The Slayer Chronicles: Shadows of the Hellmouth

by Elephantheart

This story follows Buffy Summers and her friends as they battle the dark forces threatening Sunnydale, a town perched on the Hellmouth. Brenwyn, a powerful young witch with mysterious visions, joins the Scooby Gang and quickly becomes integral to their fight against vampires, demons, and supernatural threats. A romance blooms between Xander and Brenwyn, creating a new group dynamic

9. Part IX: Surprise

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: "Surprise"

The Summers' Residence - Buffy's Room

The late-night cloaked Buffy's bedroom in shadows, the only light coming from the moon, which filtered through the sheer curtains and painted pale, silvery shapes on the walls. Everything was still, the world outside seemingly at rest, and within that calm, Buffy lay curled under her blankets, her breathing soft and even as she slept. The peacefulness of the scene was deceiving, however, for her dreams stirred restlessly in the corners of her mind.

With a small, groggy movement, Buffy's eyes fluttered open. Her mouth felt dry, and instinctively, she reached for the glass of water on her nightstand. Her fingers brushed the rim but found it empty. She hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly, then slid out of bed. The cool air prickled her skin as her bare feet touched the hardwood floor.

She wandered into the hallway, her senses dulled by the fog of sleep. The house was quiet, almost unnaturally, as if the walls were holding their breath. Buffy moved slowly, her steps light but unsteady, the faint sound of her footfalls the only disturbance in the otherwise silent space. Unbeknownst to her, a figure emerged from the shadows behind her, moving with predatory grace. It was Drusilla, her dark hair wild and her pale face smeared with the glistening red of fresh blood. Her eyes were wide with wicked delight, her lips curled into a twisted smile as she stalked Buffy, a feral creature on the hunt.

Buffy, still half-asleep, paused just before Drusilla's hand could reach her. Something was wrong, a presence that made her skin crawl, but the hallway was empty when she turned. The shadows stretched long and deep, but there was nothing there. She shook off the uneasy feeling and continued toward the bathroom door. But when she opened it, she was no longer in her house.

The Bronze greeted her with its eerie glow, the dim lighting casting strange shadows on the walls. The familiar club was somehow transformed, the usual hum of voices and music replaced by a haunting, otherworldly melody. The air was thick with it, making the place feel unreal, dreamlike. Buffy stood in her pajamas, out of place and out of time, her gaze drifting through the haze. Across the room, Willow sat at a table, having coffee with a small monkey dressed in a tiny hat and vest. She waved at Buffy, smiling as though nothing was amiss. Confused, Buffy waved back, her movements sluggish, her mind still trying to make sense of her surroundings.

She turned and saw Joyce next, her mother sitting at another table, sipping from an oversized cup and saucer. There was a heaviness in Joyce's eyes, a quiet concern that tightened Buffy's chest.

"Do you really think you're ready, Buffy?" Joyce asked, her voice low and laced with meaning.

Buffy blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Before she could get an answer, the large saucer slipped from Joyce's hands, crashing to the floor. The sound was sharp and unnerving, and Buffy flinched. When she looked back, her mother was gone, vanished as if she had never been there at all.

Disoriented, Buffy wandered toward the dance floor, where couples moved in a slow, seductive rhythm, their bodies entwined, lost in each other. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and perfume, the energy around them almost too intimate, too intense. Buffy felt like an outsider, standing on the edge of something she couldn't understand. But then, through the crowd, she saw him—Angel.

Their eyes met across the floor, and despite the strange, dreamlike quality of everything around them, the connection between them felt real and solid. He smiled at her, and for a moment, all the confusion and fear melted away. She smiled back, her heart lifting as she began to move toward him, her steps quickening. But just as she was about to reach him, the air shifted.

Drusilla appeared behind Angel, her figure dark and menacing. Before Buffy could shout a warning, Drusilla moved with terrifying speed, driving a stake into Angel's back with a savage, effortless grace. Buffy froze, horror gripping her as she watched Angel's body stiffen, his face contorting in pain.

"Angel!" Buffy screamed, her voice echoing through the club, her hand reaching out desperately for him.

But it was too late. As her fingers brushed his, Angel's body crumbled into ash, the particles swirling in the air before they disappeared entirely. His final look—one of sadness, one of love—was etched into Buffy's mind as he disintegrated, leaving her standing alone in the space where he had been.

Behind him, Drusilla smiled, her eyes glittering with malice, enjoying every moment of Buffy's anguish. "Happy Birthday, Buffy," she whispered, her voice a venomous caress.

Buffy bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. Her room was dark and quiet, but the terror from the dream clung to her like a second skin. Sweat dampened her brow, and she ran a shaky hand through her hair, struggling to shake off the lingering horror of what she had just seen. The nightmare had felt so real, so vivid. Even now, the image of Angel crumbling into ash haunted her mind, the weight of his loss pressing down on her like a stone.

Angel's Apartment

The hallway outside Angel's apartment was dimly lit, the air thick with the quiet of early morning. Buffy stood there, shifting on her feet as she knocked on his door, her fingers lightly brushing the wood as she called out, her voice laced with hesitation. "Angel?"

A beat of silence followed, and then she heard his muffled response from the other side of the door.

"Hold on…"

The door creaked open, revealing Angel, still rumpled from sleep. His hair was tousled, and he looked disarmingly relaxed in a way that softened the usual sharpness of his features. The light from the hallway barely penetrated the darkness within, the heavy shades drawn tight, creating a cool, shadowy refuge inside his apartment.

"Hey..." he greeted, his voice low and sleepy. "Everything okay?"

Buffy stepped inside, her gaze scanning the shadowy interior. The apartment was as dark as a tomb, the kind of darkness that made her heart clench just a little tighter, reminding her of the fragility of the balance between their worlds.

"That's what I was going to ask you," Buffy said, turning toward him, her eyes searching his face. "You're okay, right?"

Angel blinked, confused but concerned. "Sure. I'm fine. What's up?"

Without thinking, Buffy moved into his arms, seeking comfort in the solidity of him. His arms wrapped around her, warm and reassuring, though she could sense the confusion in the way he held her. Still, he stroked her back, soothing her as best he could.

"I had this dream," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Drusilla was alive. It was awful."

Angel's hand stilled for a moment as he processed her words. "What happened?" he asked gently.

"She killed you," Buffy continued, her voice trembling. "Right in front of me. I saw the whole thing."

Angel's hand resumed its gentle motion, stroking her hair as he tried to calm her. "It was just a dream. It wasn't real."

Buffy pulled away slightly, the fear still clinging to her as she met his gaze. "But it felt so real."

"It wasn't," Angel said softly, his eyes steady on hers. "Here I am."

Buffy moved away from him entirely now, her anxiety creeping back as the memory of the dream played over in her mind. "This happened before, Angel. That dream I had about the Master... It came true."

Angel followed her, his voice steady and calm. "Still, not every dream you have comes true. I mean, what else did you dream last night? Can you remember?"

Buffy thought for a moment, trying to shift through the lingering feelings of dread. "That... Giles and I opened an office supply warehouse in Las Vegas."

Angel raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in amusement. "You see my point."

Buffy let out a small, reluctant laugh, but it didn't completely shake her worry. "Yeah... But what if Drusilla is alive? We never saw her body."

"She's not," Angel reassured her. "But even if she was—we'd deal with it."

He stepped closer, drawing her back into his arms, the darkness of the room cocooning them both in the safety of their shared space.

"But what if—"

Angel silenced her with a kiss. It was soft at first, meant to calm her, but as Buffy relaxed into it, the intensity between them grew fast. The familiar, electric pull of him tugged at her, and for a moment, the world outside disappeared, leaving only the two of them, locked in this intimate, unspoken understanding.

"What if what?" Angel murmured against her lips, his breath warm as he leaned back just enough to look at her.

Buffy, her heart racing, managed a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Were we talking?"

They kissed again, the unspoken tension between them ebbing and flowing with every touch. The bed in the corner of the room beckoned, its presence a silent temptation they both acknowledged with a glance but didn't act on.

"I... have to get to school," Buffy whispered breathlessly, her hands still resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers.

"I know," Angel replied, his voice low and almost regretful as they kissed again, their lips meeting with the promise of more.

Buffy sighed, pulling back slightly, her forehead resting against his as she whispered, "God, you feel..."

Angel smirked, lifting her off her feet as he carried her to the front door, still kissing her as though he couldn't bear to let her go just yet. They kissed against the door, the cool wood pressing against Buffy's back as their lips met again and again, each kiss filled with a growing urgency. Finally, they pulled back, both breathless and flushed, standing in the dim light of the doorway.

Buffy laughed softly, her hand on the doorknob. "Alright. This is me."

Angel watched as she opened the door, her eyes lingering on him for one last kiss before she left.

"You still haven't told me what you want for your birthday," Angel said, his voice gentle as he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes never leaving hers.

Buffy smiled, her lips curving into a playful grin. "Surprise me."

Angel's smile deepened, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he replied, "Okay. I will."

Neither of them moved, the moment stretching out between them like a fragile thread. Buffy felt the weight of it, the pull to stay with him, to let the rest of the world fade away. She hesitated, her voice softening.

"This was nice," she admitted, her eyes holding his. "I like you first thing in the morning."

Angel's smile was warm, his gaze tender as he replied, "It's bedtime for me."

Buffy, realizing how that sounded, stammered, "Then I like you at bedtime."

The words hung awkwardly in the air, and she rushed to clarify, her cheeks flushing. "I mean... You know what I mean."

Angel's eyes gleamed with quiet amusement, his voice teasing as he replied, "I think so. What do you mean?"

Buffy swallowed, her heart beating faster as she struggled to find the right words. "I mean... I like seeing you. And the part at the end of the night when we say goodbye, it's... getting harder."

Angel's eyes softened, the humor slipping away as her words sank in. He took a small step closer, his voice gentle, vulnerable. "Yeah. It is."

For a long moment, they stood there, neither of them daring to say more, the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging between them like a delicate, fragile truth.

Sunnydale High - The Quad

Sunnydale High was bathed in warm, golden sunlight, the rays bouncing off the brick facade and casting long, soft shadows across the schoolyard. The morning air was fresh, filled with the sounds of students arriving, chatting, and hurrying to class. Buffy, Willow, and Brenwyn strolled down the path leading to the entrance, the sunlight filtering through the trees, dappling their faces with light as they walked together.

Willow's face was a mix of disbelief and amusement as she glanced at Buffy, her eyes wide with curiosity. "I like you at bedtime? You actually said that?"

Buffy winced, her cheeks flushing a little as she ran a hand through her hair. "I know. I know."

Willow shook her head, her lips quirking up in a smile. "Man, that's... I don't know, that's moxie or something!"

"It wasn't planned," Buffy replied, her voice laced with regret. She fiddled with the strap of her bag, her eyes cast down as she spoke. "It just... came out."

Brenwyn, walking beside her, shot her a mischievous grin. "And he was into it? He wants to see you at bedtime, too?"

Buffy stopped in her tracks, her footsteps faltering as the weight of the situation sank in. The sunlight glinted off her hair, casting a soft halo around her as she stood there, momentarily frozen in thought. "Yeah," she said softly. "I think he does. I mean, he's cool about it."

Willow gave her an encouraging smile, the morning light highlighting the warmth in her gaze. "Of course he is. He's cool. He'd never, you know..."

"Push," Buffy finished for her, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Right. He's not the type," Willow reassured her.

Buffy turned to face her friends fully, the breeze lightly tugging at the ends of her hair as she wrestled with her feelings. "What am I going to do?"

Brenwyn's expression softened, her voice thoughtful and calm. "What do you want to do?"

Buffy sighed, her eyes flickering toward the ground as her thoughts raced. "Well... wanting isn't always the right thing. Acting on what you want can be wrong."

"True," Brenwyn agreed, nodding slightly as the three stood together in the shade of a nearby tree.

"But if you don't act on what you want…" Buffy paused, her voice quiet, the words heavy with meaning. "You could watch your whole life pass you by."

Willow smiled gently, her green eyes bright in the sunlight. "Carpe diem. You told me that once."

"Seize the fish?" Buffy asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Willow giggled, shaking her head. "Not carp. Carpe. It means 'seize the day.'"

"Oh. Right," Buffy replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. After a long beat, she let out a small breath, her voice steady. "I think we're going to... seize it. Sooner or later. Once you get to a certain point, seizing is sort of inevitable."

The words lingered between them, their meaning hanging in the air as the three friends resumed their walk, moving toward the entrance of the school. The sunlight played across the ground, casting long shadows as they strolled side by side. Buffy's gaze wandered ahead, catching sight of Oz in the distance. He walked with his guitar case slung over his shoulder, his cool, laid-back aura standing out against the backdrop of bustling students.

"Ooh, speaking of wow potential," Buffy said, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she nodded toward Oz. "There's Oz. What do we think? Any sparkage?"

Willow's cheeks flushed with a soft pink as her eyes followed Buffy's gaze. Her lips twitched into a shy smile. "He's nice. I like his hands."

Brenwyn's eyes gleamed with amusement as she glanced at Willow. "Ooh, fixation on insignificant detail. Definite crush sign."

Willow hesitated, her voice dropping to a soft murmur. "I don't know, though. I mean, he is a senior…"

Buffy waved her hand dismissively, her tone playful. "You think he's too old because he's a senior? Please. My boyfriend had a bicentennial."

Willow laughed softly but still looked uncertain. "That's true, I guess... I just…"

"You can't spend the rest of your life waiting for him to wake up and smell the hottie," Buffy said, looping her arm through Brenwyn's and tugging her along. "Make a move. Do the talking thing."

