manner. "Did you come here to fight?", she snapped, accusation dripping off each word.

Faith fought to keep her own temper in check at the harsh accusation, which given her recent state of mind, was a miracle in itself. "Listen, we're fighters, all of us, but you gotta give me something to fight, something real, not…" she paused, searching for the right word.

"Windmills", Giles's voice finished softly for her, looking at Buffy with sad, but stern eyes.

The analogy was not lost on Buffy. She was never a scholarly student, but she knew the story of Don Quixote from college. A brain-addled knight who went off in search of fighting monsters and evil-doers, but fought windmills in their stead, confusing them for monsters, earning ridicule and shame from all who bore witness.

Is that what they think?, she thought, insecurity wrapping around her like a blanket. They think I'm crazy?

Swatting that thought away, she pressed on. "Look, I understand how you all feel, but I'm not asking you. I'm telling you that we need to do this. Caleb has something there. Something important. Whatever it is, we need to take it from him. It could be a gamechanger for us! I-I-I don't know how to explain it to you, but I can feel it", she insisted heatedly.

"Maybe. But we can't be sure of that", Giles shook his head. "This…this is a hell of a lot to ask."

"Too much", Robin added.

"It really is, Vanilla Drop," Lorne said sympathetically. "This isn't a great idea. We don't exactly have the numbers, Angel's not here, Spike's gone, Connor ran off Trelinsk-knows-where…I'm no Major Tom, but even I know this rocket ship isn't gonna fly."

"Buffy…" Oz said quietly, looking sincerely at the blonde that had been a friend to him for so long. "We want to be with you, yeah. But I was there. I saw Caleb. And his crew. They're not messing around. They've got their whole Legion of Doom act down pat. They nearly wiped us all out last time when we were at almost full strength, and now, we're barely hanging on as it is. This plan…it's just not adding up."

Buffy realized she had rarely ever heard Oz talk that much before. And given the situation, that was not a good thing for her.

"Buffy…we almost died back there," a hesitant Fred tried to reason with her. "It wasn't just Caleb…you saw what we were facing. The Beast, Pearl and Nash, this…Ursilla or whatever-her-name-is, all those Bringers, that witch and the scary guy with no skin…and who knows what else there might be down there? We weren't ready. We're still not ready. Not with Angel still gone, and now with Spike gone and Connor missing. If we go back down there again…"

The Texan physics whiz swallowed, a spark of fear in her pretty eyes. "I don't think we're coming back."

Realizing she was losing them, Buffy felt a nervous grin spread on her face, looking around the room filled with doubting eyes and troubled faces. "I—I don't understand...For seven years, I've kept us safe by doing this— exactly this—making the hard decisions, the difficult choices, doing the stuff no one wants to do, but has to be done, anyway. And now, what— suddenly you're all acting like you can't trust me?"

Giles stiffly crossed his arms. "Didn't you say to me yesterday you can't trust us? Maybe there's something there that should be addressed."

Buffy folded her arms in kind, feeling defensive and for good reason. "You got something to say? Fine. Let's get it out in the open and fix it so we can get back to work."

Giles paused for a moment, as if considering if he really wanted to do this.

"Very well, then."

He then reached into his pocket…and threw several photos on the table. "Let's start with why you didn't tell us yesterday about all the details of your run-in with Caleb at the high school."

Her eyes growing wide, Buffy practically turned pale as she saw the pictures.

Those photos were of her…beaten, bloodied and tied to a cross. The same Polaroids that Caleb had taken of her the day before. Each one more disturbing than the last. A memento of their 'time' together.

The entire room practically gasped, murmurs of surprise and shock humming along the Potentials and her allies like a disturbing pulse of electricity.

"Oh my Goddess," Willow uttered in shock as she stood and grabbed the photos. She looked at Buffy, hurt and concerned. "Buffy, are-are-are you okay? Why didn't you say anything?"

Despite her anger and surprise, Buffy tried to hurriedly assure her best friend. "Will, I'm fine, really."

"Fine? Buffy, look at these!" a stunned Cordelia waved one photo of a crucified Buffy in front of the Slayer. "You could have died! How is that fine? You should have told us!"

"I said I'm fine, Cordelia! Would you just…!" Buffy insisted, trailing off as she looked at the wary looks given to her by every single person in the room.

Her cheeks flaming in humiliation, Buffy stared at Giles in shock, and betrayal. Unable to comprehend how the man she had come to see as a father could do this to her.

Then she turned that same questioning, hurt gaze to Fred, who last had those photos. Who promised Buffy she wouldn't show them to anyone.

Aghast, Fred quickly defended herself off Buffy's glance, almost pleading for the betrayed Slayer to believe her. "Wha…? I-I-I didn't! Buffy, I swear, I…!" She turned her eyes to Giles, the shy Texan genius now scowling. "Giles, how did you even—?"

"You, um…dropped them on the way out last night when you followed Buffy to the Bronze," Giles explained, giving the hurt and angry science prodigy an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry, Fred, I really am, but given the circumstances, I felt I had to—"

"Give us a reason not to trust you again?" Gunn finished, scowling at Giles. The seasoned street fighter was clearly not happy about this breach of trust, either.

"Guys, back off for a bit," Cordelia interjected, trying to diffuse the tense situation. She gave Giles an understanding look, remembering how the wise, fatherly Watcher had guided her and the Scoobies through dark times during the high school years. "You can trust him."

Grateful for her defense, Giles gave Cordelia an earnest half-smile. Turning his gaze back to Gunn, Giles sighed, but he did not back down. "Trust is what this is all about, Charles." He turned his serious gaze to Buffy. "As Buffy herself has just explained."

Shocked and concerned, Dawn stepped towards the disturbing photos of a bloodied and beaten Buffy, fighting not to flinch at any of them. She turned her betrayed eyes to her older sister. "Buffy, why didn't you say anything? How could you keep this from us?" From me?

Buffy took in a shaky breath as she turned towards her sister. "Dawn, it was nothing to worry about—"

"Nothing to worry about?" Dawn asked, incredulously, holding up the photos to her sister. She just couldn't believe that Buffy would keep something this dangerous from all of them. "Look at this, Buffy! You look like you're dying in these…things!" She tossed them on the table angrily, her blue eyes big and hurt. "Caleb nearly killed you, and you say it's nothing to worry about?"

"He didn't, though!" Buffy heatedly insisted, trying her best to hold her temper. "I'm here. See? I'm alive. I'm still standing."

"Barely," Giles replied frankly. He hated doing this to Buffy, but it had to be done. He wasn't sure she was making the right choices lately.

Buffy could barely believe what she was hearing. Her own Watcher. Challenging her like this. "You are unbelievable. Is that why you waited until Angel was gone? Is that why you sent Spike away, too? To ambush me?" she asked him, accusingly.

An exasperated Giles rolled his eyes and sighed. "Oh, come on!"

An annoyed Rona had enough. "You know what? I am sick of your deal with this Angel guy and this Spike guy. Look around you! This isn't about them. This is about you. You're being reckless."

The words sent the Slayer rolling back in surprise. "What?"

"You are!", Rona heatedly shot back. "I don't even know you, and I can tell! You are so obsessed with beating Caleb that you're willing to jump into any plan without thinking."

"That's not what I'm doing", an outraged Buffy ground out through gritted teeth.

Kennedy had been silently watching, observing the drama unfolding before her. Finally, she realized, after all this time, Buffy had a weak spot. And the younger, impetuous Potential went after it like a shark smelling blood in the water. She stood up, practically jumped up, trying ever-so-hard not to smirk as she stalked her way up to Buffy.

"Well, that's how it feels to us!", Kennedy sneered, getting into Buffy's face, seething as she verbally dressed Buffy down. "While you've been busy setting us up like chess pawns to be knocked down, hey, guess what? We've gotten nowhere fast, and you're running out of pieces to play with. This isn't a game. People are dying! We. Are dying. We've lost friends because of you. How many more of us are you going to get killed before you realize you're wrong? You can't stop The First, clearly you can't stop Caleb…"

Kennedy gestured to the photos of Buffy hanging from a cross before continuing her tirade, "...nothing you're doing is working! And yet you keep trying the same thing over and over again? You know, all I kept hearing the entire way I came here and all these last few weeks and months was how 'The Great Buffy Summers' was this amazing leader. 'Buffy's so brave, 'Buffy's so strong', 'Buffy never quits', 'Buffy's a born leader'. But so far? The only thing you've been leading us to is an early grave! Yet you're supposed to lead us to victory against The First and save the world? From what I've seen lately? You couldn't lead a damned parade!"

