The Resolute Urgency Of Now

Title: The Resolute Urgency Of Now

Author: CC

Rating: Probably as per the show itself, but there will be swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or places from BtVS

Spoilers: Up to and including Season 5

Feedback: Yes please, good, constructive or otherwise. - Simon@jasminect.freeserve.co.uk

Prologue

She long-jumped over a headstone, beating all comers to win gold. She took her award by leaping on the back of her prey. As it tried to shake her off the Slayer braced an arm round the vampire's throat and yanked its head back. The miserable demon instinctively arched its back to prevent its neck from snapping and fell backwards to the ground. Buffy leapt off him in time to avoid being laid out flat with the devil on top of her.

She stood over her prize: her legs forming a bridge over the vampire's torso. She grinned; a cruel gesture that showed no mercy, and locked her eyes on his. She drank in the fear she read from the watery pits that looked back at her.

The vampire grunted as Buffy sat down on its stomach. Still the Slayer smiled. It saw her breath pump from her mouth into the cold night; a fine smoke-like cloud escaping rhythmically to the beat of her heart that his acute senses picked up.

"That was fun," Buffy said between breaths.

She rested the point of her stake over the demon's heart,

"Wait," it said quickly, as though it had something to offer her.

"Why?" The Slayer responded at the same time she drove home her weapon with the flat palm of her other hand.

Her mind came alive instantly; a clearer lucidity than she had possessed seconds before. Buffy leapt up, fear evident in her wide-open eyes. She backed up to a shoulder high tombstone and allowed herself to slide down to a seated position.

"Giles, please help me," she whispered into the night.

Chapter One:

The following night found Buffy standing in the warehouse district. She stood in one of its canyon-like alleyways; high warehouses on either side blending into the grey sky far above. She had chased, or hunted a demon this far, but it had eluded her in the exaggerated darkness of the buildings. In truth it had surprised her; when stationary it stood six foot tall and hideous with a bone structure built to intimidate its enemies like a preying mantis, but when she was getting the upper hand, it fled on all fours which gave it an advantage over Buffy's short stature.

She knew it had to be here somewhere. Adrenaline pumped through her body, and she looked left and right repeatedly, a mad-like frenzy to her movements. Her prey eventually dropped from above and landed behind her. Five years of fighting had honed the slayer's senses and Buffy spun round with a kick ready to impact the demon when she faced it. The demon lashed out with both of its arms, huge four fingered claws raked thin air as Buffy arched her body as though she were edging round a chair. She then swung her right arm in a wide arc and gashed her nemesis' stomach with the axe she had brought with her that night.

The demon screamed in agony. A clear runny liquid erupted from the wound and Buffy was momentarily blinded. In its final life seconds the demon lashed out with one of its claws. Buffy heard the sound of air rushing and was able to step back precious inches to lessen the impact, but not avoid it. She staggered back; one arm clutched to her stomach the other raised to violently wipe her face and eyes. Gradually her sight returned. She saw her victim lying on its back. An expanse of water-like liquid pooled round it, and the creature itself had the appearance of a deflated beach toy, as though the liquid had been air released.

The adrenaline was gone. The urge to hunt and kill was gone. All that was left standing, it seemed, was a petite blonde girl lost: dwarfed by the buildings that surrounded her.

Chapter Two:

"You just had a bad night, that's all," Giles attempted a second time to calm the girl facing him in his living room.

"No, it's more than that. The hunt is tiring me, Giles. Tonight's demon nearly opened me up. As it is, I've got wicked claw marks that..."

"You're letting this bother you too much, Buffy. In the light of day..."

"Don't!" The pupil loudly cut off her Watcher. As she said it she balled one fist as though to bring it down on his shoulder to emphasise her point. Horrified, she caught herself, horrified at the last millisecond. "Please don't," she said quietly. "Don't brush off my concerns as though they're teenage ramblings. I nearly died tonight. This is the second close call in a week. I know it's no big deal for you; after all, if I don't return one night, another fitter school girl will come along in a few weeks, but, Giles, I'm all I've got."

The Watcher remained silent.

"Say something! Comfort me!" Buffy railed at her elder. "I'm opening my heart to you when I could be out there lying on the ground with my heart open. Don't you feel anything?" She added unkindly.

"How do you think I feel?" Giles rallied. "I'm a middle aged man who sends a girl out every night to fight things I can't even defeat in my nightmares. I dread you not coming through that door one night... like every other slayer before you, I know it'll happen one day."

"Poor you, but hey, it's me who wont be coming through."

Giles turned away. There was silence for several long moments.