Willow bit her lip, her nerves visible in the way she hesitated. "What if the talking thing becomes the awkward silence thing?"

"You won't know unless you try." Buffy grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Come on, Will. Seize the fish!"

Brenwyn turned back toward Willow with an encouraging smile, her voice light and playful as she was pulled away by Buffy. "You've got this!"

Willow watched them walk off before taking a deep breath, summoning her courage as she hurried to catch up with Oz. The morning sunlight cast long shadows over the school's steps, but Oz's cool, laid-back demeanor remained unchanged as he glanced her way, his lips curving into a soft, welcoming smile.

"Hey," Willow greeted, her heart fluttering as she glanced at the guitar case slung casually over his shoulder.

"Hey," Oz replied, his voice steady and calm as always.

Willow's gaze drifted to the guitar case. "Do you have a... gig tonight?"

Oz's face remained neutral, his tone effortlessly laid-back. "Practice. The band's kind of moving toward this new sound where we suck. So, practice."

Willow's lips curled into a shy smile, warmth filling her chest. "I think you guys sound good," she said quietly. "I bet you've got a lot of groupies."

Oz tilted his head thoughtfully, his expression slightly bemused. "It happens. But I'm living groupie-free nowadays. I'm clean."

"Oh," Willow murmured, her nerves making her feel more awkward than usual.

Oz's expression softened, his gaze meeting hers. "I'm gonna ask you if you wanna go out tomorrow night. I'm actually kind of nervous about it. It's interesting."

Willow blinked, caught off guard. "Oh. Well, if it helps at all, I'm gonna say yes."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Oz's mouth. "It helps. It adds a comfort zone." He paused before asking, "You wanna go out tomorrow night?"

Willow's excitement faltered as realization struck. "I can't!"

Oz's lips quirked into a half-smile. "I like that you're unpredictable."

Willow cringed internally, remembering. "It's Buffy's birthday, and we're throwing her a surprise party."

Oz nodded, unbothered. "That's okay."

Willow bit her lip, summoning the courage to ask. "But you could come. If you wanted."

Oz paused, considering. "Don't wanna crash…"

Willow's heart raced as she blurted out, "No, that's fine! You could be my... date."

"All right," Oz agreed, his calm demeanor never wavering. "I'm in."

As Oz walked away, his guitar case swinging slightly, Willow stood in place, her breath catching in her throat as the reality of her words sank in.

"I said date…" she whispered to herself, the word lingering in the air like a promise, her heart fluttering with anticipation.

Sunnydale High - The Hallway

The bustling school hallway was filled with the usual hum of chatter and slamming lockers, sunlight filtering through the high windows and casting streaks of light across the polished floors. Brenwyn stood at her locker, the soft rustle of papers and books accompanying her as she sorted through her things. The scent of lavender lingered in the air, a faint trace of her conditioner.

Nearby, Xander hovered with his usual casual air, his backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. He watched her for a moment, his nerves hidden behind a grin, before breaking the silence.

"Buffy's party," he said, the excitement in his voice barely masked by his usual laid-back demeanor. "Manana."

Brenwyn glanced up from her locker, her eyes brightening as a grin spread across her face. "I'm so excited! I'm baking brownies." She paused for effect, her voice lowering playfully. "They're my specialty."

Her smile was contagious, and Xander couldn't help but return it. His nerves, however, began to creep in, and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Can't wait to try them," he said, though his voice wavered slightly as if there was more he wanted to say. The hallway buzzed with life around them, students passing by, but in this moment, it felt like they were in their own little world. Xander shifted his weight, trying to keep his cool, before finally blurting out, "I just wanted to ask…"

Brenwyn raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden hesitance. Xander avoided her gaze for a beat, then finally met her eyes, the usual spark of humor dimmed by something more vulnerable.

"So, you're going," he said, his voice softer now, as though testing the waters. "I'm going. Should we - you know - go?"

Brenwyn leaned back against her locker, a playful smirk curving her lips. She crossed her arms, studying him with mock seriousness. "Are you asking me out on a second date, Harris?"

Xander chuckled, his grin returning, though this time it was more sheepish. "Guilty."

Brenwyn's teasing demeanor softened, and her smirk melted into something warmer. "Then I guess I'll have to say yes," she replied, her voice light but sincere.

"Excellent choice," he said with a playful waggle of his eyebrows. "I'll be the perfect second-date companion: witty, charming, slightly less annoying than usual. You'll see."

Brenwyn chuckled, shaking her head as they began walking down the hallway together, their footsteps syncing in time. "Only slightly less annoying, huh? Is that supposed to be a selling point?"

"Absolutely." Xander tapped his chin thoughtfully, his tone mock-serious. "Think about it, if I toned down my charm too much, I'd just be, you know, normal. And we can't have that."

"Normal is overrated," Brenwyn quipped, nudging him playfully with her elbow. Her summer dress swirled around her legs as she moved, and she played with the silver bangles on her wrist, trying to hide her growing smile.

Xander glanced over at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, what's your party strategy tomorrow? Are you a mingle-and-chat person, or do you hide out near the snack table, keeping the brownies safe from the savages?"

Brenwyn smirked. "Well, considering I'll be the one responsible for the brownies, I have a duty to protect them. So, I guess you'll find me by the snack table. You?"

"I'm more of a roam-around kind of guy," Xander replied, putting his hands in his pockets and walking backward so he could face her. "You know, spread the Xander charm evenly throughout the room. A laugh here, a joke there, maybe even a dance-off if I'm feeling bold."

Brenwyn laughed, the sound light and musical as it echoed through the hallway. "A dance-off, huh? I'd pay good money to see that."

"Oh, you won't have to pay," Xander said, giving her a dramatic wink. "I'll bring the moves for free. And trust me, they are worth every penny."

As they approached the student lounge, the lighthearted banter between them continued, filling the space with easy warmth. The lounge was bustling with students, the soft hum of conversation mixing with the sound of textbooks being flipped and bags being rustled. Xander and Brenwyn walked past the couches, where a group of freshmen were huddled around a chessboard, and soon spotted Giles sitting by a table near the windows, deeply engrossed in a book.

"Ah, and there's our favorite Watcher," Xander said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Sitting in his natural habitat, surrounded by dusty tomes, and, wait, is that tea?"

"Of course it is," Brenwyn whispered back, her lips quirking in amusement. "Giles and tea are like… you and bad puns. Inseparable."

"Hey now," Xander feigned offense, though his smile betrayed him. "I'll have you know my puns are fantastic."

As they approached Giles, Xander called out, "Hey, Giles! Care for a break from all the ancient knowledge? Brenwyn and I are here to save you from certain boredom."

Giles looked up from his book, blinking as if pulled from a trance. He adjusted his glasses and gave them a polite but somewhat distracted smile. "Ah, Xander. Brenwyn. Hello." He glanced at the two of them, noting their shared smiles and easy conversation. "I see you two are… in high spirits today."

"We're just planning some top-secret party maneuvers for Buffy's birthday," Xander said, sliding into the chair opposite Giles and adopting an overly serious tone. "You know, crucial brownie defense strategies, dance-offs, the usual."

Brenwyn shook her head, stifling a laugh as she took the seat next to Xander. "Basically, we're making sure Buffy has the best birthday ever."

Giles raised an eyebrow, setting his book aside. "Well, I'm sure Buffy will appreciate the effort. Just… don't let the festivities get too out of hand. I'd rather not see the library overrun by chaos come Monday."

Xander leaned back in his chair, flashing a mischievous grin. "No promises, Giles. Chaos kind of follows us around."

Giles sighed but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes, well, that much is clear."

The school hallway bustled with the usual morning activity as Giles caught sight of Buffy and Ms. Calendar approaching. "Ah, here comes Buffy. Remember, discretion is the better part of valor..." Giles began.

Xander smirked, rolling his eyes. "You could've just said 'shhh,' you know. Are all you Brits such drama queens?"

Giles opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Buffy and Ms. Calendar joined them. Xander immediately turned his attention to Buffy, his face lighting up with playful mischief.

"Buffy! I feel a pre-birthday pinching coming on," Xander declared, reaching toward her.

Buffy shot him a look so sharp it could have cut through steel.

Brenwyn promptly smacked him on the arm.

"Ow! Okay, okay! Cancel pinching," Xander muttered, rubbing his arm dramatically.

Giles turned his attention to Buffy, his brow furrowing with concern. "What's the matter, Buffy? You look fatigued."

Buffy sighed, her face troubled. "Rough night. I had a dream... Drusilla was alive and she killed Angel. It really spun me out. I even stopped by Angel's on the way to school, just to make sure he was okay."

Xander couldn't resist. "There's a line I haven't tried: 'I just dropped by to see if you're dead.' It says caring. Concerned. Smoochies guaranteed."

Buffy groaned, rolling her eyes. "Please. I didn't go over there for smoochies." She paused, then sheepishly added, "Well, when I found out he was okay, I was relieved, and... so, naturally..." She trailed off, clearly frustrated with herself. "Someone stop me."

Jenny, always quick on her feet, cut in. "So, Angel's alright?"

Buffy nodded but frowned, her unease still evident. "Yeah, but... I've just got this bad feeling. This wasn't a normal dream."

Giles's expression turned serious. "You feel it was more of a portent?"

Buffy shrugged, her eyes filled with uncertainty. "I don't know. I don't want to start a big freak-out over nothing."

Giles glanced down thoughtfully. "Still, we should be on alert. If Drusilla is alive, then we may be facing a cataclysmic state of affairs—"

Xander interrupted with a grin, gesturing toward Giles. "Again, so many words. Can't you just say we'd be in trouble?"

Giles sighed, casting a sidelong glance at Xander. "Go to class, Xander."

"Gone," Xander quipped, already moving away. He paused dramatically, turning back. "Notice the economy of phrasing. 'Gone.' It's simple. Direct."

Brenwyn smacked the back of his head, rolling her eyes.

"Stop the violence, woman!" Xander exclaimed, rubbing his head but grinning.

"Stop being an idiot," Brenwyn teased, a smile playing on her lips as she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward class.

Buffy watched them go before turning back to Giles, her face still clouded with worry. "I guess I should get gone, too."

Giles offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry yourself unduly, Buffy. This could be nothing."

"I know," Buffy replied, though her voice wavered with doubt. "I should keep my Slayer cool and all, but it's Angel. Which automatically equals maxi-wig."

She turned to head off to class, her steps a little slower than usual, weighed down by her thoughts. Giles and Ms. Calendar watched her go before turning and walking together toward the library. As they moved, Giles's expression betrayed the concern he had tried to keep from Buffy.

Jenny glanced up at him, sensing his unease. "What? You really think Buffy's having premonitions?"

Giles nodded slightly, his face thoughtful. "It's possible."

They reached the library doors and stepped inside, the quiet solitude of the room enveloping them. The scent of old books mixed with the soft click of Jenny's shoes on the polished floor as they continued their conversation.

"I guess it makes sense," Jenny said, leaning against the counter. "All of Buffy's senses are heightened. Why should her intuition be any different?"

Giles sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing them with a cloth, his eyes distant. "Precisely. It's not unheard of for the Slayer to start having prophetic dreams and visions as she approaches adulthood."

Jenny crossed her arms, giving Giles a pointed look. "Adulthood? Buffy's seventeen tomorrow, Giles. Don't rush her."

Giles put his glasses back on, his expression grim. "I'm not the one rushing her. While I'm loathe to admit it, the fact is, Slayers rarely live into their mid-twenties. It follows that she'd exhibit signs of maturity early on. Her whole life cycle is accelerated."

Jenny's eyes softened with concern as she watched Giles. "Still, you should be careful about treating her like a grown-up. Like—this thing with Angel. Have you even talked to her about it?"

Giles hesitated, his voice faltering slightly. "I... I suppose I try not to pry."

"Maybe you should, a little," Jenny suggested gently. "The way she talks - it's clear she has intense feelings for him."

"Well, yes. They're friends," Giles replied, though his tone was unsure.

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "They're more than friends, and you know it."

There was a beat as Giles processed her words. He sighed, the weight of it settling over him. "I'm not her father, Jenny."

"She looks up to you," Jenny countered softly. "She'll never actually say it, but she does. And at her age, it's easy to get in over your head. She could make some bad choices here. Trust me on this one."

Giles nodded slowly, his face troubled. "I'll keep an eye on it," he promised, though the concern still lingered in his eyes. "Right now, I'm worried enough trying to think of the right birthday present."

Sunnydale High - The Hallway

The halls of Sunnydale High bustled with the lively hum of students between classes, yet for Xander, Willow, and Brenwyn, time felt like it slowed as they strolled, absorbed in Xander's animated discussion. Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow that bounced off the metal lockers lining the walls, but the three of them were entirely focused on each other.

"So, here's the thing about Ender's Game," Xander said, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. His hands moved in grand gestures, trying to capture the story's depth. "It's not just about space battles and zero-gravity fights. It's about what it actually means to be a kid—or in Ender's case, what it means not to be one. These kids are put through insane stuff meant for, like, adults. But they're still called 'kids.' It's kind of insane."

Willow tilted her head thoughtfully. "Like when Ender's friend Dink tells him they're not really children?" she offered, her soft voice thoughtful.

"Exactly!" Xander's voice rose with enthusiasm, his hands mimicking a light explosion. "Dink tells Ender, 'I've got a pretty good idea what children are, and we're not children. We never cry. We're really trying to be adults.' But the sad part is—they are kids. They just don't get the luxury of a real childhood. No safety, no comfort."