Heat flushed through The Slayer's cheeks as Kennedy's outburst sent fresh rage coursing through her body.

Just as Buffy was ready to lash back at the insolent Potential, Oz jumped in.

"Hey. Enough," the werewolf told Kennedy from his seat, warningly, his words economic as usual. But the quiet anger in them was noticeable. While he didn't care for Buffy's plan himself, he did not appreciate how this new girl was being so disrespectful to one of his closest friends when Kennedy had only been here for all of a minute.

Not liking that at all, Kennedy turned angry eyes to the young lupine musician who had gotten between her and Willow. "Oh, bite me, Dog Boy!" the wealthy boarding school brat dismissively spat.

But Oz didn't back down.

In fact, he stood right up.

His blue eyes narrowed, Oz said nothing at all, but it was as if an invisible aura around him suddenly grew tense, dangerous even. So much so that Kennedy subconsciously took a step back, cursing herself as she realized that she had ceded ground to her rival for Willow's affections.

At that insult to Oz, Willow stood up, walking towards the younger woman, trying to diffuse the situation as best she could.

The Witch's voice was firm with warning, though tempered with caution. "Kennedy. Back off. Stop it."

Already fed up with the tension between her and her so-called girlfriend, Kennedy turned to face the witch and angrily snapped, "I'm so sick of this, Willow! Why are you always standing up for her?"

Buffy smiled gratefully, relieved that at least her best friend was supporting her.

Willow's voice softly gave her morose reply. "I'm not."

Buffy's heart sunk. "What do you mean, 'you're not'?"

Willow hesitated as she turned to her best friend, but she had to say what she was really thinking. "Look, it-it-it's not your fault. You're just completely strung out."

Buffy's jaw dropped, shocked and offended at what her best friend just told her. "I'm a-who? I'm not—!"

But Willow pressed on, gentle but firm in making her point. "Yes. You are. I know you. You don't see it, Buffy, but I do. You're exhausted. You're not thinking straight. And you've had a lot to deal with lately. But you always try to keep going because we've kept needing you to. And-and-and maybe that's our fault. We've put too much pressure on you. Once you've had some rest, I think you'll be able to—"

"I don't need rest! Willow, I'm fine." Buffy was insistent, yet the hesitation in her eyes was evident, just for a moment. "I'm... I'm fine."

But Willow wasn't buying it. She knew Buffy better than Buffy did at times. She knew when her best friend was trying to take the weight of the world on her shoulders, and when she was being too stubborn to admit that she needed help.

"I'm not sure you are. With everything that's happened, Buffy, with you and Angel breaking up, and this Caleb thing, and everything else, I…" the pretty red-haired Witch shrugged, sadly as she admitted her true thoughts. "I'm worried about your judgment."

Buffy's eyes widened at Willow's inadvertent slip revealing her re-crumbled romance with Angel. Off her best friend's horrified expression, Willow made an 'oops!' face, but she realized her faux pas too late. The cat was now out of the bag.

Dawn looked up at her sister, shocked. "Wait…Buffy, you and Angel broke up? Why didn't you say anything?"

A silently horrified Buffy didn't answer, only closing her mouth tightly and looking away, her face flushed, mortified that this had come up in public.

A collective groan went through the members of The Scoobies and Team Angel.

"Again?" Cordelia asked, dismayed. She had really hoped that Angel and Buffy would have finally been on the same page, on the right track this time, but it looked like it was too good to be true, after all. She silently realized to her chagrin that Angel's all-consuming guilt and self-punishment complex probably had to do with this. Angel, I love you, but God, are you an idiot sometimes.

Oz sighed, disheartened. He, too, had been rooting for Angel and Buffy to finally get together. "That's not good."

An irritated Xander rubbed his hand down the one good side of his face. "Man, I knew this would happen!" he groaned. "Every time Tropical Storm Angel rolls into town, he leaves disaster in his wake."

"Whoa, back up, Harris," Cordelia snapped, her steadfast loyalty not willing to let that accusation against Angel stand despite her own doubts. "How do we know it's all Angel's fault? No offense, I'm all aboard the Friendship Express with Buffy these days, and I know Angel has his flaws, believe me, but everyone knows when she gets her temper fired up, she turns all Hurricane Buffy, so maybe—"

"Wait a minute, Cordelia, so you're saying it's her fault?" Xander asked, offended.

"That's not what I'm saying, dummy!" Cordelia replied defensively, the two hearts of their respective groups clashing. And for more than just one reason…

"Well, that explains it," an unimpressed Anya muttered aloud. "Her old boyfriend dumps her again and bails, some mysterious 'Villain of the Week'-type psycho working for The First blows into town calling her out, we send the guy she used to bang on the side away on a dangerous mission…no wonder she's been making so many bad decisions. This is personal for her now."

"Hey, lay off, you guys!" Faith replied defensively to both Xander, the Seer and the former Vengeance demon. As angry as she was with Buffy, Faith sympathized with giving her some privacy—especially given Faith's own romantic pitfalls with Spike lately—and she was not happy with Xander's dig at Angel, a man who had become closer to her than even her own family. "We don't know the whole score here, and it's none of your damned business what happened between Angel and B."

"But…I thought they just got back together," Fred asked, confused. She looked at Gunn. "Right?"

"Nuh-uh, best we stay out of this one, Fred," Gunn cautioned. "English and Cordy told me about Angel and Buffy, they've got this whole 'Romeo and Juliet' cursed love thang. Old history, you don't wanna get in the middle of that."

"She's right, Honeybunches," Lorne said sympathetically, giving Buffy an understanding glance. "I saw her plastered all over ol' Angelcake's noggin when Caritas wasn't a pile of July 4 barbeque charcoal mess. Him and Buffycups here have the kind of complicated love saga that makes Rose and Jack look like Statler and Waldorf. Extra heavy on the pain sauce. Best to leave it alone."

"Great, just what we need," Rona groused, annoyed. "Not a real plan to stay alive. No, instead, let's get more of this 'Days of Our Lives' crap with our so-called leader and another vampire."

"It's getting exhausting to keep up with at this point," Kennedy agreed, giving an icy glance at Buffy.

As she stood there watching the others pry in and gossip openly about her tattered relationship with Angel, Buffy was sure she was resembling a tomato with how red her face was getting. Yet another humiliation aired out in front of everyone, this time a private matter involving her heart.

"What is this, 'TMZ the Supernatural Edition'? We are not discussing my personal life!" Buffy snapped hotly, ending the chatter about her love life. She took a much-needed breath. "Look…what happened between Angel and I is private, okay? I didn't say anything because it's nobody's business but mine and his." She turned to Anya, scowling. "And for the record? I broke up with him. And I'm not making this personal. This plan has nothing to do with Angel."

Then she turned to Willow, giving her a hurt and angered look. "And how dare you insinuate that! After everything we've been through, I can't believe that you think you can't trust my judgment on something I've done better than anyone else for years!"

"I'm afraid she's not the only one", Wesley sighed heavily.

"Oh, come on!", Buffy exclaimed, exasperated. "Not you guys, too." Her eyes looked at Wesley, Gunn, Fred, Lorne and Cordelia. She was having enough trouble holding off her own people, but she had hoped that Angel's crew would side with her, or at the very least, stay out of this.

"We have just as much stake in this as you, Buffy", Wesley pointed out. "Need I remind you that we lost almost a third of our forces the last time we stormed the vineyard?"

"No, you needn't remind me", Buffy retorted, tartly. "I was there."

"Yes. You were", Wesley replied, his eyes boring into her. "So, you must know that going in there without a reason or a plan is nothing short of suicide."

"This is the plan", Buffy replied, fuming. "The power is there, we go in, we take it away. End of discussion."

"I beg to differ, the discussion is just beginning", Wesley frostily countered. "Do you even know what this power is? What you're even looking for?"

Buffy faltered. "Well…not exac—"

Wesley pounced, barely giving her time to think. "Then have you found a weakness in Caleb?"

"Uh...well, I—", she backpedaled, surprised by the quick verbal assault coming her way.

"Do you even know anything more about Caleb? Forget the biographical info we obtained. Something practical we can use in battle. Strengths, flaws, where he's drawing his power, if he's even human at all?"