"I didn't know you thought about it," Buffy said eventually, her voice low. "Mind you, I'm glad you never opened up to me about it earlier; it's sort of a depressing thought, you know, glass half empty," she smiled weakly when Giles turned to face her.

He reached out a hand and pushed back a wayward lock of her hair. She closed her eyes and tilted her head at his touch.

"I used to think I wouldn't see out my teens," Buffy revealed. "I raised the ante to 25, but lately I've doubted my coming of age."

She edged closer to Giles and allowed him to put his arms around her. She returned the gesture.

"I'm scared, Giles."

He didn't say anything: afraid to risk sounding trite. Instead, he allowed his charge to cling tightly to him. She pulled away slowly, as though judging her ability to stand without crutches.

"I'm sorry I blew up like that. I'm a bit tense and hurting." She looked at her palms. "And apparently bloody as well."

Giles noticed the stain that had spread from strand to strand on Buffy's cotton blouse.

"Can I sit down?" She asked meekly.

"Of course, and that wound should be cleaned, otherwise it'll get infected. I fetch a flannel and hot water."

Buffy smiled her gratitude and sank into his sofa. She rested her head back and allowed her mind to drift; not allowing any one thought to take hold for more than a few seconds. Minutes passed in this state of bliss. So lost in her reverie was she, that Giles was kneeling facing her before she even noticed him. He had a steaming basin of water and a small face towel.

"Let's see to that nasty scratch."

Buffy felt like commenting that it was more than a scratch, but felt it wise not to. She slouched down in the chair and lifted her blouse slightly to reveal four violent red lines etched across her stomach.

"I feel like I've had a run in with Freddie Krueger. You don't think they'll scar do you? I don't fancy having to design am elaborate tattoo to incorporate them... OUCH!" She exclaimed at Giles' first dab of the wet towel to the wound. He dabbed again. "Err, excuse me. I said Ouch."

"Don't be such a baby," he teased.

"Oh, Ok. But as long as we can swap places half way," she countered good-humouredly before wincing again.

Giles' touch became more tender. "It's a serious wound, Buffy," he said as though noticing it for the first time. "I'm sorry I didn't respond to it earlier." He looked up at Buffy when she didn't respond, and found her looking at him. He suddenly felt uncomfortable; fearing what he sensed he saw written in her eyes, and nervous of the duplication his own were revealing. He rocked back on his feet: widening the gap between the young woman sitting in front of him. She looked a conflicting mix of innocence and world-weariness as she looked up at him. "I... I better let you finish..." he stammered and stood up. "If it's... If it's any consolation, the wound missed your chest by several inches, so there was no danger of your heart being... Anyway, I'll put the kettle on."

"Giles," Buffy said as he reached the doorway to the kitchen. He turned round hesitantly. "Nothing," she responded eventually to his questioning look. "I'd love a cup of tea, thank you."

Chapter Three:

Another victory another dead... horned thing. Buffy didn't know what she had killed. She didn't feel bad about that; it had after all been stalking a young couple returning home from a night out. Still, it would be nice to put a name to it.

She felt the adrenaline seep from her muscles, and clarity of thought return. The order of sensations was by now becoming standard and she spent minutes every night waiting for each one, as though she were ticking them off a list. She wasn't prepared, however, for the agony that followed: Buffy fell to her knees, an act in itself that caused bruising. She ignored that, however and concentrated on the burning pain that seemed to course through her veins. She felt like clawing her skin to gouge out some unseen invader beneath. She was prevented from doing so, though, by needle like pulses of agony trying to break out through her fingertips. Eventually, the pain stopped; a wave of cool relief rose from her toes to her face as the sweat raised by her torment shed her body heat. She was too out of breath to stand straight away, so she remained kneeling in the middle of a playing field, as though praying to some unseen deity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy resisted the urge to hunt the following night, but the one after that succumbed. She found herself sitting in an armchair at home, drained of energy. She registered the second knock on the front door and went to answer it. Willow was on time for their weekly girl's night: they had come up with the idea when Buffy discovered that her mother and sister went to their book club once a week.

"So, did you hunt this evening?" Willow asked eventually when all the chocolate and potato products had been arranged neatly on the coffee table. Buffy had revealed her concern about the hunting to her friends: deciding that secrets did not belong within the gang. Spike's revelation that her survival as a slayer was due in a large part to her friends had made her want to include them in everything.

"Yes," Buffy replied. "It started out as a patrol, but morphed into a blood lust again."

"Giles is looking into it," her friend reassured. "Are you ok?" Willow asked when she saw Buffy wince when sitting up in her chair.

"Fine, just aching. Probably strained something. Have you heard from Tara?" She asked to change the subject. She smiled inwardly at her friend's reaction to hearing the name.