Brenwyn watched him, entranced. Xander's unfiltered passion for the story revealed a depth she hadn't seen before, and she found herself captivated by the intensity in his eyes, the way he seemed so raw, so sincere.

"And Graff makes sure Ender believes no adult will ever step in to help him—ever," Xander continued, his voice softening, as if he himself could feel the weight Ender bore. "Ender even starts seeing his soldiers—like Bean—not as kids but as little commanders. They're kids, but they're forced into these messed-up situations where 'childhood' doesn't mean anything." He shook his head, his expression tinged with a strange kind of sorrow.

The hallway grew quieter as the bell signaled the start of the next class, leaving only a few stragglers, but the three of them were in their own world. Xander's eyes softened as he continued, his voice more introspective. "It's not like other books where it's just teenage 'no one understands me' stuff. This is on a whole other level. When I was a kid, I thought it was just cool 'cause of the space battles. But now... it kinda messes with me in a different way."

Brenwyn's heart fluttered as she listened. There was something endearing - irresistibly so - about Xander's intense passion. She couldn't help but notice how his hands gestured with each point, his voice rising with emotion, his expression sincere and open. His messy hair, his animated smile, his deep, thoughtful eyes… She felt a pull, a need that defied any logic she could muster. Without fully knowing what she was doing, Brenwyn interrupted him mid-sentence, asking softly, "Hey, Xander, could I... talk to you for a sec? Privately?"

Xander blinked, the surprise in his eyes quickly replaced with intrigue. "Sure," he said, glancing at Willow, who offered a bemused smile and shrugged.

Barely noticing Willow's puzzled expression, Brenwyn led Xander down the hall, guiding him into an empty supply closet. She closed the door behind them, casting the small room into a dim light that felt surprisingly intimate. The faint scent of cleanin products and aged paper hung in the air.

Xander opened his mouth, perhaps to ask a question, but before he could speak, Brenwyn stepped closer, closing the gap between them. She lifted herself up slightly, her heart pounding, and brushed her lips against his in a passionate kiss. The warmth of his lips sent a spark through her, and she felt her breath catch as he pulled her closer, his hands finding their place on her waist, his surprise melting into a gentle but eager response.

When they finally broke apart, Xander looked at her, his eyes wide with awe as he tried to catch his breath. "Wow," he managed, his voice a mix of disbelief and wonder. "Not that I'm complaining, but... what brought this on?"

Brenwyn hesitated, her cheeks flushed as she tried to find the right words. She reached down, taking one of his hands in hers and feeling the calluses on his fingers, his warm, steady pulse. "Your... hands," she murmured, her voice soft but full of meaning. "They're... I don't know, they're just... I love them."

Xander chuckled, a surprised grin spreading across his face. "My hands, huh?"

She nodded, still holding his hand as she reached up with her other to run her fingers through his hair, sending a shiver through him. "And... your hair. It's so soft." Her gaze lingered, her voice dropping to a whisper as she added, "And... your smile."

Her hand found his cheek, and she leaned in to kiss him again, the touch both gentle and filled with a tender passion. Xander's hand slid up to her face, his fingers brushing against her cheek as he smiled against her lips, his breath warm and steady.

When they finally pulled back, he looked into her eyes, his own filled with something close to awe. "I can't believe a girl like you... would even look at a guy like me," he whispered, his voice tinged with an almost shy sincerity.

Brenwyn felt her heart swell, warmth spreading through her chest as she took his face in her hands, her thumb tracing a line along his cheekbone. "Xander, you're so much more than you realize. You're funny. You're smart. You're brave... I couldn't help myself."

They stood there, lost in each other, the dimly lit space wrapping around them like a cocoon, silent but for the soft beat of their breaths. His gaze flicked down to her lips, and, fueled by a newfound confidence, he leaned in, capturing her mouth in another kiss, this one deeper, more intent. The urgency grew, each kiss a little messier, their breaths mixing as they pressed closer.

Brenwyn's fingers curled into his shirt, and she barely registered when her back met the wall, its solid presence grounding her as their kisses grew more fervent. Xander's knee brushed against hers, a quiet question in the motion, and she parted her legs slightly, allowing him to slide his thigh between them.

When he nudged upward, pressing against her in just the right way, she exhaled sharply against his lips, her breath hitching as the sensation sent a shockwave through her. He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers, giving her a moment to regain her bearings, his breath warm against her skin.

"Is that okay?" he asked, his voice low and rough with concern.

She managed a dazed nod, but he lifted her chin, meeting her eyes with a quiet intensity. "Tell me."

Brenwyn's breath caught, and she whispered, her voice barely steady, "Yes."

Xander didn't hesitate, his hands firm as they gripped her hips and pulled her close, their bodies moving together in a rhythm that was both tentative and thrilling. Brenwyn's fingers instinctively found their place on his shoulders, holding tight as he set a steady pace, guiding her against him. The small closet around them seemed to fade, leaving only the warmth between them, the quiet hum of their breaths filling the space.

He let her move against his thigh, her hips eager, the pressure sending soft, breathy sounds from her lips as they brushed his ear. She felt each shift and each deliberate nudge from him, and the closeness made her head spin. Xander leaned in, pressing his mouth to her neck, kissing a tender line along her pulse that only stoked the heat between them.

"Quiet," he murmured, his voice low and velvet-rich against her skin as she let out a louder sound, his words a gentle but amused warning. The gentle rumble of his voice was nearly a purr, vibrating through her and making her breath hitch. She tried to reply, but her thoughts were all tangled, language slipping away, so instead, she managed a fervent nod, catching his eye with a quick smile. She felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin as he continued, his mouth tracing warm, soft kisses along her neck, his teeth grazing teasingly, never fully biting, but enough to make her shiver.

As they moved, her leg brushed against him, feeling the solid press of him, a thrill sparking within her at the realization that she wasn't alone in how much this affected them both. Her lips curved into a smile as she tugged him even closer, her breathing unsteady. Determined to close any lingering distance, she tapped his hip with a silent urgency.

He pulled back immediately, concern flashing in his eyes as he searched her face, ready to stop. She felt a rush of warmth at the sight of it, the sincerity, and she shook her head, reaching boldly for him. Her hand found its place against the firm shape in his jeans, her touch confident, grounding. His breath hitched, and his fingers tightened around her wrist in reflex, his expression wavering between surprise and delight.

Their gazes met, his eyes dark and intense, hers mirroring a fierce, unspoken challenge. His hand softened its hold on her wrist, and he murmured her name, "Brenwyn," his voice roughened and husky, tinged with awe that made her pulse quicken.

Her lips parted as she absorbed the sound, the thrill of her name in his voice like a jolt of electricity. She felt words slip away, so she leaned in, her arms looping around his waist, and pulled him close. With a frustrated huff at the height difference, she lifted one leg, hooking it over his hip and rolling her hips against him, the closeness creating a heady mix of sensation.

Their breaths mingled in the thick, charged air of the closet, the closeness filling the small space with an intensity that made Brenwyn's pulse race. She felt every inch of him through the denim, her skin warming at the thought, her heart pounding as she struggled to keep her voice steady, the need to preserve some semblance of control warring with her urge to let go entirely.

Xander, though, didn't hold back. His hands tightened around her thighs as he lifted her effortlessly, pressing her back against the wall, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The strength in his grip caught her off guard, a thrill sparking in her as she felt the steady support of his hands. Was he always this strong? she wondered, but the thought quickly melted into something hazy and warm as he thrust upward, the friction sending a delicious jolt through her.

The fabric of their clothes added a rawness to every movement, the rough denim and soft cotton amplifying each sensation. She clung to him, fingers threading into his tousled brown hair as his face buried into her neck, his breath hot against her skin, rough with each inhale. His lips brushed her collarbone as she tilted her head back, gasping at the sensation, the pressure building with each deliberate shift of his hips.

The steady rhythm they created together, hips moving in tandem, sent waves of pleasure radiating through her. She felt herself slipping further, her thoughts dissolving, leaving only the feel of him against her, the warmth of his hands, the way he held her as if he couldn't bear to let her go. Her breaths mingled with his, the soft sounds escaping her blending with his low moans, filling the air between them.

With every thrust, a white-hot spark traveled up her spine, tingling along her skin, heightening every nerve, every inch of her. She was so close, each movement pushing her further toward the edge. Her body moved instinctively, matching his pace, driven by a shared desperation. The rhythm became almost hypnotic, a fevered dance that left her breathless, craving more.

A frustrated growl left his lips, and he somehow doubled his efforts, yanking her hips down against him, grinding hard. He rutted against her like a man starved, and the constant pressure on her clit was so much that she whimpered with every jostle. One of her hands clutched hard at his hair, the other went to her mouth to bite down on, trying to silence her needy whimpers. Her body went rigid at the peaking pleasure that came in waves, ripped from her - or perhaps prolonged - by Xander's unhalting rhythm. It took her a few seconds to come down from her high, and when she did, she realized he's slowed to a halt, breathing hard.

"That was . . . " she starts, unsure now of what to say.

"Wow," Xander said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. His hand, still resting gently on her waist, gave a light squeeze, grounding them both in the surreal intimacy of the moment.

Brenwyn let out a soft, breathless laugh, her thumb tracing gentle circles along his cheek as her gaze wandered over his face, memorizing every detail. "I... I don't usually do things like this," she admitted, her voice tinged with both vulnerability and a hint of exhilaration.

"Neither do I," Xander replied, his grin a mixture of delight and disbelief. "I mean, my usual moves don't exactly include being whisked into closets and kissed by amazing girls." He chuckled, his hand moving to lightly brush a strand of hair from her face, the touch gentle and reverent.

Brenwyn smiled, her cheeks flushed, heart pounding as if in rhythm with his. "Guess we're both breaking new ground," she murmured, her fingers still lightly tangled in his hair.

A comfortable silence fell between them, both savoring the stillness, the vulnerability, the sheer warmth of being so close. Finally, Brenwyn took a small step back, her fingers slipping from his hair as reality slowly filtered back in. "We should probably… get to class," she said, though she made no move to leave.

"Yeah," Xander agreed, though his gaze remained fixed on her. He seemed to struggle to pull himself back to the real world, his hand still lingering at her waist. "I mean, who really needs chemistry class when we've clearly mastered it right here?" He grinned, his eyes lighting up with playful warmth.

Brenwyn laughed, a soft sound that seemed to echo in the small space around them. "That's true," she said, her voice laced with a sweetness that lingered even as they reluctantly separated. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, her eyes lingering on his.

As they stepped out of the closet, the normal sounds of the school washed over them, and they exchanged one last look - soft, knowing, and entirely theirs - before heading down the hallway, side by side. The world outside resumed its usual rhythm, but for them, everything felt just a little bit different, a little bit brighter.

The Summers' Residence - The Kitchen

The morning sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting a warm, golden glow over the tidy space. Joyce Summers stood by the sink, clearing the breakfast plates, the faint clink of dishware the only sound breaking the peaceful quiet. The kitchen was cozy, with soft light illuminating the counters, where an open birthday card lay next to Buffy's place at the table. Buffy, slinging her bag over her shoulder, was getting ready to leave for school, her movements quick and energetic.

Joyce glanced over her shoulder, a smile playing on her lips. "Mall trip for your birthday on Saturday. Don't forget."

Buffy flashed a grin, her voice playful. "Skip out on a mom-sponsored shopping opportunity? Not likely."

Joyce laughed softly, placing another plate on the counter. "So, does seventeen feel any different than sixteen?"

Buffy paused, as though considering the question with mock seriousness. "Funny you should ask. I actually woke up feeling more mature, responsible, and level-headed."

Joyce raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing but with a hint of suspicion. "Really? That's uncanny."

"And yet, true," Buffy continued, her voice light and confident. "I now possess the qualities one looks for in a licensed driver."

Joyce turned fully now, hands on her hips, her expression softening into a familiar look of concern. "Buffy."

"You said we could talk about it again when I was seventeen," Buffy reminded her, trying her best to maintain a hopeful tone.

"You've been seventeen for all of forty-eight minutes," Joyce replied, her smile fading into something more serious.

"And?" Buffy pressed, the slightest edge of impatience creeping into her voice.

Joyce sighed, setting down the dish in her hand. "First of all, you promised you'd stay out of trouble at school."

Buffy's smile faltered, but she shrugged, attempting to downplay the concern. "I try. You know I do. But Principal Snyder has it in for me—"

"I know," Joyce interrupted, her voice gentle but firm. "But… you behind the wheel, it worries me."

Buffy crossed her arms, her eyes softening as she met her mother's gaze. "It worries all moms. It's a biological imperative. But I'm going to drive sooner or later, so we might as well deal with it sooner, right?"

Joyce turned toward her daughter, holding a plate in her hand, and for a moment, something about the scene struck Buffy. The pose, the way her mother stood, even the expression on her face: it all matched the haunting image from her dream. The weight of déjà vu pressed down on her chest, the familiarity of the moment sending a shiver up her spine.

"Do you really think you're ready, Buffy?" Joyce asked, her voice echoing the same words from Buffy's dream.

Before Buffy could respond, the plate slipped from Joyce's grasp, shattering on the floor with a sharp, piercing sound. The noise jolted Buffy from her reverie, her heart racing as she stared at the broken pieces scattered across the floor.

"Oh, damn it," Joyce muttered, bending down to pick up the shards of porcelain.

Buffy stood frozen, the eerie sensation of reliving her dream leaving her momentarily paralyzed. Her pulse thrummed in her ears as she watched her mother kneeling on the floor, the scene playing out exactly as it had in her nightmare.