"N-No, but that's not—"

"Then how could you even think of leading us back into the same place where we were nearly massacred?", Wesley demanded, his eyes condescending like he was a schoolteacher reprimanding a student for their shoddy homework. His arms folded across his chest in such a manner that, for a brief moment, Buffy could see a slight hint of the frosty, stuffy, bookish Englishman she once knew him to be.

Buffy was furious. At Wesley, at her friends, at her inability to explain this mystical gut feeling that only she could understand as the reason why they needed to go back to the vineyard.

At how everything was falling apart around her and she couldn't do a damn thing about it. "Because the answers are there!" she insisted, her tone hot and urgent.

"Is that right?", Gunn said, scowling. "Because right now, we ain't got nothin' but questions."

"We don't have time for this!", Buffy snapped, growing more impatient and angry by the moment.

"Yeah? Well, too bad, because you're about to make time!" A seething Gunn took a few steps toward the smaller Buffy, let his imposingly large figure loom for a moment, even though he knew that it would do nothing to intimidate her, before he spoke.

"I had a really long talk with Rondell a few days ago. I practically had to beg him not to pull his crew out of here. We lost five of my…" Gunn paused, briefly, before correcting himself. "Five of his people. The ones who aren't dead either can barely stand or want to go back runnin' to L.A. Why? Because they're pissed at me. Why? Because they trusted me, and I trusted you to make the right decisions, not lead them into a damn death trap!"

Buffy's guilt was fighting a war with her anger. A war she was losing. "I…Gunn, I had no idea—"

"Exactly", Gunn spat. As much as he liked Buffy, there was no way in hell he was about to let her lead them back into that hellhole again with the ones he loved in tow. Not without a real plan. Maybe not even with one. "You had no idea. I told you, everyone told you that the vineyard was a bad idea, Buffy, but you didn't listen. Some no-name Black Hat in a preacher's collar shows up out of the blue and starts sending you bloody love notes, and you just had to bust up in there like John Wayne, and for what? To prove a point? Now six soldiers, dozens of these girls we're supposed to protect and an innocent kid are just a headstone and a memory!"

Seeing how tense things were getting, Fred tried to smooth things over. "Charles, you've made your point, stop…"

But the seasoned vampire hunter was nowhere near finished. He folded his arms, his eyes blazing with accusation. "You know, it seems to me, from what I've seen and heard, you like making the big decisions. You like having the big brass ring. And that'd be fine…if everyone had the superhuman powers you got. But not everyone here is a Slayer or a Souled Vamp or a bad ass Wicca or any of that. Yeah, we're fighters. We're soldiers. All of us. But we ain't like you. You make a mistake? Fine, you've got the powers, the skills, the experience, so you can still get out of there, live to fight another day. But if we make the same mistake? We're not soldiers anymore…we're just dead."

Biting her lower lip to keep it from quivering, Buffy said nothing, just staring at Gunn with betrayed hurt and anger. Yet part of her couldn't help whisper…What if he's right?

Oz sighed, regretfully. "Like I said, Buffy, we're with you. We want to be with you. But Caleb was…he was too much."

Buffy stared at her old friend Oz with surprised and hurt eyes, yet the werewolf continued.

"Last time, we almost died," he explained, his somber blue eyes meeting Buffy's hurt hazel-green orbs. "If we go back, and we don't have a plan? Next time, he might finish the job. Can't win a war if we're too dead to fight it."

"Buffy", Cordelia interjected, her voice surprisingly gentle (at least from Buffy's memory). "It's…it's not that we don't have faith in you—"

Buffy let out a bitter laugh. "Really, Cordelia? Because this whole thing is showing you guys are just so chalk full of trust, you know?"

"But this isn't about you!", Cordelia said, her voice suddenly razor sharp. "No one can doubt what you can do; no one's questioning your abilities…but your decisions? That's another story—look at what's happening around you! We were all nearly killed the last time we stormed the vineyard and ran into Father Time-To-Kill-You-All and his Psycho Squad of America. It was a bad idea, and we shouldn't have gone in there, but we did, and look what happened! Dozens of people are dead, lots more are hurt, Faith nearly died there, we're losing support of some of our only allies, and…and just look at Xander's eye!"

As she spotted Xander unconsciously flinch at the mention of his missing left eye, Buffy had to stifle her urge to wince. She would never forget the sound of his screaming, the blood pouring quickly and hot down his face…

Pushing the pain of that memory down into a dark corner of her heart, Buffy tried shakily to regain control of the situation…which she silently admitted was a losing battle.

"I don't recall any of you complaining about the way we did things when we were winning," she said, accusingly.

Giles replied patiently, but firmly. "Buffy, the rules have changed. And I'm not sure doing things the old way will help you here."

Buffy scowled at what he was implying. "The 'old' way. You mean by leading," she implied accusingly.

Willow shook her head, trying to calm Buffy down. "No, that's not it at all, it's just—!"

"No, Willow, I…" Buffy looked around desperately at her allies. She realized that the wrong word or action was just going to lose them. So she tried to switch tactics. To reason with them. To explain why they needed to act now. "Look, guys, I wish this could be a democracy. I really do. Democracies don't win battles. Or wars."

She noticed Xander looking away, nonplussed by that comment, but Buffy ignored the insecurity gnawing at her and pressed on. "And make no mistake, we're at war here. Not just for our lives, not just for the Slayer line, but for all of existence. Every life out there. That's what The First wants to destroy. Everything. There is too much at stake right now. It's a hard truth, but there has to be a single voice. You need someone to issue orders and be reckless sometimes and not take your feelings into account. You need someone to lead you."

"And it's automatically you." Anya gave Buffy a scornful look. "You really do think you're better than us."

Buffy was floored. "What? No, I—"

But the former Vengeance Demon wasn't having it. "Yes. You do. Of course you do. That's why it's your voice leading us."

Hurt, Buffy tried to protest. "Look—"

Anya wouldn't allow Buffy to recover, the formerly ancient demon pressing her verbal assault. "But we don't know. We'll never know. We don't know if you're actually better. I mean, you came into the world with certain advantages, sure. I mean, that's the legacy."

With some guilt, Buffy remembered what she had told her old classmate-turned-vampire Holden Webster months ago in the graveyard. How her being The Slayer—and bearing all the awesome powers and the burden of them and enduring the tragedies that she had gone through because of this Calling which she never asked for or wanted or felt like she even deserved—had made her feel superior to her friends and family, at times. Better than them. Which in turn had made her feel guilty, like she was not worthy of their love because she felt like, deep down, she in fact was better than them.

And you are, The Slayer in her whispered to her, insistently. You are better than them. You always were. They live because of you. They can live their ignorant little lives because of your sacrifices, your blood, your heart, your sweat, your tears. And these pathetic creatures have the gall to judge you? How dare they! They eat at the table that you set. They should be on their knees worshipping you! Thanking you! We. Don't. NEED. Them.

SHUT. UP! Buffy felt herself yell internally at that insistent dark voice in her head, pushing it all the way down.

Pulled back into real time, Buffy was at a loss for words. "I—"

"But you didn't earn it", Anya accused. She had grown weary of taking orders from a girl who wasn't really her friend to begin with. A girl that, from what she saw and heard, never thought twice about killing her months ago during her Vengeance Demon rampage in Sunnydale. "You didn't work for it. You've never had anybody come up to you and say, 'You deserve these things more than anyone else'. They were just handed to you. So that doesn't make you better than us. It makes you luckier than us."

Not willing to take that one, and feeling like she had been pushed far enough, Buffy scowled at Anya.

"Yes, Anya, that's me, I'm Lucky Gal," Buffy snapped sarcastically. "So lucky that these awesome 'advantages' you talk about? Got me killed twice and forced me to kill my boyfriend once. I had to send him to hell. With my own bare hands. Do you have any idea what that's like? To have to—"

She stopped for a moment, the gaping maw of Acathla flashing before her eyes, the look of hurt and fear in Angel's eyes as he held out his hand to her, as if he was begging her to save him from the pits of Hell that were swallowing him, claiming his soul while she could only watch with tears in her eyes as he faced a fate worse than death because of her…

Buffy swallowed hard, blinking back the emotion behind her eyes at that memory as she returned her gaze to Anya. "You really think I wanted any of that? Any of this? I didn't. I would love to be at Northwestern University studying something, maybe hanging out in Chicago on the weekend, or holding a real job or being literally anywhere else doing anything else like normal people my age. But life had other plans for me and didn't bother to ask me what I wanted, so I'm just making the best of the crappy hand that I got dealt. So I don't get to do all those neat normal things, instead, I have to risk my life again and again to lead an army that I never asked for, that I have to train from scratch, against a bunch of monsters looking to destroy the world. And everything else. Whether I like it or not, I have a job to do. Isn't that why you all yanked me out of the grave while I was in Heaven? To make things right, to lead you because you needed my help?"

The frustrated blonde Slayer folded her arms as she narrowed her eyes at Anya. "And remind me again, Anya…what is it that you do around here, exactly? Because the last I checked, you're barely our receptionist. The one time you actually had any real power, you used it to turn frat kids into demon spider-chow and bad ex-es into giant worms. Did D'Hoffryn make you earn that power, or did he just hand that to you, Anyanka?"

"Hey…watch it," Xander said warningly to Buffy.

Angrily, Buffy threw Xander a challenging glare, the two old friends trading heated stares.

At that defense, despite the situation, Cordelia gave Xander a frosty stare. "Yeah, Buffy, don't say mean things about Xander's new 'girlfriend!'," the Seer said snidely, icily.

Off that remark, a surprised Xander gave Cordelia a stunned, pained glance, which Cordelia scowled at and then looked away from, hurt.

It was then that Xander realized in dismay that Cordelia knew. She knew what happened last night between him and Anya. Oh, God…oh, no, what did I do?

Under normal circumstances, Anya would have delighted in that little triumph over her romantic rival for Xander's affections…even if Xander did leave the apartment abruptly before she had woken up and they hadn't had the chance to discuss what happened between them yet, she thought with no small amount of hurt…

…but the former Vengeance Demon was far too angry and too busy focusing her ire on Buffy.

"You know what, Buffy? You're right," Anya replied acidly, her cheeks flushed by Buffy's harsh assessment of her. "I didn't earn my power, either. And I'm not much of a leader myself. But you know what I do have after about nearly a dozen centuries under my belt? Wisdom. And that's exactly my point. Power doesn't make you a great leader. Yeah, you're the Slayer. You're Power Galore, you're Power Girl, got it. But the wisdom part? That you need a lot of work on. There's nothing wise about the decisions that you've been making lately. Running off half-cocked to fight Caleb? Leading us into an ambush? Leaving Faith behind, driving Connor away? Keeping secrets from us? That's not wisdom. Let's call it what it was—stupidity. Yes, we did bring you back. We panicked, we were in over our heads without you. And in doing that? We set all of this in motion. Beljoxa's Eye was right. We pointed out the flaws in the Slayer line, and The First pounced on it. It's our fault. So, given everything that's happened? Maybe we're the ones who made a mistake. Maybe we should have just let you stay dead!"

"Anya, quiet!" Giles scolded her angrily. Anya had told him those same words once before, when Beljoxa's Eye revealed to them why The First had been attacking the Potentials weeks ago. That they should have let Buffy stay dead, that maybe the Slayer line could have been protected without resurrecting her. But Giles refused to believe that suggestion then, as he did now.

At his stern reprimand, a frowning Anya defensively folded her arms across her chest. At the ex-Vengeance Demon's cold words, Cordelia threw her a disgusted glance, which Anya promptly responded with a scowl at the Seer.

Stung by Anya's icy words yet determined not to falter, Buffy bravely held her head up, trying to salvage a little face, blinking hard to fight the stinging behind the back of her eyes.

"I've gotten us this far," Buffy said quietly, trying not to focus on how much those words hurt.

Xander cocked his head and locked his only eye left with hers as he quietly spoke. "But not without a price."

Buffy looked wounded at his not-so-subtle accusation. "Xander—"

"Buffy, we follow you without question," Xander said quietly. "Even when you have no idea what you're doing. Even when you get mad at us for not working hard enough at a plan which doesn't exist, because you don't know what you're doing. We keep following you, even then."

He paused, looking down as he absently rubbed the gauze on his destroyed eye. "And we keep paying the price."

Flushed with guilt, Buffy's voice grew uncharacteristically quiet, her heart hurting at what her other best friend had just told her. Laying the blame for what happened to him at her feet. "Xander…I've paid the price, too."

At that, Xander looked up at Buffy, his face softening for just a moment in understanding. "I…I know that. Really, I do. And we're all grateful. We are. But after what happened, with Caleb, and…everything…"

For a moment, a wave of fear washed over his face at the mad preacher's name, as if he was speaking of The Boogeyman. "I…look, I'm trying to see your point here, Buff..." Xander shook his head, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "…but I guess it must be a little bit to my left...'cause I just don't."

Buffy felt everything spinning out of control, and she desperately tried to put her hands on the steering wheel again.

"Look, I'm-I'm willing to talk strategy, okay?" she relented, but only slightly. "I'll-I'll hear suggestions on how to break this down, iron out the details, all of it…but this is the plan. We have to be together on this or we will fail again."

Giles finally had enough. "We're clearly demonstrating that we're not together on this! How high does the price have to go before you start saying your way isn't right?"

Buffy faltered, but still tried to press on. "Look, I…I'm telling you, I still think attacking Caleb's power base could end this—"

Giles cut her off. "Yes. You. Think. But when you act alone, without consulting anyone—"

Then Buffy interjected, deciding she didn't like what her Watcher was insinuating considering his own past history. "Is that really something you want to get into?"

She folded her arm, staring at Giles in accusation. "'Cause we can talk about what you did when you tried to have Robin kill Spike." She threw out one last barb. "Or how about…what happened to Ben."

Giles pressed his lips together tightly.

More than a year ago shortly after she came back to life, Spike had told Buffy that he had found out about what really happened to Ben Wilkinson, the young Sunnydale Memorial intern who she briefly had a crush on before she realized he was really the human guise of her hated enemy, the insane hell goddess Glory. How Giles had smothered him to death during the final battle with Glory, after Buffy had beaten the hell goddess so badly she had to change her form to Ben to try and tug at the Slayer's heart to save herself. Buffy had spared Ben because she refused to take a human life in cold blood, but warned him to leave town for good and to tell Glory that neither she nor him should ever come near her or her family again. Yet knowing that Glory was too dangerous to live and would eventually return seeking revenge on Buffy and the world for ruining her reality-endangering plan to come back to her hell dimension, Giles decided in that moment to do what had to be done—murder a bleeding, struggling Ben, a 25-year-old young man, smothering Ben with his bare hands until the lack of oxygen caused the brilliant young medical student's brain to fatally shut down.

In truth, Buffy didn't give a damn about Ben. After Dawn had told her last year about how Ben sold her out to Glory and even tried to kill her, Buffy decided that Ben was a scumbag in the end and that she didn't care if he was dead. What she did care about, however, was Giles putting a stain on his own soul for her sake. And disregarding Buffy's feelings about killing humans. She had long taken the stance that she didn't kill people out of revenge or anger. With her power, she knew she had to be better than that.

The other Scoobies looked at Giles in confusion, none of them aware of what Giles did. He had only told them that Ben had died in the final battle with Glory, that the Hell Goddess wouldn't come and bother any of them ever again. But they all realized now that Giles had never shared the details of how he knew that…

As much as killing Ben haunted Giles, he slept easier knowing he did it so that Buffy wouldn't have to. So that she could be safe. That was what a good Watcher did, after all, he rationalized. Protect the Slayer. Guide her. Help make the tough choices when she could not.

Like now, he grimly realized.

Swallowing hard, Giles then took off his glasses.

And for a moment, Buffy felt a slight chill run up her spine.

The look in his eyes was not the warm, fatherly glance of the Watcher who had taken care of her for years.

It was something darker. More serious. More dangerous.

More Ripper.

"If I acted rashly, it was to protect you." He then decided to hit an unprepared Buffy where it hurt. "Were you trying to protect Annabelle? Or Chloe?"

Buffy fought not to flinch at the names of those young Potentials she failed to protect. Her voice was quiet, but had a warning tone. "Giles, that's enough."

Giles would do no such thing. He doubled down, got more intense, staring at his Slayer in accusation. "Or Matthew? Or Anna? Or Xander? Or Connor, when he ran off? You almost added Dawn to that list. And Molly. And it goes even further back than that, doesn't it? Kendra?"

Each name was like a punch to her gut, a sledgehammer blow to her heart. Kendra's name in particular felt like a knife in her heart, knowing she had lost her new friend, a fellow Slayer, someone who helped her understand her power, because Buffy couldn't help her when she needed it against Drusilla.