"Grab the broom, would you, Buffy?" Joyce asked, her voice calm despite the accident.

But Buffy didn't move. She couldn't. Her mind was racing, struggling to shake off the unsettling feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Joyce glanced up, confused by the silence, only to find the space where her daughter had stood empty. The back door slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the kitchen. Joyce straightened, staring after Buffy's swift exit, a frown creasing her brow.

She stood there for a moment, puzzled, the broken plate forgotten as she gazed out the door, wondering what had spooked her daughter so suddenly. The morning light bathed the room in warmth, but an uneasy tension lingered in the air, the shattered plate a silent witness to the strange, fleeting moment between them.

Sunnydale High - Jenny's Classroom

Ms. Jenny Calendar entered her dimly lit classroom, balancing her bag, a stack of books, and a steaming cup of coffee in her arms. The faint hum of computers filled the air, the familiar whirring of machines a small comfort in the early morning stillness. Setting her things down near one of the terminals, she reached out and turned on the computer, its screen flickering to life in the otherwise quiet room.

"Jenny. Jenny Calendar…" The voice came out of nowhere, making Jenny spin on her heels, her heart skipping a beat. Standing by her desk, an old man, dressed in a dark coat, examined the nameplate on her desk. His deep-set eyes gleamed with a quiet intensity, and his accent - thick, distinctly Yugoslavian - sent a chill down her spine. Jenny's throat tightened as recognition dawned on her.

"Uncle," she whispered, still catching her breath. "You startled me."

The man, her uncle, gave her a long, measured look. "You look well. Comfortable," he said, his voice laced with disapproval.

Jenny felt a wave of discomfort wash over her, the familiar weight of duty pressing heavily on her shoulders. She tried to regain her composure, but the tension between them was palpable.

"Yes," she replied, her voice faltering slightly. "I'm fine. I—I know I haven't written as much lately. I've been… busy."

Her uncle's eyes darkened, a flicker of disappointment in them. "I cannot imagine what is so important that you ignore your responsibility to your people."

The words stung, sharp, and accusatory. Jenny shifted uneasily, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk as she tried to explain. "I've been working. And… distracted," she muttered. "I'm sorry."

Her uncle's expression remained hard, unyielding. "The elder woman has been reading the signs. Something is different," he said, stepping closer, his voice lowering with ominous intent.

Jenny's heart skipped a beat. "Nothing's changed," she insisted, her voice rising slightly in defense. "The curse still holds. Angel is still tortured by all that he's done."

But her uncle shook his head, his gaze cutting through her like a knife. "No. The elder woman is never wrong. She says his pain is lessening. She feels it."

The room seemed to grow colder, the tension wrapping around Jenny like a noose. She could feel her pulse quickening, the dread mounting inside her as she realized she could no longer keep the truth hidden. "There is…" Jenny hesitated, the words catching in her throat. "There is… a girl."

Her uncle's face twisted with fury, his eyes burning with an anger she hadn't seen in years. He stepped closer, his voice seething with disbelief. "What?" he growled. "How could you let this happen?"

Jenny recoiled, her stomach churning. "I promise you, Angel still suffers," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "He makes amends for his evil. He even saved my life."

But her uncle's expression remained unmoved, his voice rising with righteous anger. "So you just forget?" he spat. "That he destroyed the most beloved daughter of our tribe? That he killed every man, woman, and child who touched her life? Vengeance demands that his pain be eternal, as ours is."

Jenny's eyes filled with guilt, her heart heavy with the burden of the past. "I haven't forgotten," she whispered, but her words sounded hollow.

Her uncle leaned in, his gaze burning into hers. "If this… girl… brings him even one minute of happiness, that is one minute too many."

"I'm sorry," Jenny stammered, her resolve crumbling beneath his fury. "I thought…"

"What? That you are Jenny Calendar now?" Her uncle's voice dripped with disdain. "You are still Janna of the Kalderash people. A gypsy."

Jenny's breath caught in her throat as she looked away, shame washing over her. "I know, Uncle," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "I know."

Her uncle straightened, his expression unyielding. "Then prove it," he demanded coldly. "Your time for watching is over. The girl and him: it ends now. No matter what you must do, take her from him."

Jenny's heart clenched at the ultimatum, her mind spinning with the impossible weight of her task. "I—I will see to it," she managed, her voice weak, the words hollow.

Her uncle gave a curt nod of approval, the shadow of his presence still looming large. "Good," he said, his tone final.

Without another word, he turned and exited the classroom, leaving Jenny standing alone amidst the flickering glow of the computer screens. She stared after him, her hands trembling, her chest tight with dread. The weight of her family's curse bore down on her like never before, and as the door swung shut behind him, the room seemed to close in around her, suffocating in its stillness.

Sunnydale High - The Student Lounge

The sunlight streamed through the windows of the Sunnydale High lounge, casting a soft glow across the floor as Xander, Brenwyn, and Willow stood by the snack machine. The low hum of the machine buzzed in the background as Willow fed coins into it, her expression thoughtful as she turned to her friends.

"We're all set," Willow said, a note of excitement in her voice. "I've got all the decorations. And I think Cordelia's bringing snacks and stuff."

Brenwyn, shifting her shoulder bag and glancing toward Xander, chimed in with a teasing smile. "Yeah, she said she was. Which was thoughtful. Don't you think? Cordelia: not as horrible a person as we once thought? I mean, she's obviously trying to be helpful."

Willow paused, considering Brenwyn's words as she tapped her fingers lightly against the machine. "True," she mused, then added thoughtfully, "Maybe…"

Xander, leaning casually against the machine with a skeptical expression, raised an eyebrow at them. "But, you wouldn't ever, like, be able to be friends with her or something?"

Willow smirked, glancing at Xander. "You mean, like, hang out and take Cosmo quizzes together?"

"No, I mean actually elect to be in her presence," Xander clarified, crossing his arms as he looked at Willow expectantly.

Willow's gaze drifted down the hallway, where a familiar sight caught her attention. "I don't know. She's better, but she's still Cordelia. Just... look."

Cordelia, along with Harmony and a few other Cordettes, entered the hall, their presence immediately marked by high-pitched squeals of excitement. They jumped up and down, greeting each other as if they hadn't met in years. Cordelia, ever the center of attention, spun dramatically to show off her new mini-dress, her friends showering her with admiration.

Willow raised her eyebrows, gesturing toward the scene. "Example: what is the shrieking thing? They saw each other yesterday. And now, watch. Cordelia's going to model her new outfit."

Sure enough, Cordelia did another spin, her skirt flaring out as she showed off her attire.

"Note the reaction, like Cordelia invented clothes," Willow added dryly. "They're not bad people, Xander. It's just, we are of two worlds. And theirs... theirs is bad."

Brenwyn chuckled softly at Willow's words, while Xander let out a laugh.

"Right. Of course, you're right," Xander said with a grin. "What was I thinking?"

Before Willow could respond, Oz approached the group, his laid-back demeanor apparent as always. Willow's face lit up as soon as she saw him, a shy yet happy smile crossing her face.

"Hey," Oz greeted, his tone casual.

"Hey," Willow replied, her voice a little breathless. "So, tonight?"

"I'm there," Oz said, giving a small nod. "Feeling surprise-y." He paused for a moment before adding, "Can I pick you up?"

Xander watched the interaction closely, clearly unsure what to make of it, while Brenwyn smiled knowingly.

"Yeah, that would be... here." Willow quickly scribbled down her address on a piece of paper, tearing it from her notebook and handing it to Oz.

Oz took the slip of paper, his expression pleased. "I have your address."

"You do," Willow confirmed, her heart racing slightly.

"Excellent," Oz said with a small smile before walking off.

As Oz disappeared down the hallway, Brenwyn squealed, her excitement bubbling over. "Oh my goodness! Tell me everything!"

Sunnydale High - The Library

The Sunnydale High library was bathed in soft, golden light as Buffy and Giles stood in deep conversation. The atmosphere between them was tense, with Buffy pacing slightly as she spoke, her voice low but urgent.

"...and then my mom broke the plate," Buffy continued, her brow furrowed with worry. "It was exactly like I saw it in my dream, Giles. Every gesture. Every word. Beyond creepy."

Giles stood nearby, his arms crossed, listening intently. His brow furrowed in thought as he considered the gravity of her words. "Yes," he replied, his voice measured and calm, "I'd imagine that would be... unsettling."

Before the conversation could go further, the door to the library swung open, and the familiar sounds of Willow, Brenwyn, and Xander filled the room. They walked in, chatting, unaware of the tension in the air until they spotted Buffy.

Xander's face lit up when he saw her, and with a wide grin, he called out, "Hey! The woman of the hour!"

Willow, following close behind, added cheerfully, "It's happy birthday, Buffy!"

Brenwyn chimed in with a smile, "Congrats!"

They moved toward Buffy, arms outstretched, ready to embrace her. But as they drew closer, they sensed something was off. Buffy's posture was rigid, her expression tight with worry.

Willow, always attuned to her friend's mood, hesitated. "Not... happy birthday, Buffy?" she asked, her voice soft with concern.

Giles stepped in, addressing the others as he closed the book he'd been holding. "It's just... A piece of the nightmare Buffy had the other night actually came to pass."

The lightness in the room faded instantly. Xander's playful smile dropped, replaced by a look of concern. "Something happen to Angel?" he asked, his tone more serious now.

Buffy shook her head, though the unease was clear in her eyes. "He's fine. For now," she answered, her voice heavy with the weight of her fears. "But if part of what I had a dream about came true..."

Willow, catching the thread of Buffy's worry, finished the thought. "Then all of it may come true."

Buffy nodded, her gaze shifting to Giles. "And Drusilla might be alive," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she recalled the dream. "In the dream, I couldn't stop her. She blindsided me, Giles. Angel was dead before I even knew what was happening."

Giles adjusted his glasses, his mind already working through the possibilities. "Even if she is alive, we can still protect Angel. Dreams are not prophecies, Buffy," he reminded her gently. "You dreamt the Master had risen, but you stopped it from happening."

Xander, ever the one to lighten the mood, grinned and chimed in, "You ground his bones to make your bread."

Buffy allowed a small, brief smile to tug at her lips. "That's true," she replied, "except for the bread part. I guess we're one step ahead." She glanced at Giles, her expression growing more serious again. "But, Giles, I'd like to stay that way."

Giles nodded firmly. "Absolutely. Let me read up on Drusilla, and see if she has any particular patterns. Why don't you meet me here at seven? We'll map out a strategy."

Buffy slung her book bag over her shoulder, her movements brisk. "Okay. What do I do till then?"

Giles offered a small, reassuring smile. "Go to class… do your homework… have supper…"

Buffy sighed, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "Oh, right. Be that Buffy."

Without another word, she turned and walked out of the library, her footsteps echoing in the quiet room as the others watched her go. Xander's brow furrowed as he watched her retreating form.

"That is not a perky birthday puppy," Xander commented, concern laced in his voice.

Willow's shoulders slumped slightly. "So much for our surprise party," she muttered, her earlier excitement deflating.

Xander sighed, glancing over at Brenwyn. "Man. This Slayer gig is 24/7. Can't even stop for a little piñata-bashing."

Brenwyn, clearly disappointed, began gathering her things, her expression crestfallen. "I bought little hats and everything," she said softly. "Oh well, I'll tell Cordelia."

Giles, ever practical, interjected. "No, you won't," he said firmly. "We're having the party tonight."

Xander blinked in surprise, glancing at Giles with a raised brow. "It looks like Mr. Caution Man is talking, but the sound he makes is funny."

Giles straightened, adjusting his jacket as he responded, "Buffy's surprise party is going to go exactly as we've planned." He cast a glance at Brenwyn, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Except I won't be wearing the little hat."

Xander grinned, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "He has dignity."

Willow's brow furrowed with concern as she thought of Buffy and Angel. "But Buffy and Angel—"

Giles cut her off, his voice calm but firm. "May well be in danger. As they have been before, and, I imagine, will be again. One thing I have learned in my tenure here on the Hellmouth is that there is never a good time to relax. But Buffy is only turning seventeen this once. She deserves a party."

Xander, clearly impressed, crossed his arms and smiled. "You're a great man of our time, Giles."

Willow's expression softened, a smile tugging at her lips. "And anyway, Angel's coming. So, she'll be able to protect him and have cake."

Giles nodded, his tone lightening just a touch. "Precisely."

Sunnydale High - The Hallway

The school hallway lay shrouded in shadows, the quiet only broken by the faint echo of Buffy's footsteps as she approached the library. She was here for her meeting with Giles, her mind already focused on strategy, when a figure stepped out from the shadows, causing her to jump.

"Buffy," Jenny Calendar greeted her, her voice calm but carrying an edge.

Buffy placed a hand over her heart, steadying her breath. "God, I didn't see you there," she replied, her voice slightly breathless.

"Sorry…" Jenny's voice held a strange tone, as if something were weighing on her. She straightened. "Giles wanted me to tell you there's been a change of plans. He asked to meet you somewhere closer to his house. I guess he had to run home to grab a book or something."

Buffy's brow arched, humor edging into her tone. "Yeah, 'cause heaven knows there aren't enough books in the library."

Jenny gave a small smile. "He's… very thorough."

Buffy chuckled softly. "Which isn't a bad thing. It's kinda manly, in an obsessive-compulsive sort of way, don't you think?"

Jenny offered a faint smile, but her gaze was distant. "I have my car," she said, gesturing to the nearby exit. "I can drive you if you'd like."