She closed her eyes for a moment, pleading quietly. "Giles, please…"

Yet Giles was seething, ripping open her old wounds until they were bleeding once again. "You act alone, and people get hurt, right?" His voice slightly cracked with emotion. "People like Jenny…"

She opened her eyes at him in shock. That one hurt.

It always would. Buffy would never stop blaming herself for Jenny Calendar's death, for not being strong enough to stop Angelus when she had the chance. But to think that Giles would blame her for what happened to Jenny…

Buffy could barely take it, painfully grounding out her next words. "Giles, stop it…"

Yet Giles kept going, his voice hot, harsh and angry as he pushed her most painful button. "Even Angel. You killed the man you loved because you acted alone without thinking—!"

All at once, Buffy could see Angel's helpless look, watching him with a sword in his chest that she had stabbed him with, his eyes full of love and confusion and pain…

Calling out her name desperately as he was swallowed into Hell because of her…

Because of the terrible things he had done through no fault of his own, because she unwittingly unleashed the monster chained within him through an innocent act of love…

The realization washing over her that she had condemned a hero, a good man, the man she loved, to the most terrible fate imaginable and it was all her fault

Feeling the tears burning the back of her eyes, an infuriated Buffy finally snapped. "Goddamn you, STOP IT!"

Enraged and hurting and full of guilt from the cuts of old wounds reopened again so cruelly at her, Buffy angrily swept a vase, an old African one from Joyce's gallery that her mother was particularly fond of, off the end table.

Ka-CRACK!

It smashed to the floor in dozens of pieces. Like her heart was starting to feel like. She huffed and puffed angrily, her emotions going haywire, everything feeling so hot and so fast that she almost felt like she would vomit or faint from the anger she felt inside.

Like she wanted to hurt something. Like she wanted to murder someone…

In a long, silent pause, Giles and Buffy glared at each other, and the entire house went silent.

So silent one could hear a pin drop.

No one moved.

No one dared to even breathe.

Putting his glasses back on, Giles then dropped his angry tone, his voice now more calm. Gentler. Fatherly, even.

Trying to get Buffy to see what her shortcomings were, he softly spoke to her like a patient dad explaining to his child why adding two plus two did not equal five. "Do you see? You are not in the best place you have ever been."

He gave her a concerned, yet firm look. A look not unlike the ones Joyce used to give her whenever her high school grades would slip. "You're too raw, Buffy. You need to take a break."

Buffy's face flushed red, angry and embarrassed.

As she watched that uncomfortable, intimate teaching moment, Faith flashed back to a moment of her own that mirrored this situation weeks ago. When Wesley had been trying to press her to become more aggressive to beat Angelus. Wesley accused her of being too soft as they were hunting the master vampire, trying to get Angel back.

It was true, Faith silently admitted. She had held back, not wanting to kill or hurt her only real friend in the world. And that hesitation would have gotten her killed when up against the most ruthless, evil vampire that ever lived who just happened to be wearing her friend's face. It was then that Wesley had pushed all her old buttons, reminding her of how vicious she used to be, how twisted, how that rot and sickness that once infected her whole being had driven everyone she cared about away from her, and drove the Watcher's Council to try and kill her.

No one trusts you, Faith. You're a rabid dog who should've been put down years ago!

His harsh words did trigger that edge in her, which was what Wesley intended all along. Those words awoke that warrior's fire inside of her that she needed to beat Angelus later, which saved Angel's soul.

See? That wasn't so hard, was it? It's what you'll need to beat him...You have to be willing to take it all the way, Faith.

Watching how Giles was still trying to work with Buffy, guide her, albeit in a harsh way this time around, Faith's eyes ticked to Wesley.

The ex-Watcher had caught her gaze, a hint of understanding in them as he likely had been thinking about the same thing.

And Faith couldn't help but wonder. Buffy and Giles. The dynamic duo. He was more of a father to her than my sorry-ass dad was to me. Even when he's being a prick about it, he's always there for her. Guiding her. And she lets him. Trusts him.

The dark-haired Slayer kept looking at Wesley, pondering him. Could I find that kind of trust in…?

Her thoughts were interrupted as she saw Buffy speak again in real time.

Buffy refused to relent. She couldn't. Not with so much at stake. If I don't, who will? "No. I…I can't. Giles, I can't just take a break. You see what's happening out there. It's…it's all on me. I am still responsible for this group. I'm still in charge here."

Rona looked up, her gaze cold. "Yeah, and why is that, exactly?"

Buffy stiffened before delivering the answer, the reason, the grounds, the raison d'être for every moment in her life since she was 15 years old. "Because I'm The Slayer."

Rona's eyes subtly ticked to Kennedy, who nodded, just as she turned to the other corner of the room…where the only other person who could make such a claim stood. "And isn't Faith a Slayer, too?

Faith couldn't have been more caught off guard if she were sent into a vamp's nest blindfolded with her hands tied behind her back. "Ka-what? Whoa, whoa, whoa. Sooo not what I meant! I'm not 'In-Charge Chick'. I think 'B' here needs to just...chill out for a little bit, take a siesta or something. But…I'm not…I'm not the one you want."

But they all kept looking at her…and their eyes told a very different story.

Kennedy saw the opportunity unfold before her eyes. Finally, she had the opening she needed to get that troublesome Buffy out of the picture for good. "Maybe we need a vote... to see who wants Faith to have a turn in charge."

Buffy stood rigidly, feeling a wave of anger wash over her. Her next word was a quiet, but firm one. "No."

Kennedy smirked, cruelly. "No, what?"

"No." Buffy repeated firmly, her voice getting a bit sarcastic as she felt more and more defensive by the second at this mutiny. "You don't get to vote until I've had my chance to pal around, you know…get everybody drunk? See, I didn't get this was a popularity contest. I should have equal time to bake them cookies, braid their hair—"

"Learn their names?" Faith scoffed. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Buffy really didn't get it.

The bonding she'd been doing with the Potentials, training with Dawn and their friends, all of it…none of it had anything to do with Buffy. Or even Faith for that matter. She wasn't trying to undermine the elder Slayer's authority. Faith was just trying to lighten things up, get the troops loose, raise morale, or whatever, not to impose her way on anything. And she was doing it despite all the trauma she had undergone lately just by showing up and deciding to throw in with the White Hats.

The way Faith saw it, she came to help in whatever way she could, she suffered more than any of them had, save maybe Xander, these last few days, because for once, she wanted to try to live her life right…to do right, no matter the cost. But it still wasn't enough for Buffy. Deep down, she was starting to wonder if it would ever be enough for Buffy.

Buffy shot her a venomous look, before laughing bitterly. "You're just lovin' this, aren't you?"

Faith felt the heat of her anger simmering through her slinky top. Her voice was low and cold. "You have no idea what I'm feeling."

As if she didn't hear her, Buffy continued on, her voice practically a growl. "Gee, where have I seen this movie before? You just come in here, take everything that I have... You did it before. Did you tell them that? Did you tell them how you used to kill people for fun? Or when you helped a psycho politician try to turn into a giant demon snake that wanted to eat the entire town? Or how about all the times you nearly killed me? And Angel? And my friends and family? Hey, you guys think that's nifty?"

"Buffy, that's enough!", snapped Giles. He had started to grow weary of Buffy's attitude. He loved her as he would his own daughter, but love couldn't bring back the dead friends they lost at the vineyard. And it would do nothing to prevent the deaths of more, should they go ahead with his Slayer's ill-conceived plan.

Not one to let anyone else fight her battles, a livid Faith shot back at Buffy with both barrels.

"You got some pair on you, huh, B? After everything that happened over the last few days, after everything that…that happened to me…" Faith shook off the memories of the torture she had endured, the sick smile on Caleb and Drusilla's faces as they did it and pressed on. "I didn't think I had to justify anything anymore with you. That maybe I earned your trust, maybe even a little of your respect."

Faith chuckled bitterly. "Boy, was I stupid. I didn't come here to take anything away from you, but I'm not gonna be your little lapdog, either. I came here to beat the bad guys, to save the world, to do right, however it works. I don't know if I can lead, I don't even think I want to! But the real question is, if the right person was here who could lead...can you follow?"

The tense silence echoed around the room as both Slayers traded heated, resentful glares with one another.

"So...we vote," Robin grimly said, breaking the silence.

Buffy looked around, pleadingly. "Wait. Guys—"

Buffy couldn't let this happen. She couldn't. She was losing them more and more by the minute.

"Listen. You don't wanna do this," she pleaded.