Buffy hesitated a moment, then shrugged. "Okay…"

Together, they turned and made their way out of the school, the sounds of their footsteps fading into the silent night.

Buffy sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the car hummed through the quiet streets of Sunnydale. Streetlights flashed by in intervals, casting brief patches of light across her face. Jenny's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles pale under the dashboard's glow, her expression tense and preoccupied.

"So… where are we headed, anyway?" Buffy asked, her tone casual.

Jenny didn't answer, her eyes fixed straight ahead as though deep in thought.

The car slowed as it turned into a dimly lit alley behind The Bronze. Shadows pooled in the corners, and the faint hum of music from inside The Bronze was barely audible over the car's engine.

Buffy glanced around, frowning as she took in the dark surroundings. "We're going to The Bronze?" she asked, her tone tinged with confusion.

Jenny glanced at her, her tone tense. "I'm not sure. Giles gave me an address. I'm just following his directions."

As Buffy looked out the window, her gaze sharpened. A flicker of movement caught her eye near the loading dock, and her Slayer senses tingled with warning.

"Uh-oh," she muttered, her posture instantly alert.

Jenny glanced at her nervously. "What?"

A group of three shadowy figures stood near the loading dock, glancing around furtively as they maneuvered a large, rectangular cast iron box toward a waiting truck. The box's metallic sheen glinted under the alley's dim light.

Buffy's gaze stayed fixed on the scene outside as she spoke, her voice calm but firm. "This looks funky. Stop for a sec."

Jenny tightened her grip on the steering wheel, clearly uneasy. "Buffy, maybe you shouldn't."

Buffy glanced back at her with a smirk. "Sorry. Sacred duty, yadda, yadda, yadda…" She opened the car door and slipped out into the night, leaving Jenny watching her with a look of growing apprehension.

As Jenny murmured to herself, "What is this…?" her gaze remained fixed on Buffy, worry etched into her features.

Buffy moved swiftly and silently, her steps muffled by the darkness as she approached the figures near the loading dock. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of one of the men—a vampire she recognized immediately. Dalton. His vampiric features were unmistakable, his gaze shifty as he glanced around, clearly on high alert. Buffy stepped forward, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Every time I see you, you're stealing something. You should really talk to somebody about this klepto issue."

Dalton whirled to face her, but before he could react, a hulking vampire lunged out of the shadows, swinging a powerful fist at Buffy. She sidestepped, narrowly dodging the blow, her movements quick and precise. She threw a punch, landing it squarely on the vampire's jaw, but a loud rumble caught her attention—the truck engine roared to life, and she looked over to see Dalton scrambling into the back of the truck, struggling to close the cargo gate over the box.

In one fluid motion, Buffy leapt toward the truck, sprinting to the driver's side. She yanked open the door, startling the vampire behind the wheel. Without hesitation, she plunged her stake into his chest, dusting him before he could even react. His grip on the wheel loosened as he disintegrated, leaving the engine idling without a driver. Breathing hard, Buffy turned her focus to the back of the truck. She spotted Dalton struggling to secure the box and lunged toward him. Sensing he was outmatched, Dalton gave up on the box and darted into the shadows, leaving her alone with the iron container. Buffy took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes scanning the alley as she prepared to pursue him.

But before she could move, a dark figure loomed behind her—the hulking vampire, still intent on finishing what he'd started. Buffy barely had time to turn before he was on her, his fists swinging with brute force.

The Bronze

The Bronze was empty and dark, save for Giles, Willow, Oz, Xander, Brenwyn, Cordelia, and Angel, who huddled quietly amid streamers and balloons. Every corner of the club was decorated for Buffy's birthday, giving the space a surreal feeling of celebration mingling with silence. Angel glanced anxiously at the clock on the wall, his brows furrowed.

"Where is she?" he asked, worry threading his voice.

Just then, a muffled commotion sounded from behind the back wall of The Bronze.

Willow leaned forward, eyes wide. "Shhh! I think I hear her coming."

Meanwhile, outside, Buffy was locked in fierce combat with a hulking vampire on the loading dock. They traded blows, and though she managed to knock him back, he was relentless, surging forward to body-slam her with full force.

Back inside the Bronze, the group held their breath, waiting in tense silence for Buffy's arrival. Suddenly, a crash shattered the quiet: Buffy and the vampire came barreling through the window behind the stage in an explosion of glass. They tumbled onto the stage, grappling fiercely. Buffy regained control, swiftly staking the vampire. He disintegrated into dust, and for a moment, stunned silence filled the room.

Then Cordelia, who had been hiding behind a couch, popped up, hands outstretched. "Surprise!"

Oz glanced around at the wreckage. "That pretty much sums it up."

Buffy, breathless and a bit dazed, took in the decorations, still processing the shock of her arrival.

Angel was instantly by her side. "Buffy, are you okay?"

Giles's concerned gaze swept over her. "Yes, what happened?"

Buffy took a steadying breath, brushing dust from her clothes. "There were vamps in the alley. One of Drusilla's guys was—" She paused, her eyes narrowing as she finally noticed the decorations and everyone's expectant expressions. "What's going on?"

Giles attempted a somewhat sheepish smile. "Surprise party."

Brenwyn stepped forward, her voice soft. "Yeah… happy birthday."

Buffy looked around at the decorations and her friends, a soft smile spreading across her face. "You guys did all this for me? You're so sweet!"

Angel studied her closely, his eyes still filled with worry. "You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied, though she couldn't hide the adrenaline still pulsing through her veins.

Oz continued staring at the stage where the vampire had turned to dust, his mouth slightly open in shock. Willow approached him, her expression full of concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently.

Oz blinked, nodding slowly. "Yeah… Did everyone else see a guy turn into dust?"

Willow gave him an awkward smile. "Uh, sort of…"

Xander stepped in, nonchalant. "Yep. Vampires are real, lots of 'em live in Sunnydale. Willow will fill you in."

Willow reached out to reassure him. "I know it's hard to accept at first…"

Oz shook his head, his expression shifting to one of calm understanding. "No, actually, it explains a lot."

Just then, Ms. Calendar entered, struggling to carry a heavy iron box left behind by the vamps. Her movements were strained, and she was visibly relieved when Giles and Angel rushed over to help, setting the box down on a nearby table.

"These creeps left this behind," Jenny said, slightly out of breath.

Buffy eyed the box suspiciously. "What is it?"

Giles frowned, his curiosity piqued. "I have no idea. Can it be opened?"

Buffy moved closer, feeling around the lid until she found a small release. "Feels like it has some kind of latch… There." Slowly, she lifted the lid. As everyone leaned in to see, a collective gasp escaped them; inside the box was a powerful, heavily armored arm. In a flash, the arm sprang from the box and latched onto Buffy's neck, squeezing with immense force. Angel rushed to her side, prying the fingers loose one by one until he could wrestle the arm back into the box, slamming the lid shut with a resounding thud. For a moment, stunned silence hung over the group as Buffy coughed, catching her breath.

Xander broke the silence with a smirk. "Clearly, the Hellmouth's answer to 'what do you get the Slayer who has everything?'"

Giles looked at Buffy, his expression fraught with concern. "Good heavens, Buffy, are you alright?"

Angel helped Buffy into a nearby chair, where she slumped, regaining her composure. "Man. That thing had a major grip."

Willow, her voice trembling, asked, "What… what was that?"

Oz, deadpan as always, responded, "Looked like an arm."

Still troubled, Angel approached the box, inspecting it closely, his expression darkening. "It can't be… She wouldn't…"

Xander crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "What? The vamp version of 'snakes in a can'? Care to share?"

Buffy saw the shadow of dread in Angel's eyes and stepped forward, her hand lightly touching his arm. "Angel?"

He took a deep breath, his tone heavy with foreboding. "It's a legend. Way before my time. A demon brought forth to rid the earth of humanity… separating the righteous from the wicked and burning the righteous down. They called him… The Judge."

The words struck a chord with Giles, whose face paled as he registered the name. "The Judge… This is he?"

Angel nodded grimly. "Well, not all of him…"

Buffy looked between them, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Uh, still needing backstory here…"

Giles cleared his throat, his tone solemn. "The Judge couldn't be killed. An army was sent against him; most of them perished, but eventually, they managed to dismember him… but not destroy him."

Angel nodded, adding, "They scattered the parts and buried them across the earth."

Xander, never missing a chance to lighten the mood, quipped, "You think they left his heart in San Francisco?"

Oz, catching the joke, leaned over to Xander and muttered, "I had that thought too."

Jenny crossed her arms, worry creasing her brow. "So… all these parts are being brought here?"

Buffy's face hardened with realization. "By Drusilla. The vamps outside—they were Spike's men."

Angel nodded, his expression grim. "She's just crazy enough to do it."

Willow's voice shook as she spoke. "Do what? Reassemble the Judge?"

Angel's voice was a dark whisper. "And bring forth Armageddon."

Cordelia glanced around, unbothered. "Is anyone else gonna have cake?" No one answered, and she quietly edged toward the dessert table, slicing a piece for herself.

Giles's gaze was fixed on the iron box. "We have to get this out of town. As far away as possible."

Jenny turned to Angel. "Angel…"

Buffy looked between them, realizing what they were suggesting. "What?"

Jenny's voice was steady. "You're the only one who can protect this thing, Angel."

Buffy's face fell. "What about me?"

Jenny offered her a sympathetic look. "Are you just going to skip town for a few months?"

Buffy's voice grew small. "Months?"

Angel nodded, regret etched in his features. "Jenny's right. I'll need to take this to the most remote location I can find."

Buffy clung to him with her gaze, her heart heavy. "But… that's not months, right?"

Angel looked away, conflicted. "I'll find a cargo ship to Asia… maybe trek to Nepal."

Buffy managed a weak smile. "You know, those wacky newfangled flying machines are a lot safer than they used to be…"

Angel shook his head, resolute. "I can't fly. There's no way to guarantee I'll avoid daylight." His eyes softened as he looked at her. "I don't like this any more than you do, Buffy. But there's no other way."

She looked up at him, her voice breaking. "But… it's my birthday."

Jenny stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Buffy's shoulder. "I'll drive you to the docks, Angel."

Buffy met Angel's gaze, and in that shared look, a world of pain and longing passed between them. This wasn't how the night was supposed to go, not with the decorations and balloons hanging lifelessly around them. They were supposed to be celebrating. Instead, Buffy faced the impending departure of the person she cared about most, the festive atmosphere now seeming hollow and distant.

With Angel and Buffy gone, a lingering heaviness filled the space they left behind. The streamers and balloons drooped in the dim light, casting shadows that seemed to underscore the somber mood. Everyone stood quietly, the festive decorations feeling like a strange contrast to the turn the night had taken.

Xander broke the silence, glancing around with a wry smile. "Well, that's not exactly how I imagined Buffy's party going."

Giles nodded, his expression tight with remorse. "No, it certainly isn't. Not quite the way I'd intended to mark her seventeenth birthday."

Over by the cake table, Brenwyn sighed, casting a look of longing at the untouched cake. She moved over to it, joining Cordelia, who had already cut herself a slice. Taking a plate, she picked up a fork and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully as her shoulders slumped. She muttered, half to herself, "Would've been nice if my magic actually helped for once. No vision, no warning... What's the point if it's just gonna be random?"

Giles turned to her, his face softening. "Brenwyn, you can't blame yourself for that. It's possible that the powers that be simply didn't see fit to give you a vision. After all, Buffy's dream was likely intended as the warning, and she did come to me with it." He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm afraid I may have been too quick to dismiss it. I should have taken her dream more seriously."

Willow stepped forward, her gaze warm and compassionate as she looked from Giles to Brenwyn. "Hey, none of this is your fault, Giles. Or yours, Brenwyn." She reached out, giving Brenwyn's arm a comforting squeeze. "Buffy had the dream, and she tried to protect Angel as best she could. We all did what we could."

Brenwyn's eyes met Willow's, and though her smile was small, it held a glimmer of appreciation. "Thanks, Will. I just wish I could've done more, you know?"

Willow nodded, her voice gentle as she continued, "I get it. But sometimes… things just happen. We did our best. That's what matters."

Xander, looking uncharacteristically serious, added with a nod toward Giles, "Yeah, G-man, you're always the one holding it together. Tonight was just one of those times when the universe decides to dump on us all at once. Doesn't mean it was anyone's fault."

Giles nodded, exhaling a deep breath, the lines on his face softening as he looked around at his friends. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he managed a small, grateful smile.

The tension in Giles's shoulders eased, and he managed a small, grateful smile. He took a breath, feeling the quiet but steady presence of the group around him.

Xander turned his attention to Brenwyn, who was still picking at her slice of cake, her eyes downcast. He walked over to her, reaching out to gently touch her hand. "Hey," he murmured, his voice low and reassuring, "it's not all on you, you know."

Brenwyn looked up, her eyes troubled. "I know, but it's hard not to think… if only I'd had some kind of warning, if I'd known something was coming—"

Xander shook his head, cutting her off with a soft smile. "Listen, you already do so much. You're amazing, Bren. Not every problem is meant to be solved by you, even if you have magic," he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "We're in this together. It doesn't have to be all on your shoulders."

Brenwyn's lips curved into a faint smile as she looked at him, feeling the warmth of his hand grounding her. "Thanks, Xander," she whispered. "I just… I want to protect everyone. And it's hard when I feel like my abilities don't cooperate when I need them to."

"Hey, I get it. But you're always here, ready to help, even if that means standing by the cake and doing… absolutely nothing," he said, trying to lighten her mood with a playful grin. "And you know what? That's enough. You're enough."