Then she looked to Willow and Xander and Dawn, Oz and Giles, her family. To Cordelia, Gunn, Wesley, Lorne and Fred, her friends. Urged them, all but begged them to help her. To support her. To believe in her, like they always have. "Guys, tell them. Tell them this is a mistake."

But she was met by total silence.

Shocked, Buffy looked to the cavalry, and realized all too late that they weren't coming to her rescue. Not this time. "...guys?"

Buffy searched their faces for sympathy, for help.

But she found none left to give.

Willow and Xander did not answer, the Witch looking away while the Loyal looked down. Dawn, who looked like she was about to burst into tears at any moment, gave Buffy a sad look. In a rare show of emotion, Oz's face cracked, feeling truly sorry for his friend, yet he looked away, too. Anya merely crossed her arms and stared back witheringly with pursed lips; Giles, the man who was more like a father to her than her real father was, also simply looked away.

Cordelia's eyes were filled with apology, yet she, too, remained silent. Gunn looked like he hated this, but stood silently, arms folded. Feeling all kinds of guilty, Fred sadly looked down, averting her gaze from Buffy. Lorne gave the blonde Slayer an earnest, pitying glance, shaking his green, horned head.

Buffy couldn't believe it. She couldn't. Oh, God…please…

With a heavy sigh, a somber Wesley stepped forward and gave voice to the motion. "All those in favor of Faith leading, raise your hands."

The hands started to raise slowly at first, then more popped up, and still more, until every hand in the room was raised in the air.

Unanimously.

Faith looked around in shock.

This was the last thing she wanted. Or needed. She didn't understand. She was a fighter, a warrior, a Slayer to the core, sure…but a leader? As in 'Oh, Captain, my Captain' and 'Yes, Ma'am'?

She had never led anything in her life. All she had ever done was mess up, hurt people, and try to make up for it afterwards, Faith recalled in regret…yet they're trusting me? Why? I…I can't…this is a mistake, it has to be. Damn it all, Angel, why aren't you back yet? You're better at this leading shit than I could ever be. I could really use your help right now…

"No." Faith said quietly, shaking her head as the others watched her in surprise, the normally uber-confident Boston beauty now suddenly seeming apprehensive, nervous, looking like she wanted to run for a moment. "No, look, guys, you don't want me. I-I-I'm not a leader. I'm not! I'm impatient, I'm impulsive, I-I-I'm damaged, I'm—"

"You're ready," Wesley said, giving her a look of acknowledgement. "I've watched you. For weeks. You've come a long way. You've proved your valor. Your time has come, Faith."

He looked at her sincerely. "We need you."

More than a little scared and feeling overwhelmed with the trust he and they were putting in her, Faith gave an uncertain stare towards her old Watcher before turning to a stung and hurting Buffy, then to the others.

Many of whom were looking at Faith like they needed her. Like…

like I've been Chosen, she realized in awe.

It was like a bad dream for Buffy. She kept digging her nails into her palms, expecting to wake up any minute now.

But it wasn't happening.

This was real.

Her own friends…her family…they had all turned their backs on her.

And they picked Faith.

Faith.

They actually picked the Slayer who once tried to kill them all over the Slayer who had protected them all for years.

Feeling the stinging of tears behind her eyes, Buffy struggled to find the words, completely in a daze of shock and denial and hurt. "I don't... this isn't happening." It can't be…this can't be happening…can it?

"Buffy." Willow's green, glassy eyes grew big, filled with emotion and concern. "You need to rest."

The little red-haired Witch looked at Xander, not sure if she could finish this. At her hesitation, Xander merely nodded to her.

Willow sucked in a big gulp of air, barely able to say it, but forcing herself to say the ugly truth that nobody else would. "So maybe we should let someone else take the wheel until you do."

Feeling like his first name should be Judas instead, Xander nonetheless sighed, giving Buffy an apologetic look. "I mean, there's two Slayers, right? Maybe it's finally time to make that work to our advantage. Maybe it's not such a terrible idea. Letting Faith handle things. Letting her be the Slayer."

Cordelia bit her lip, feeling awful for Buffy. "It's too much, Buffy. Maybe even for you," she said softly, apologetically. "And without Angel here…maybe you need to take a break. Let Faith and us take it from here for a while."

Oz swallowed, a rare show of emotion for him as he looked at Buffy. "You can't keep this up, Buffy."

Buffy's voice was soft, hurt as she saw the verdicts roll in one by one from her oldest friends. It was like some kind of nightmare…"No…I…I can't believe…I can't watch you just throw away everything that—"

She pleadingly looked to Willow for support, then at Xander, and then at Dawn, then Cordelia and Oz and Gunn and Fred. Even to Lorne. But they all looked away, unable to bring themselves to meet her wounded glances.

Wesley sighed, his glance at her a rare show of apology out of respect, but he remained firm. "Buffy…Willow and Giles are right. You're exhausted. If you keep going at your current pace…you'll die. You have to stop."

Gunn closed his eyes, feeling like a snake for doing this to his new friend. But he had other friends he had to think about, too. Taking a deep breath, he opened them and gave Buffy an apologetic look, begging her silently to understand them. "You're hurting, Buff. You can't go on like this."

Lorne shook his head at Buffy, his red eyes filled with sympathy and concern as he saw Buffy's aura grow dim, splotched with pain everywhere. And hurt. And exhaustion. "They're right, Lemon Drop," the Pylean demon said soothingly. "It's all over your aura. You're 31 Flavors of Hurting right now. Maybe you need to rest, just for a bit. Let Faith take care of things for a while."

Fred gave Buffy the saddest look, like she was about to tell her that her puppy just died. "We're just trying to help you, Buffy. They're right. You can't do this. Not the way you are."

You.

Can't.

Do.

This.

The words echoed around in Buffy's brain. Each one smashing her heart like a sledgehammer.

They don't think I can do this. They think I can't protect them. They think I can't win. My friends…don't think I can win…

Her pride torn to shreds, her self-esteem vanishing, her emotions overwhelming her, a stunned and hurt Buffy somehow held her head up high, tried to ignore the painful burn of betrayal spreading through her chest, burning her heart to ashes.

"I…I know I'm right about this," Buffy quietly insisted in a low, strangled voice. "I…I just need a little fai— "

She stopped herself when she realized the irony of that last word.

The reeling and emotionally wounded blonde Slayer shook her head and tried to muster up something— rage, betrayal, fear— anything to propel her out of the shock of what was happening.

"Guys, I…" Buffy quietly pleaded, her voice almost a weak, strangled sound. "I know things have been rough lately, but I…but we have a chance to end this. All of us. I…I can't stay here and watch her lead you into some disaster."

It was then that Dawn, who had been watching silently, had slowly stood up, walked up to Buffy, and tenderly kissed her on the cheek.

At her sister's surprised glance, Dawn's eyes filled with unspilled tears. She hated to do this, didn't want to do this. But Dawn had realized that the others were right. She had seen it with her own eyes. Caleb was way too powerful to face again in the same way they tried before.

Brave, sweet little Matthew had died that way. Even with Dawn's new powers, she had almost died that way; next time, Dawn realized, she just might.

Or worse…it could be Buffy.

Or Willow. Or Xander. Or Faith. Or Molly. Or Amanda. Or Vi. Or someone else she cared about. The First and Caleb and their allies were just so powerful. And without Angel, without Spike…without Connor, a part of Dawn thought in heartache…they didn't have much of a chance. As much as she loved Buffy, Dawn couldn't let her go through with this plan. She knew her sister too well. She would be spending too much time trying to protect what was left of her forces, leaving her wide open for Caleb to finish the job he started.

Buffy would die if they went through with this plan.

And Dawn couldn't…wouldn't…bury her sister again. That would be too much, even for her.

So she looked her big sister in the eye and said quietly, brokenly, "Then you can't stay here."

The room went quiet in stunned silence. Buffy's eyes went wide, hurt and shock and betrayal radiating from them. It was the final betrayal.

Buffy felt like she couldn't breathe for a moment. Oh, my God…

A shocked Cordelia's eyes went wide. "Wait, what?" The Seer turned disbelieving eyes to Dawn. "Wait…no! No, Dawnie, you can't! She's…she's your sister, you can't just—!"

"Cordy, please," the youngest Summers girl pleaded quietly, tears pooling in her eyes. "This is…this is hard enough. Please, just let me do this."

Cordelia wanted to say something else, anything else, but her voice found itself silent. This was a family moment between the Summers clan, and as much as she hated this, Cordelia realized she had to stay out of it.

Dawn turned glassy eyes back to her stunned, wide-eyed and heartbroken sister.

"Buffy, you're my sister. I love you…" Dawn said in a tone barely above a whisper, her eyes spooling with unspilled tears, "...but you were right. We have to be together on this. And if you can't see what we're trying to say…then you can't be a part of it. I…I lost friends in that place. I can't lose anyone else. And…I don't think you can see that. I don't think... I don't think you can face this at all. Not like this. I'm worried about you. You're not thinking straight. Wesley's right. If you keep going like this…you'll die, Buffy. And I can't…"

She swallowed the golfball-sized lump in her throat, continuing. "I won't bury my sister again. I can't go through that again, not ever. So…you have to sit this one out."

Devastated, Buffy could only blink her watering eyes in disbelief at her baby sister, watching in frozen shock as the girl she once died to save now turned her back on her.

"And if you can't do that, then I need you…to leave." Dawn's eyes grew glassy with brimming tears. "I'm sorry…but this is my house, too. Faith is in charge now. Either you let Faith handle things…or you have to leave." Please sit this one out, Buffy. I can't watch you die again. Please just let someone else be the hero for a change. Please stop risking your life for us. Please don't make me do this. Please…

Blinking back hard to keep the salty emotion from spilling out of her eyes, Buffy swallowed hard. She heard her little sister's ultimatum. Loud and clear.

But the Slayer's heart just couldn't do it.

Buffy knew she was right. She just needed them to believe her. Why won't they believe me?

Buffy's voice was soft, broken. "Dawn, I…I can't do that."

Her own emotions threatening to overwhelm her, Dawn closed her eyes, a tear rolling down her cheek before opening them again, and then she locked tearful eyes with her big sister. "Then, I'm sorry…God, I'm so sorry, Buffy…but you have to go."

With but a few simple words, Dawn had done something no demon had ever been able to do…she tore the heart out of Buffy Summers.

In a dazed and stunned haze, Buffy briefly looked around the room. No one spoke up for her. No one took her side.

No one asked her to stay.

So with what was left of her heart having shattered in her chest, Buffy Summers, the mighty Slayer, turned in a daze and slowly began to walk toward the door, thrown out of her own home like a bad puppy.

"Buffy, wait!", Cordelia's voice called out.

Buffy froze for a moment, then turned around to see Cordy's concerned face. Funny, how in a room with her sister, her closest friends and almost all of her allies, the only one who even made a motion to stop her was a girl…no, a woman… whom, for years, rarely had a kind word for her before they mended fences recently and became friends.

The irony would have had Buffy laughing hysterically if she wasn't so close to dying of anguish.

Cordelia hurt for Buffy, she really did. This was not what she had wanted. Not at all. The Seer felt like she had failed Buffy. Somehow, she felt like she was letting Angel down, as well. He was off trying to save them, counting on them to hold things together back home, yet here she was, watching the love of her best friend's life—her friend—getting kicked out of her own home.

Fighting her own tears that threatened to spill, Cordelia visibly struggled for words. "Buffy…Caleb is still out there. You shouldn't…You don't have to…"

"Cordelia, did you have a vision?", Wesley questioned, the briefest flicker of concern thawing through his icy blue eyes.

Cordelia stiffened, indignant. "No, but I have a heart. Look, no matter what just happened, Buffy's still our friend. We can't just kick her out of her own house, the only safe place left in town, with Psycho Choir Boy still on the loose out there!"

"She can handle herself just fine", Kennedy smugly chimed in, tossing Buffy a disdainful look. "She's the Slayer. She said so herself." She threw Buffy a withering glance, delighting in how the tables had turned. "Besides, it's not like anyone actually wants her here."

It took everything Buffy had not to wince at how Kennedy had rubbed salt in these fresh wounds in her heart, her soul.

Cordelia whirled on Kennedy, her hazel eyes lit into twin pools of hellfire. "I don't know you. And frankly, I don't like you. So if you don't shut the hell up right now? Then both Caleb and those 99-cent Salvation Army cargo pants you're wearing are going to be the least of your problems. You dig? I was talking to my friend."

A shocked Kennedy's jaw gaped open at Cordelia's vicious swipe at her, before the rookie Potential sat back down, her arms crossed indignantly, thoroughly embarrassed. Willow, despite herself, had to fight a small smile that tugged threateningly at her lips. Despite her shock, even Faith let out a short chuckle at the May Queen's cat-like claws ripping this annoying brat a new one. Even Xander, despite how complicated things got between him and Cordelia, fought from cracking a small smile at that.

Cordelia's words briefly brought warmth inside the chill that had settled in Buffy's chest. Even after all of this, after everything that happened…someone still cared for her safety. The broken-hearted Slayer gave a small, yet grateful smile at Cordelia.

But when her eyes ticked to Faith, then to Dawn, whatever remnants of hope built in Buffy's heart crumbled for good.

Her friends and family had spoken. Buffy was officially voted off the island. Even if she did know how to go from being a leader, the leader, to just another good soldier, (and she didn't) how could she forget this…betrayal? And her own sister had told her she wanted her gone.

If they want me gone, she thought in utter misery, I guess I'm gone.

"It's okay, Cordy", Buffy said, her voice so strangled with grief that it was only barely above a whisper. "I'll be…okay…"

Cordelia bit her lip, sympathy pouring out of the Seers' eyes. "Buffy…I'm so sorry."

Buffy nodded weakly. She turned to go, but stopped, turning back to Cordelia. "Just…just tell Angel I'll be alright…if…when…he gets back. Okay?"

Cordelia nodded, sadly.

And with that, the dejected Buffy silently, slowly, walked out, banished from her own home.

"Ding dong, the witch is dead", Rona sang snidely.

Outraged at the insult to her sister, Dawn eyed Rona angrily, her voice low and hard like thunder, with more grief and anger than she had felt since she learned she was The Key, more than she felt even when she learned Connor had run away. "Shut. Your. Mouth."

Rona's smirk shriveled under the heated glare of the Slayer's sister. Not wanting to risk a confrontation, she looked away awkwardly.

Cordelia let a small corner of her mouth smile a little at Dawn's outburst. But that smile faded as the magnitude of what just happened sank in on her. They were going into the apocalypse, the battle of their lives, the Final Battle, without one of their biggest players.

Without Buffy Summers.

Without the Slayer.

Without the Chosen One.

The Seer's thoughts echoed the thoughts of more than one person inside the Summers home:

Did we really do the right thing?


"B!"

Following Buffy to the outside front porch, Faith hurriedly tried to explain what happened.

Though the other Slayer wouldn't even look at her, though there was so much bad blood and bad history between them, both past and present, Faith forced herself to ignore it.

She had to say something. She just felt so bad for Buffy.

Faith still couldn't believe it. When she woke up this morning, taking control of Team White Hat had definitely not been on her bingo card. She couldn't even begin to understand why. Why would they want her, someone who had a checkered past and barely survived getting tortured by the enemy, over Buffy, the reigning, defending world heavyweight champion of Apocalypse Fighting? Buffy's a freakin' Lamborghini nobody wants to drive, the top free agent nobody wants to sign, the Beauty Pageant queen that nobody wants to take to the prom…yet they want me? Why?

Ignoring her tortured thoughts, Faith turned concerned eyes on Buffy, pleading with her to believe her words.

"Hey. B! Look...I…I don't want this. Any of this. I swear I didn't want it to go this way. I mean, your plan still sucks, but I didn't want this!" Faith frantically shook her head. "I'm not Leader Gal. That's your shtick, that's Angel's gig, but it's not mine!"

Feeling guilt and panic and more panic, and a strange sense of loyalty among fellow Slayers that overtook her for reasons she couldn't understand, Faith took a breath, and gave voice to a last-ditch idea. "Just…just say the word, B, and we'll walk back in there together and I'll tell them 'No', that-that you're still in charge, I'll tell them to take their offer and shove it up their—"

"Don't," Buffy said sternly, shortly.

Faith pressed on, almost desperately. "I mean it, B, I didn't want—!"

But then she shut her mouth. Watched the way that Buffy's hands trembled ever so slightly. The way her head hung down. And then she realized it. Buffy was trying everything she could to keep from falling apart. To keep from crying.

And she's losing, Faith thought in shocked sympathy. Oh, B…

"Don't...be afraid…to lead them," Buffy said in a quiet, mangled voice. Then she turned around to face Faith. Her face was wet with tears.