Brenwyn let out a small laugh, some of the tension easing from her face. "You really think so?"

"I know so." Xander gave her a comforting smile, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "And besides, if the world goes down tonight, at least we have cake."

She laughed softly, the sound lifting the spirits of everyone nearby. With Xander by her side, and Willow and Giles close by, Brenwyn began to feel the weight of the evening start to dissipate, replaced by the sense of comfort only friends could bring.

"Thank you," she said, looking at Xander, her smile finally reaching her eyes.

Sunnydale - The Docks

The docks were shrouded in darkness, the occasional lamplight casting a cold glow over the fog that lingered across the water. Angel moved carefully, the iron box clutched in his arms, while Buffy followed a step behind, her gaze steady but filled with a quiet worry. They halted near a massive cargo ship, still some distance from the gangplank. Angel set the box down gently, casting a glance back at Buffy.

"I should go the rest of the way alone," he murmured.

Buffy tried to muster a smile, attempting to be the brave soldier, but the expression faltered. "Okay…"

Angel looked at her, sensing her unease. "I'll be back," he promised, though his voice held a subtle hint of uncertainty.

Buffy gave a small nod, but her eyes betrayed her doubt. "When?" she asked softly. "Six months? A year? Who knows how long it will take… or if we'll even—"

"Even what?" he prompted, his gaze unwavering.

She hesitated, her voice breaking. "If you haven't noticed, there's always someone out there who wants us dead."

"Don't say that." He took a step closer to her, his eyes intense. "We'll be fine."

"But we don't know," she insisted, a quiet plea threading through her words.

"We can't know, Buffy," Angel replied, his voice tender. "Nobody can. That's just… the deal."

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of his words settling over them. Finally, Angel reached into his coat and pulled out a small box, his expression softening.

"I have something for you," he said. "For your birthday. I was going to give it to you earlier, but…" He trailed off as he handed her the box.

Buffy opened it carefully, revealing a delicate silver ring inside. Two hands clasped a heart, crowned above with intricate detail. She looked up at Angel, her face touched with surprise and wonder.

"It's beautiful."

Angel's gaze softened. "My people… before I was changed, they exchanged this as a sign of devotion." He swallowed, glancing at the ring. "It's a Claddagh ring. The hands represent friendship, the crown represents loyalty. And the heart…" His voice grew softer. "The heart means you belong to somebody."

Buffy looked up to see him lift his hand, where he wore a similar ring with the heart turned inward. He nodded toward her.

"Like this."

Buffy's fingers trembled as she put the ring on, the heart pointing inward. She looked down at it, then up at him, her eyes glistening. "Angel… I don't want to do this."

"Me either," he whispered, his voice laden with regret.

Her voice grew small, almost a plea. "So… don't go."

Their eyes met, both knowing he had no choice. He reached for her, pulling her close, and they shared a kiss—one that held all the unspoken words, the longing, the desperation, and the silent hope that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be their last.

"Buffy…" Angel's voice was choked with emotion, but he never finished. A sudden, thunderous noise interrupted them, echoing off the water.

From the shadows above, Dalton and two other vampires leaped down from a cargo net. The first vampire tackled Angel, forcing him back, while the second sent Buffy sprawling to the ground. Dalton's eyes gleamed as he lunged for the iron box.

"Angel! The box!" Buffy shouted, struggling to regain her footing.

Angel managed to throw off the first vampire, at least momentarily, and lunged toward Dalton. The iron box slipped from Dalton's grasp, clattering onto the dock as Angel tackled him. Meanwhile, Buffy found herself face-to-face with the second vampire, locked in a brutal fight. They traded fierce blows, but the vampire managed to throw her against a thick wooden pylon, sending a shudder through her body. She hit her head hard, momentarily dazed.

In a flash, the vampire swept her legs out from under her, and with a powerful kick, Buffy was sent sprawling off the edge of the dock, disappearing into the icy water below.

Angel turned at the sound of the splash, his face stricken. "Buffy?!"

But she was gone, her figure swallowed by the dark water below. He hesitated, torn between the box - now clutched in the hands of another vampire - and the sight of Buffy's form sinking beneath the waves. Finally, he released Dalton and dove off the dock, plunging into the water to save her.

Dalton, seeing his chance, snatched up the box and darted off into the night.

Sunnydale High - The Library

The library was dimly lit, a warm glow from the single desk lamp casting shadows over the numerous ancient books sprawled across the large table. Giles stood nearby, his expression tense as he glanced at his watch for the third time in as many minutes. Willow, Brenwyn, and Xander sat around the table, waiting with an uneasy silence filling the air. The quiet tick of the clock echoed through the room.

"They should be back by now…" Giles murmured, his voice laced with concern.

Brenwyn leaned forward, her fingers tracing a pattern on the table. "Maybe Buffy needed a few minutes to pull herself together." She paused, glancing down. "Poor Buffy. On her birthday and everything."

Xander sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair with a shrug. "It's sad. Granted. But let's look at the upside for a moment, okay?" He gestured as if framing an imaginary future. "What kind of life could she really have had with him? Working two jobs…Denny's waitress by day, Slayer by night. Meanwhile, Angel's always sprawled out in front of the TV, blood belly in full bloom, dreaming of the days when Buffy still thought the whole 'creature of the night' routine was hot."

Willow raised an eyebrow at him. "You've thought way too much about this."

Just then, the library doors swung open, and Buffy entered, looking refreshed in a clean outfit. The room stilled as all eyes turned toward her.

"What happened?" Giles asked, stepping forward, his gaze searching hers for answers.

Buffy's expression was somber. "Dru's guys ambushed us. They got the box."

Giles' face tightened with worry. "Where's Jenny?"

"She took Angel back to his apartment to get some dry clothes. I had some here." She pointed down at her new attire, clearly trying to keep her tone casual.

Xander crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "And you needed clothes because…?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "We got wet." She turned back to Giles. "Giles, what do we know?"

Giles rubbed his temples, exhaustion seeping into his voice. "The more I study the Judge, the less I like him." He gestured toward an old, leather-bound tome lying open on the table. "His touch can literally burn the humanity out of a person. A true creature of evil can survive the process. No human ever has."

Xander tried to lighten the mood, a half-grin spreading on his face. "So what's the problem? We send Cordy to fight this guy, and we all go for pizza."

Brenwyn smiled at him playfully, smacking his arm. "Be serious, Xander."

Buffy's brow creased as she leaned closer to Giles. "Can he be stopped? Without an army?"

Giles skimmed the text, his eyes narrowing as he read aloud. "'No weapon forged can kill him.' Not exactly comforting." He sighed. "But if we can keep them from fully assembling him…"

Buffy crossed her arms, thinking out loud. "We need to find his weak spots. And we need to figure out where they'd be hiding him."

"This could take time," Giles admitted, glancing around at the group.

Willow perked up, ready to take action. "We better do a round robin. Xander, you go first."

Buffy gave her an approving nod. "Good call."

Brenwyn's face lit with curiosity. "Round robin?"

Willow grinned. "Everybody calls everybody's mom and tells them they're at everybody else's house."

Buffy added, "Thus freeing us up for world-saving."

Willow feigned a mischievous glint in her eyes. "And all-night keggers." She glanced at their unamused expressions. "What, only Xander gets to make dumb jokes?"

Brenwyn gave a small, almost shy smile. "Uh, I don't need to 'round robin.' My dad works nights, so he won't notice I'm gone."

The clock on the library wall ticked softly, its hands pointing to 2:00 am as silence and fatigue blanketed the room. Willow, Brenwyn, and Xander sat around the large table, bleary-eyed as they pored over stacks of books and worn-out research papers, the dim lamp casting shadows over their tired faces. Jenny Calendar sat at the computer, her eyes focused and intent, fingers tapping lightly across the keys.

Xander rubbed his eyes, suppressing a yawn. "I think I read this already…" he muttered, flipping aimlessly through the pages of his book, barely seeing the words.

Willow looked up, her eyes gleaming with lingering excitement despite the late hour. "I can't get over how cool Oz was about all this," she said, a small smile on her lips.

Xander rolled his eyes. "Gee, I'm over it," he replied with a mock sigh, though a hint of a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Brenwyn shot him a gentle look of reproach, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "I think it's sweet you're so impressed by him," she teased. "I've never seen a no-maj react to anything supernatural like that before."

Willow tilted her head curiously. "A 'no-maj'?"

Brenwyn flushed, realizing she'd let her magical background slip. "Oh, uh… a non-magic user," she explained, her cheeks tinged with pink.

Across the room, Giles and Angel emerged from the shadowy stacks, heading toward Giles' office. Giles paused mid-step, noticing Buffy slumped over his desk, her head resting on her folded arms, the faint rise and fall of her shoulders the only sign of her exhaustion. A softness crept into Giles' expression as he observed her, and he backed away, lowering his voice. "It seems Buffy needed some rest," he murmured.

Angel's gaze lingered on Buffy, a touch of worry flickering in his eyes. "Yeah. She hasn't been sleeping well," he added quietly, glancing back at the others. "You know, tossing and turning."

Willow, Xander, Brenwyn, and Jenny looked at him, their expressions sharpening with suspicion. Angel cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably under their watchful eyes.

"She told me," he clarified quickly. "Because of her dreams."

Willow glanced around the table, sensing the tension building in the air. With a quick smile, she dove in to redirect everyone's attention. "So," she said brightly, tapping the cover of the book in front of her, "has anyone found anything useful about the Judge yet? Any weaknesses that aren't, you know, 'no weapon forged can kill him'?"

Jenny Calendar looked up from the computer screen, her fingers pausing over the keys. "Not much on my end, I'm afraid. Every reference I've found points to him being unstoppable by traditional means."

Willow pursed her lips, trying to keep the optimism alive. "Well, there's got to be something. I mean, we're still here, right? He was defeated once before." She looked around at the others, as if sheer positivity could spark the solution.

Giles emerged from his office, rubbing his temples. "Defeated, yes, but only temporarily. They didn't actually destroy him, just separated and buried the pieces." He sounded frustrated, and his brow creased as he scanned the open books on the table.

Brenwyn glanced at Willow with a sympathetic smile, then turned to Giles. "What about magic? Maybe something to at least weaken him, slow him down?"

Giles considered it, his face thoughtful. "Perhaps… though I'd be hesitant to rely solely on spells. If we can find any weakness or a way to prevent him from fully assembling, that may give us more of an advantage."

Willow nodded, her eyes widening with a new idea. "What if we keep the pieces apart? Like a warding spell on each piece that would prevent them from being rejoined?"

"That's not a bad idea," Giles said, his tone lifting with a hint of hope. "It may buy us time, at the very least."

Xander's face lit up, but he leaned back with a mock-serious expression. "There you go, Will. You're officially the brains of the operation."

Willow rolled her eyes, her smile growing. "I think that title belongs to Giles." She nudged Brenwyn gently, glad to see her friend perk up at the shift in conversation.

Brenwyn leaned over, catching Giles' gaze. "Should we start looking for spells that could keep the Judge's pieces apart?"

Giles's eyes sparked with purpose. "Yes, absolutely," he replied. "I believe I have a book that may be of use…" He started toward his office, his steps purposeful, but he froze in place at the sound of a sudden, sharp cry.

Brenwyn squeaked, her face going pale as she slumped back into her chair, overwhelmed by a vision: She wandered through a factory shrouded in eerie shadows. Black, tattered streamers hung from the ceiling like ghostly remnants of a celebration, and she pushed them aside, the decorations brushing her shoulders like spiderwebs. Ahead, a faint, swift figure moved, weaving through the streamers, barely visible.

"Hello? Who's there?" Brenwyn's voice echoed softly through the dim space, her tone both questioning and wary.

The figure paused, turning just enough for Brenwyn to recognize her face; it was Ms. Calendar. But before Brenwyn could react, Ms. Calendar slipped back into the shadows, disappearing as if she'd never been there. Confusion swelled in Brenwyn as she looked around and noticed cast iron boxes, placed in a tight circle on the factory floor. She reached out, her fingers brushing the cold metal, but a voice stopped her.

"Now, now," came a lilting, sing-song tone. "Hands off my presents."

Brenwyn's gaze darted upward, her eyes landing on Drusilla, who wore a look of wild, uncontained excitement. Drusilla's expression was almost childlike as she clapped her hands in delight.

"More music!" she called, her voice sharp with glee.

The room expanded in Brenwyn's vision, revealing a grotesque party in full swing. Vampires, dressed in finery that seemed both luxurious and macabre, reveled around her, glasses raised, laughter echoing. Spike appeared at Drusilla's side, wheeling over with a sly grin and holding a small iron box in his hands.

"Look what I have for you, ducks," he drawled, presenting the box like a precious gift.

Drusilla's eyes shone as she danced with Spike, their twisted waltz both unsettling and strangely sweet. The party continued around them, feverish and frenetic, until Drusilla pulled herself away and approached Angel, who was bound and weakened, a glint of fear in his eyes. She wrapped her hand around his neck, raising a gleaming knife and pressing it against his throat. Her hand was steady, and she began to drag the blade with a sinister slowness, a faint smile twisting her lips.

Brenwyn jolted awake, gasping for breath. She blinked, her vision clearing to find Xander's concerned face hovering just inches from her own. He was gently shaking her shoulder, his expression tight with worry.

"Brenwyn, you okay?" Xander asked, his voice soft but insistent.

She sat up, her gaze wild as she looked around, her heart pounding. "No! Angel!" she cried, her voice breaking.

Buffy's hand clamped protectively around Angel's arm, having awoken to Brenwyn's scream.