"Buffy, I…" a panicking Faith breathed hard. Her pained brown eyes met the tearful green ones of the woman whom she had admired, who she had envied for so long. Though it hurt her to admit it, the dark-haired Slayer quietly confessed her real fear. "I'm not ready."

"No, Faith", a teary-eyed Buffy said softly, her voice pained, but forceful. Urgently. "You are ready. You have to be! Now. You heard them. Whether you wanted it or not, no matter what you've gone through, what you're going through now…their lives are yours."

With tears welling in her own eyes, Faith looked stricken. Spooked. She was no leader, and she knew it. All she had ever done was mess up, all she ever had to worry about her whole life was herself. And now she was supposed to lead this makeshift army of heroes? Save the world? By herself? Without Buffy? Without Angel?

All by herself?

Biting her lip, Faith's doubts began to speak for her, a feeling of being trapped overwhelming her. "But what if…what if I can't?"

Faith looked at Buffy in a panic, like she wanted to turn and run, just run and keep on running, and never look back. Leave it all behind, this town, this trauma, this burden, this apocalypse…even Spike, as much as it hurt her heart to think about leaving him… "What if I screw this up? What if I'm not good enough? I'm not you, B! I'm not Angel! Hell, I'm not even Spike! I'm no leader! What if I—?"

Without warning, Buffy then reached up, pulled Faith close and quickly kissed her on the forehead, before pulling her into a tight hug.

And she just held her.

For what seemed like the longest time.

Despite everything that had happened between them through the years…the Allen Finch killing, Faith betraying her, Faith nearly killing the ones she loved, Faith switching bodies with her and screwing her ex-boyfriend, all the tension between them the last few weeks, even the fiasco last night…

…despite all the jealousy, the rivalry, all of the differences that made them as different as night and day…

There was Buffy, embracing her old rival on her front porch.

In a daze, a stunned Faith somehow realized what Buffy was doing.

She was passing her the torch.

She was handing her everything. The keys to the kingdom.

The mantle of the Slayer.

Her friends. Her family. Her Watcher. Her freaking house. The job of protecting the world. All the things that Faith was meant to have were it not for the glitch in the Slayer line that allowed both Slayers to exist at the same time. The things Faith would have had if life had given her the same kind of luck that Buffy had compared to her.

It was supposed to be everything Faith had ever wanted. Everything that she was jealous of Buffy for having for years. Everything she had dreamed of having herself. And it was finally all hers. Buffy had given them to her. Accepted her. Finally recognized her as an equal.

After years of being second-best, the 'other' Slayer, waiting in the wings of her legendary predecessor, Faith realized, now it was finally her turn. Her time to shine. Her moment…

So why do I feel so shitty? Faith wondered in her daze and shock. Why does it feel so…wrong?

"Faith…if I ever made you feel like you weren't good enough…I'm sorry," Buffy murmured quietly, hugging the younger Slayer tightly. "But you have to believe that you are. You're the one they…" She swallowed hard, more tears falling down her face. "You're the one they chose."

Her emotions going haywire, Faith felt the urge to cry, scream, laugh and vomit all at the same time. This was too much, too much to take in at once, happening too fast. But the Merry-Go-Round of the last few days was spinning at Warp-5 and there was no stepping off it now.

"I won't lie, Faith", Buffy whispered, grief-stricken. "It's only gonna get harder. But you're all they have now. You're the most powerful one in that house right now. You're the strongest, the fastest…you're The Slayer. You'll be afraid, but you can't let that stop you. You'll get hurt, but you can't let that slow you. They'll be gunning for you, but you can't let them beat you. Because you're all they have. You're the Slayer. Without you…they die. I'm trusting you, I'm begging you, please…" she looked through the window and saw Dawn standing in the corner of the room, her eyes sad and distant. "Protect them…"

Awed, humbled and feeling so many emotions, Faith slowly began to raise her arms to hug Buffy back…

But Buffy pulled back before she could, the beautiful blonde warrior's hand resting gently against Faith's cheek, both trembling from the unnatural chill of the dark Spring night. Her last words were both a plea and an order:

"…but…lead them."

And with that, the heartbroken Buffy walked down off the front porch, slowly trudging away.

"B, wait!", Faith called to her, desperately. As Buffy turned to meet her, Faith swore it almost physically hurt to see her in this much pain. "Where…where are you going?"

Buffy looked away, distantly. "I wish I knew. But…when the time comes, when…" she swallowed the lump in her throat. "…if…you need me…I'll be there."

Faith was stunned. "You mean…you're not leaving town?"

Buffy let out a bitter laugh. "Where can I go? What can…?" She broke off, drawing in a shaky, much needed breath. It felt like she hadn't taken one in forever. "I tried running away once. I'm done with that. This is my home, Faith. They're my family. And no matter…" She stopped, trying hard not to choke on the heart-sized lump lodged in her throat. "…no matter what was said, or done…I won't abandon them again. Ever."

Faith was fighting to keep the tears at bay. A battle she was losing. "B…", she said, searching for words. "Is…is there anything I can do?"

Buffy smiled, even as the tears continued to flow from her eyes. "Hold the line. Be the Slayer. Everything I have, everything that means anything to me…"

She paused, thinking what those words meant, what they encompassed. Dawn. Her home. Her family, her friends, Spike…even Angel.

Even the man she loved. Even if he doesn't want me…

"It's all yours now," Buffy softly uttered through tears. "Protect it. Defend it. Guard it with your life. It's…it's lonely. And hard. And it'll hurt like nothing else that's ever hurt, but…it's the burden you carry. It's your blessing, it's your curse…your destiny. So I need you to hold the line. Be The Slayer, Faith."

She broke off, her eyes sparkling like raindrops. "Because without her…they're dead."

They said nothing as they stared back at each other for what seemed like forever.

Nothing needed to be said.

Feeling more humbled than any other time in her entire life, Faith simply held Buffy's gaze, and nodded silently. Resolved not to fail her. After all, in sisterhood, one didn't let their sisters down.

Satisfied, Buffy nodded back, her face statue-like in its coldness, but wet with emotion.

It was a silent promise between two sisters in spirit. A pact between two Slayers, each one different as night and day, yet both halves part of the same coin.

Then, with her face tear-streaked, her head swimming and her heart shattered into infinite pieces…

…her mother gone…

…her town deserted and abandoned…

…her friends abandoning her…

…Angel abandoning her…

…her own purpose, her duty, abandoning her…

…Buffy turned and walked down the front walk into her empty town, her destination, much like her fate, unknown.

And Faith could only watch, as a single tear rolled down her cheek, as she saw the woman she had envied and idolized for so long…

…the world-famous Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer, God-Killer, Soldier of Light, Warrior of Good, Guardian of the Hellmouth, Living Legend…

…slowly walk away.

Alone.


To Be Continued…


Next: TOUCHED

To return to the woman he loves, Angel and his allies must come face-to-face with The Home Wrecker Killer. Can Angel defeat a stone-cold killer that wields the darkness as his weapon without succumbing to the need for revenge? Or will the temptation of vengeance prove too great for even Angel to overcome?

Buffy is out, betrayed by her friends. Now, Faith takes the mantle of The Slayer as The Awakening ticks closer. But will she be enough to stop The First Evil? And what will become of Buffy?


A/N: Whew! THAT was a long write-up! It wasn't easy, as I know that "Empty Places" hold a special place in hell for a lot of Buffy fans. I get it. I hated that episode, too. Really interested in hearing how you guys think I handled this particularly infamous scene. I decided to give a little more balance to both sides and to use some of the original script of the scene. Overall, I hope it was an improvement. I hated having Buffy still get kicked out, but it had to be done for the plot, and some future scenes to come. While it would have been easy (and satisfying) to write Buffy responding to Dawn, "No. YOU get out. ALL of you, I pay the bills here, all you freeloading m-f'ers go find somewhere else to sleep!" I realized that Buffy, at her core, would never do that. That's not who she is. She's a protector. She will always put the needs of her family and friends, and sometimes the world, above all else. That's the pain of her struggle. That's what makes her a hero. She is very much like Angel in that way.

And speaking of Angel, I have a feeling that he's not gonna be too happy with our gang once he comes back to find the woman he loves has been kicked out of her own home…if he survives Walter Kindel, that is.

Happy early Halloween! I've already started writing the next chapters, more on the way soon! Special thanks to everyone who has been following along with comments, follows and those neat TV Tropes entries, you guys rock! Please read, follow and review (especially review)! More coming soon! Later!


Best,

Jean-theGuardian