Angel patted Buffy's hand, stepping forward. "I'm okay, Brenwyn," he said quietly, his voice meant to reassure. But his face betrayed his worry as he watched her, both concerned and intrigued by her sudden outburst.

Still disoriented, Brenwyn turned and leaned into Xander's arms, her body trembling as she tried to shake the vision from her mind. Xander wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back in soothing circles. Gradually, she pulled herself upright, taking a deep breath, and with Xander's hand still resting on her shoulder, she looked up at the group, her voice steadier but still haunted.

"I think…" she began, her gaze shifting from Giles to Angel, "I think I know where Drusilla and Spike are."

Giles leaned in, his expression intense, as Brenwyn described her vision, her voice gaining strength and urgency with every detail. Her vivid recounting painted a dark, twisted picture of the factory, and Xander's hand on her arm served as an anchor, keeping her steady as she shared the eerie, chilling scene that had played out in her mind. By the time she was finished, Buffy was already on her feet, her gaze steely as she moved around the library, gathering weapons with swift, practiced hands.

"Buffy. Slow down," Giles urged, his voice gentle but firm.

Buffy didn't pause, her focus unwavering. "We know where Drusilla and Spike are, Giles."

"Yes, and it's very good to have that information," he replied, choosing his words carefully. "However, you need a plan. I know you're concerned, but you can't just go off half-cocked."

Buffy's eyes met his, fierce and determined. "I have a plan. Angel and I go to the factory to do recon - see how far they've gotten assembling the Judge. You guys fan out and check the spots where the boxes might be coming into town. Shipyards, the airport… We have to stop them from getting all the pieces in one place."

Giles blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Yes, well… That's actually quite a good plan."

"This thing is nasty and it's real, Giles," she said, her voice low and intense. "We don't have time to wait for it to come get us."

Without waiting for a response, Buffy strode toward the door, her resolve clear in every step. Angel trailed her, his expression equally resolute. A beat passed as Giles, Willow, Xander, and Brenwyn watched her go, the intensity of her command lingering in the air.

After a moment, Xander gently shifted his attention back to Brenwyn, who was still shaken, her hands trembling ever so slightly. He kept his hand on her arm, offering a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over her sleeve in a soothing rhythm.

"Hey," he murmured, tilting his head so he could catch her gaze. "Looks like you finally got that vision you were asking for. Maybe just a tad more intense than you'd bargained for?"

Brenwyn blinked, and a tiny, watery laugh escaped her lips. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, the faint trace of a smile breaking through the fear. "Yeah… I didn't exactly have 'creepy vampire party with boxes of dismembered demon' in mind."

Xander grinned, his eyes warm and gentle. "Next time, maybe ask for a vision of kittens or puppies. Less intense. Probably better for the heart."

Brenwyn's laugh grew a little stronger, and she shook her head, leaning into him. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

He gave her a comforting half-hug, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You know I'm here, right? So no more of those 'visions alone in a dark corner' plans. I'm your vision buddy now."

She let out another laugh, the tension easing from her frame as she relaxed against him. "Thanks, Xander. I'm glad I have you as my… vision buddy."

They stayed like that for a few moments, Xander's presence a warm anchor as Brenwyn's courage slowly steadied. In the quiet that followed, the fear that had gripped her finally loosened, replaced by a sense of calm that came from having him by her side.

Sunnydale - An Abandoned Factory

Buffy and Angel slipped quietly through the dark doorway, entering the shadowy balcony of the factory. The room below was cloaked in darkness, punctuated only by eerie red and yellow lights that cast long, unsettling shadows over the twisted decorations draped around the space. They pressed close to each other, staying out of sight as they took in the scene below, their voices hushed.

"Angel," Buffy whispered, glancing uneasily at the space below them, "maybe I should go in alone. I mean, my dreams… Brenwyn's vision..."

Angel shook his head firmly, his eyes flashing with resolve. "I'm not letting you go by yourself."

Buffy hesitated, knowing he wouldn't back down. "Okay," she conceded softly, then added, "but what do we do if the Judge is already put together?"

Angel's jaw tightened. "If he's assembled, we retreat. Together. Find the others and come up with a battle plan."

"Deal." She gave him a determined nod.

They crept forward, moving stealthily along the upper deck of the factory. Below them, the party had taken a more sinister turn. Vampires in tattered evening wear laughed and drank, reveling in the dark celebration. Buffy scanned the crowd, her heartbeat quickening as she noticed Spike, Drusilla, and the looming figure of the Judge moving across the room, the Judge's presence sending a chill up her spine. Suddenly, he stopped, as if sensing something.

Drusilla leaned in close to him, her pale, sinister face alight with curiosity. "What? What is it?" she murmured.

The Judge's gaze swept the room, then lifted, locking onto Buffy and Angel's hiding place above. Buffy's heart dropped.

"We have to get out of here," Angel whispered urgently, grabbing her hand.

They turned to head for the window, only to find two vampire minions blocking the way. Another two appeared behind them, trapping them on the balcony. Before they could react, the minions seized them, dragging Buffy and Angel to the room below. The vampires brought them before the Judge, who studied them with a cold, terrifying intensity. Spike grinned, clearly relishing the scene.

"Well, well. Look what we have here," he drawled, his eyes flashing with malicious amusement. "Party crashers."

Buffy, defiant, shot back, "I'm sure our invitations just got lost in the mail."

Drusilla floated forward, her fingers ghosting along Buffy's cheek, cold and unsettling. "It's delicious," she murmured with a gleeful smile. "I only dreamed you'd come."

Angel struggled against the vampires holding him. "Leave her alone!" he snarled.

Spike rolled his eyes, smirking. "Yeah, that'll work. Now say 'pretty please.'"

The Judge stepped forward, his gaze settling on Buffy with a predatory focus. "The girl," he rumbled, his deep voice carrying an edge of menace.

Drusilla clapped her hands in delight. "Chilling, isn't it? She's so full of good intention."

The Judge began to close in, his looming presence filling Buffy with an icy dread. Angel, breaking free of his captors, leapt between them, shielding her. "Take me!" he shouted. "Take me instead of her!"

The Judge looked down at him, unamused. Angel's body began to tremble, just as Dalton's had earlier.

Spike laughed, shaking his head. "You're not clear on the concept, pal. There is no 'instead.' Just first and second."

Drusilla's voice dripped with sadistic glee. "And if you go first, you don't get to watch the Slayer die."

The minions seized Angel once more, dragging him back as the Judge turned his attention to Buffy. She struggled, managing to land a powerful kick to the Judge's chest, but Angel's warning stopped her short.

"No, Buffy – don't touch him!"

A wave of cold energy shot through her, and Buffy's body began to tremble uncontrollably, weakness spreading through her limbs. Angel glanced up, spotting a cluster of heavy televisions hanging over the Judge's head, held by a rusted chain. With a surge of strength, he threw off his captors, diving for the chain and yanking it loose. The chain groaned, and the television set crashed down, shattering the floor beneath the Judge.

The collapsing floor revealed a dark sewer tunnel below, and in the confusion, Buffy managed to shake free from the vampires holding her. She darted to Angel, grabbing his arm. "This way!"

They jumped through the opening, landing heavily on the damp concrete below. Above them, Drusilla's shrill voice echoed. "Stop them!"

Buffy and Angel sprinted down the sewer tunnel, their footsteps splashing in the murky water as they ran. The tunnels were slick and rain-soaked, making every step treacherous. Behind them, the echoes of the pursuing vampires grew louder, but as they rounded a corner, Angel pulled her into a dark alcove, pressing close as the minions charged past, oblivious to their hiding place.

After a few tense moments, the sounds of their footsteps faded. Buffy took a shaky breath, peering up at Angel as they stepped out from the shadows and into the open air. The rain poured down, drenching them instantly, its coldness numbing the stinging cut on her back.

"I think we lost them," she whispered, though her voice trembled with exhaustion.

Angel's gaze softened as he took in her torn shirt and the thin stream of blood on her shoulder. "Come on," he murmured, wrapping a protective arm around her. "You need to get inside."

Buffy nodded, too weary to argue, letting him guide her through the darkness, his presence a steadying force in the chaos surrounding them.

Brenwyn's House

Brenwyn's little blue car pulled smoothly into the driveway, headlights briefly illuminating the front of her house before she turned off the engine. She glanced over at Xander in the passenger seat, a grateful look softening her expression.

"Thanks for agreeing to stay the night with me," she said, a hint of lingering unease in her voice. "I'm still kinda spooked, and... I just don't want to be alone."

Xander, attempting to mask his nervousness, gave her a reassuring smile. "No worries. What are boyfriends for if not heroic monster-slaying and expert comforting skills?"

Brenwyn grinned, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, so you are my boyfriend. I was wondering when we'd finally talk labels."

He shrugged, adopting a mock-serious tone. "Well, if you insist. Who am I to turn down the honor?"

She chuckled, "Come on, let's get inside before the rain starts picking up."

They dashed up the driveway to the porch just as the first few raindrops began to fall, each of them laughing as they fumbled with their damp shoes just inside the door. The cozy warmth of the house welcomed them in, a sharp contrast to the cool night air outside.

Brenwyn gestured down the hall, giving him a playful look. "Welcome to my humble abode. My room is this way."

They made their way through the house, and when they entered her bedroom, Xander took in the space with a mixture of fascination and admiration. Brenwyn's room was as vibrant and enchanting as she was, a subtle witchy aesthetic woven into every corner. The walls were painted a gentle sage green, and shelves adorned with crystals, dried herbs, and potted plants lined the walls, casting soft, leafy shadows under the glow of fairy lights strung above her bed. The lights bathed the room in a warm, golden hue, illuminating a beautiful tapestry of celestial symbols draped across one wall. It felt like stepping into another world: a serene, mystical retreat.

By the window, a vintage wooden dresser held an assortment of candles and small glass jars filled with dried lavender and rosemary. A tarot deck rested neatly in the corner, and the faint, earthy scent of incense mingled with the fresh aroma of the thriving plants. Xander noticed a small, round table by the window, covered with more witchy trinkets: a gleaming selenite tower, an amethyst cluster, and a silver moon-shaped mirror that reflected the fairy lights' gentle glow. Her desk held a few open spell books, along with a leather-bound journal, its pages filled with intricate sketches and notes on magical symbols.

Xander exhaled, feeling his initial jitters dissipate as he soaked in the calm, welcoming atmosphere of her room. "This is... amazing, Bren," he murmured, admiring the thoughtful arrangement of each detail.

Brenwyn beamed at him, a touch of pride in her eyes. "Thanks. It's kind of my little sanctuary."

Brenwyn and Xander settled on her bed, sinking into the cozy softness of the patchwork quilt beneath them. The rain had begun to pick up outside, tapping against the window in a rhythmic pattern that added a soothing backdrop to the otherwise tense conversation. They sat close, the warm glow from the fairy lights casting gentle shadows on their faces as they shared an unspoken comfort in each other's presence.

Xander sighed, running a hand through his hair, his usual humor absent. "I know Buffy's tough. I mean, if anyone can handle all this craziness, it's her. But The Judge... this is different. The way Giles talked about him, it's like he's unstoppable. No weapon forged? How are we supposed to stop something like that?"

Brenwyn nodded, worry creasing her brow. "I've been thinking about that, too. It's like every story I've ever read about evil supervillains, and now it's real, and Buffy's supposed to face it. It just…" She paused, searching for words as she fidgeted with the edge of her quilt. "It scares me. Not just for her, but for all of us. And for Angel, too. I mean, he almost left town to protect us. I just keep thinking, what if this thing is more powerful than we realize?"

Xander wrapped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Hey, you know what? We've faced some pretty awful things together, and we're still here. Yeah, The Judge is a big bad like nothing else, but Buffy has all of us. And if we need to fight, we'll find a way. We always do."

Brenwyn managed a small smile, resting her head on his shoulder. "You're right," she whispered, drawing strength from his steady presence. "I guess we'll just have to trust that we'll figure something out, like we always do. But I still wish I could do more. If only my powers were more… reliable. Maybe I'd be able to get another vision, something more helpful."

Xander chuckled softly, his tone lightening. "Hey, don't knock your powers. That last vision might have been creepy, but it got us closer to The Judge than anything else so far. You've got some serious mystical mojo, Bren. Without you, we'd all just be stumbling around in the dark."

She gave a quiet laugh, touched by his words. "Thank you, Xander. It helps to hear that." She reached for his hand, squeezing it as they sat in comfortable silence. The rain continued to patter against the window, and the soft golden glow from the fairy lights cast a warm, flickering light around them. Brenwyn felt her heart beat faster as she looked up at Xander, who seemed lost in thought, his gaze resting on their intertwined hands.

Brenwyn leaned closer, her eyes searching his face for a sign of the confidence and lightheartedness he so often wore like armor. But here, in the intimacy of her room, she saw his worry, his gentleness, and something else… a depth that matched her own. She hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering to his lips, before she let her instincts take over, closing the remaining distance between them.

Their lips met softly at first, the kiss tentative. She could feel his breath hitch slightly, and her heart fluttered in response. Xander's hand shifted, cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin, sending a warm shiver down her spine. The initial tenderness gave way to something deeper, a shared intensity they'd both been holding back. He drew her closer, their kiss growing more urgent.

Brenwyn's hand found its way to the back of his neck, her fingers threading gently through his hair as she leaned closer, feeling his warmth radiating against her. She took a steadying breath, channeling all the moments she had yearned for this closeness into one act of courage. Her eyes met his, seeking reassurance and finding only warmth and anticipation. Her fingers brushed lightly against him, tracing the fabric of his jeans, reaching for his belt. "Is this ok?"

Xander's breath hitched, and his gaze softened, half-lidded with a blend of excitement and surprise as he exhaled slowly, her other hand sliding over his bulge. "More than okay, way better than ok."

Moving her fingers around him, she felt every hard line of his erection straining into the fabric. She stared up at him with wonder as his face changed with her movements, his heart visibility erratic. She had to admit, it felt powerful to be like this—to watch as his jaw dropped open and his breath went ragged just by her fingers on jeans alone.

Brenwyn's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as she leaned closer, her voice soft and warm. "I have to admit something to you," she murmured, coyly. "I didn't want you to come over strictly because I was scared."

He let out a strangled laugh and tried to help her with his belt but she swatted him away. "I'm starting to put that together," he mumbled, his voice thick with a mixture of admiration and amusement.

His breath hitched as she undid his belt and zipper, her hand edging around the waistband of his underpants. She wrapped her palm around him and he hissed, his body arching forward as she gave him a small tug.

"Didn't realize you had it in you," he groaned out, his hands finding her neck and thumbs rubbing circles there.

"What?"

"This… naughtiness."

She pumped up his length and he let out a soft string of swear words."What can I say, you've been a bad influence."

She let him go, her touch slipping away, leaving him breathless and filled with a sudden, aching void. A soft gasp of disappointment escaped him, and his chest rose and fell as he tried to steady himself. But she only smiled—a sly, knowing curve of her lips that made his pulse quicken all over again. Slowly, she shifted back, her lithe form gliding gracefully along the bed, inch by inch, until she reached the headboard, her gaze never breaking from his.

He crawled after her, reaching her legs and pulling them apart at the knees, easily flipping up the skirt that had pooled down by her waist. He began dotting kisses into her inner thigh, each one more lavish than the next. "So," he asked, his voice low, a challenge in his eyes as he looked up at her. "What exactly did you plan to do? Seeing as this was all your orchestration?"

She didn't answer, instead melting under the heat of his mouth. He was relentless, giving open kisses up her thighs, letting his tongue slide over her skin as he went. Her lips parted slightly, a breathless sigh caught in her throat as she felt the heat of his mouth again and again, igniting every nerve with an intoxicating burn. She closed her eyes, surrendering for a moment, letting herself melt into the heat.

"Sleep, I suppose," she murmured, her voice softened to a whisper, a touch of mischief sparking behind her words.

He chuckled, "I think we're past the point of sleeping, Bren."

He was moving painfully slow, but she tried to savor it. His mouth nipped and teased as he got closer to the apex of her legs. It was the one thing she yearned for more than anything else: his mouth on her center.

"Is this ok?" He breathed into her inner thigh. Both of them could see the result of desire pooling between her legs and Xander stared shamelessly, wonder etched across his face.

"God, you are so wet…because of me?"

"Yes." Her voice turned into a moan as he bit down against the uppermost part of her thigh before licking over it to ease any pain. The newfound sight of her arousal awakened an urgency in him and his hands and mouth grew more erratic against her, trying to take as much of her in as he possibly can.

"Brenwyn, you have no idea. No idea how many nights I've dreamt of this."

She couldn't help but giggle at the teenage lust of it all. It was not like she was any better; before they even started dating she would wake up frusterated, body covered in sweat as she broke from a dream about him.

"Is it better or worse than you imagined?" She quipped and his mouth stilled. She looked down to catch his gaze burning up at her, a hand hovering dangerously close to her center.

"Don't even joke."

She planned to make another cheeky remark but was cut short by his mouth making contact with her underwear. He kissed her through the wet fabric, running his tongue into the grooves of her flesh. Her back arched for him instinctively and he used it as leverage to hold her body in a hovered state, palming her ass.

"Stars, Xander." She can feel him smile against her as he continues his ministrations, teeth pulling back the side of her underwear and slipping his tongue onto slick skin. The feeling made her gasp and he let out a small chuckle, pleased he was capable of making her react so viscerally.

"You are so lovely, so lovely."

A finger slid into her and it took everything to not let her head fall completely back. She didn't want to look away, completely mesmerized by how his tongue worked her clit while his fingers twisted inside her. He added another finger and she let out a cry.

"Xander, wait, I—" The feeling built faster than she could fight it. With one last lick, she was sent over the edge, grasping onto his hair and her legs squeezed around him.

"Oh fuck—Bren—" his eyes were wide, watching as she shuddered through the last of her climax. She pulled at his shoulders and he rose back up, wiping his mouth with his shirt.

"That was incredible… I can't even describe it." He genuinely looked dumbstruck.

She watched him catch his breath, a hand caressing his leg slowly as he smiled back at her.

"Bren—" He starts in, but she was already ahead of him. Sitting up, she pulled her sweater over her head, causing a rush of cold hit her bare breasts. Anything he was about to say got stuck in his throat at the sight of her.

"Can I—"

"Touch them? Yes." Brenwyn cut him off.

"No. Can I take off my clothes too?" His eyes blazed raw and hopeful, and she felt the blood rush through her body, giving her the bravery she needed to move her hands back to his unbuttoned jeans and tug them down. His lips crashed onto hers, and she could feel the hard line of his body pressing into her chest as he cupped her face with one hand and helped ease his pants off with another. Just as quick, he removed his shirt, letting their bare chests slide together, his skin burning.

"Bren, Bren, Bren." He said her name like a prayer, kissing down the column of her neck until he reached one of her breasts. She arched up as his tongue swirled around her nipple, somehow finding new ways for her to feel impossibly good.

She couldn't get enough of him, the feverish heat of his skin, the sturdy pulse of his body. She knew she was breathing yet it felt like there wasn't enough air for the two of them, the sound of the storm just adding to the fervent nature of their movements.

He sat up slightly, unbuttoned her skirt, and pulled it and her underwear down with a tug. He rose up to look at her, his eyes brimming with awe. "You are so beautiful."

It was something she'd seen people say in movies, but she could tell the words held all the sincerity in the world. His eyes were wide, trying to commit every part of her to memory, his hand lightly grazing her hip as he took her in. Satisfied, he dropped down to capture her mouth in a searing kiss, a smile evident on his lips.

"Bren, I mean it", he gaspped out when he broke for air. "You're gorgeous."

"So are you," she breathed against his lips.

He closed in for another kiss, his lips soft but urgent. Through the haze she sensed some shuffling at their waists until she could feel the bare skin of his arousal pressing in against her, warm and throbbing.

"Wait, I want to see you too."

She wiggled her way out from under him and he obliged, falling onto his back. It was her turn to regard him. He was muscular and broad, and she held back a gasp when she finally saw his dick, hard and erect with the smallest bit of liquid crowning at the tip.

"I did that?" She asked, knowing how childish it sounded.

"You're killing me, Bren. C'mere." Xander teased, squeezing her thigh.

She put a leg over his hips and settled down against him. His dick slid easily into her folds and they both groaned in approval.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," She answered quickly, rolling her hips forward until she could feel his tip lining up with her entrance. His head fell back, but his eyes refuse to leave hers.

"Let me lead," she said, not waiting another second to slide herself onto him.

A gasp escaped her lips as her body stretched around him, learning to accommodate the new sensation. She stalled, rocking her hips slightly to let the smallest bit of him slide in and out of her, testing the waters before daring to continue further. He grabbed onto her thighs, following her rhythm as she moved back and forth, eyes dark and adoring. Deep sighs escaped his throat with each small movement, reassuring her to keep going.

They continued like this until she had pushed him fully inside. Her hips moved more languorously, waving up and down the length of him in steady movements. Her mouth hung open, trying to take full breaths between the noises that kept pouring out of her mouth with every thrust.

"Xander - fuck."

He leaned forward and took one of her breasts into his mouth, and she cried from the over stimulation of it all. It felt better than anything she ever could have imagined. They were utterly complete, moving as one.

Xander grabbed her torso and carefully flipped them over without slipping out of her. With the upperhand, he was able to press deeper, hitting a ball of nerves tucked deep inside her that made her clench in ecstasy.

When he was not moaning hot kisses into her breasts or neck, he was watching her, keeping a steady gaze on her face to make sure that she was enjoying every single moment as much as he was. Strings of words chanted out of his mouth—some affirmations, some swears, some just her name over and over until it sounded like a foreign language.

"Bren, I won't last much longer, I want you to come for me."

It was instinctual. She reached one hand between her legs to rub her clit while the other cupped the curve of her breast, jutting it outwards as an offering to his mouth. His eyes grew impossibly darker, ducking down to take her tit between his teeth.

Her second climax was more violent than the first. She could feel herself squeezing around him, her whole body seizing up until it felt like a rubber band in mid snap. He held her against him, breathing onto her chest as he continued his rhythm through her release.

"So beautiful, so good. Bren, I can feel it."

It sent him over the edge. His hips snapped forward, erratic and urgent. Slick with the sweat of her climax, she grabbed both of his cheeks and forced him to look at her, his eyes drowning in desire and anticipation.

"Come for me Xander."

"Bren—" He looked unsure, but he was losing time. She could feel his body quivering.

"I take the pill. It's fine. Please, Xand."

"Bren - ah." She felt his release instantaneously. With a sigh, he collapsed on her, hands dancing across her collar bone as he caught his breath into her shoulder.

"Incredible. You're just—" he didn't finish his thought, opting to press his lips gently into her neck.

She wrapped her arms around him. He was sweaty and heaving and hers. They laid in each other's arms, feeling their heart beats go from wild to steady, hands lazily tracing the other's skin.

Angel's Apartment

Buffy and Angel entered his dimly lit apartment, the quiet warmth inside a stark contrast to the chill of the rain-soaked streets outside. Angel flicked on a few lamps, casting a gentle, amber glow over the room, his gaze falling on Buffy as he took in her shivering form.

"You're shaking like a leaf," he said, concern filling his eyes.

Buffy hugged her arms around herself, her damp clothes clinging to her skin. "Cold," she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Angel nodded, moving to his wardrobe. "Let me get you something." He pulled out a soft, well-worn shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants, crossing back to her with a gentle smile. Guiding her toward his bed, he gestured for her to sit. "Put these on and get under the covers. Just to warm up."

Buffy took the clothes, giving him a small, grateful nod. When she hesitated, he caught on, a faint flush of awareness in his expression. "Sorry," he murmured, turning his back to give her privacy.

As she started to remove her shirt, a sharp pain shot through her shoulder, making her wince and catch her breath.

He noticed her silence. "What's wrong?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder, worry etched across his face.

"I think... I got cut, or something, on my back," she admitted softly.

Angel approached her, a gentle, steadying presence as he sat beside her on the edge of the bed. "Let me see," he offered, his voice low and soothing.

Buffy nodded, holding her shirt loosely around herself, giving him access to the injury. His touch was warm, and careful as he pulled the fabric back, revealing a small cut that had already started to heal. His fingertips brushed lightly over the wound.

"It's already closed," he murmured, relief in his voice. "You're fine."

For a long, quiet beat, they stayed like that, the warmth of his hand resting gently against her back, each breath between them filled with unspoken words. She leaned back slightly, allowing herself to sink into the comfort of his embrace, the solid reassurance of his arms around her.

She closed her eyes, breathing him in, her voice breaking the silence, barely above a whisper. "You almost went away today."

He held her a little tighter. "We both did," he replied, his tone edged with a vulnerability he rarely let show.

They stayed close, absorbed in the moment, the distance between them narrowing to a fragile line. Buffy turned to face him, her gaze meeting his, full of unguarded emotion.

"Angel, I feel like... if I lost you…" She paused, the words thick with fear and longing. "But you're right. We can't be sure. About anything."

He gently brushed a strand of damp hair from her face, his thumb grazing her cheek as he hushed her softly. "Shhh." His eyes held hers, deep and unwavering, as if trying to memorize every detail of her face. "I..."

Her gaze searched his, a quiet plea there. "You... what?"

His hand lingered, and he swallowed, gathering the courage to finally say the words that had been building inside him. "I love you," he whispered, the confession raw, filled with pain and an unshakable truth. "I try not to, but I can't stop."

Buffy's breath caught, her voice a gentle echo of his. "Me too. I can't either."

They moved closer, their foreheads touching before their lips met in a kiss that carried the weight of all their hidden fears, their quiet hopes, and the love that had grown between them despite everything. They pulled back, breathless, but the yearning didn't subside. It only grew, and in that brief moment, they both knew there was no going back.

Angel broke away slightly, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. "Buffy... maybe we shouldn't."

"Don't," she whispered, a quiet command, her gaze unwavering. "Just... kiss me."

And he did. They fell back onto the bed, the world around them fading as they shared a tender, heartfelt embrace…

Hours later, a flash of lightning illuminated the room, rousing Angel from his sleep. He sat up carefully, mindful not to disturb Buffy, who lay curled beside him, her bare shoulders peeking out from beneath the covers, her face soft and peaceful in sleep. But as he moved, a searing pain gripped him, making him clutch his chest, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. He stifled a groan, his face contorted in agony as he fought not to wake her.

Unable to bear the pain, he slipped out of bed, pulling on his clothes with trembling hands. The storm still raged outside as he stumbled into the streets, clutching his coat around himself, his body wracked with an invisible torment. Rain fell in heavy sheets, soaking him to the bone as he staggered a few paces, collapsing to his knees on the cold, unforgiving pavement.

Desperate, he looked up to the sky, his voice a strangled whisper. "Buffy…" The pain continued to tear through him, leaving him breathless and lost in the downpour, as if he were slipping away, beyond her reach.