"Yes! We had a lovely long conversation. She'll be home in a couple of weeks, which is two weeks too long for me, but..."

"They'll fly by, don't worry."

The two young women chatted carelessly through the night. Willow sat cross-legged on the sofa leaning forward: voice and mannerisms her usual mixture of excitement and enthusiasm. Buffy relaxed back in her chair smiling at her friend's remarks and adding her own. She loved the golden haired witch like a sister. The world wasn't such a bad place and was worth the trouble of saving if only to keep Willow smiling. And to realise Xander's potential, she thought. And to give Giles the chance to learn to live for himself.

"Willow," she said eventually after a period of silence. The Wicca was caught reaching for another chocolate and glanced over impishly as she popped it into her mouth.

"Huh huh?" She responded, her mouth melting the sweet and forbidding speech.

"I was wondering... your relationship is sort of unconventional... I was..."

"Is that what you think of Tara and me? We don't think of it like that."

"Oh, Willow, I didn't mean... what I meant... I mean... you're smiling at me."

"You're squirming. That's so cool!" Willow laughed suddenly and then immediately adopted an expression of mock guilt and humour combined. "I mean... I'm the side-kick and side-kicks don't normally get the chance to laugh at the heroes."

"Ha ha, I'm sure," Buffy smiled in return. "What I meant was... oh dear,"

"Squirm squirm."

"Alright then," she paused. "What do you think of Giles?"

"Giles? He's a lovely man and... oh... oh! You mean, what do I think of Giles... Are you saying...?"

"Squirm squirm," Buffy rejoiced.

"Touché. Buffy, are you saying that you have feelings for Giles?"

"I think so. I mean I've always loved him as Giles; Giles the Watcher, Giles the stammering, awkwardly British librarian, but... Willow, I..." She trailed off.

"How long have your feelings been... different?"

"I think I sensed it after that time Ethan transformed him into a demon; when I looked into his eyes and realised it was him. Giles looked back at me then, pleading with me not to kill him. I felt such a bond, and afterwards when the real thing stood before me... looking down at me with such... Willow I could have sworn then that he wanted to say something, but I brushed it off as absurd."

"What changed you mind?"

"Last week, when he was cleaning a wound I had received on the hunt... he gave the same look and I found myself giving the same back."

"That would probably make me think."

"Yeah, that and Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones getting married."

They both laughed.

"Willow... what should I do?" Buffy went serious and begged for some advice.

"Well, as a person who is already in an 'unconventional relationship', I'd say go for it."

"But?"

"But, oh Buffy it's doomed to fail. You haven't been too lucky with long term relationships... and I know that's a cruel thing to say, but how long would it last?"

"I know... you're right. The last thing I need to do is immerse myself in something that will only bring me heartache further down the line."

"It was a nice thought though."

"Yucky, you mean."

"No! Weird maybe, but not yucky. It is Giles we're talking about not Spike!"

"Don't go there, Willow."

They both laughed again.

"What about Riley?" Willow asked after a short pause.

"We broke up yesterday."

"What!... I mean, oh. That must have been traumatic," the young witch ventured.

"A bit tense, yea. Although, the lengthy metaphors tended to get in the way." Buffy smiled at her friend's curious expression. "He said he was fed up with being surprised at every turning, and not knowing who we were from one day to the next."

"What's he going to do?"

"Go back to Iowa for a while 'where the land is flat and I can see what's coming for miles' "

"Wow, I see what you mean by metaphors."

"That's not all of them. I have to look up a couple more to see if they were veiled insults or complimentary."

There followed another silence.

"So," Willow said off handily, "how long have you been feeling the pain?" She asked cryptically.

"What do you mean?" Buffy immediately went on the defensive.

"Don't what me, young lady. You've been unsuccessfully masking agony all evening. I've been waiting for you to open up about it."

The slayer changed her posture to that of resignation; she slouched in the chair as though trying to hide from her punishment. "It's gone now," she attempted to brush it off, but saw in her friends' face that she wasn't going to be allowed to end it there. "It comes after a hunt, but goes eventually... it lasts a little longer each time, and is sometimes worse than it was tonight."

"Where do you feel it?"

"It varies. Sometimes I swear I'm having a heart attack, whilst it can also take the form of a killer migraine."

"And always after a hunt?"

"Yes... look, Willow I've explained this to Giles and he is looking into it, at the same time as everything else he is looking into."

"You should have told me," Willow admonished.

"I know. I'm sorry, but I didn't want you to worry."

"Hey! You do the danger risk your life stuff, let me share the worry thing."

Chapter Four:

Buffy woke up late one morning. She turned over in bed expecting to see Riley, but remembered he was long gone. The aching in her limbs and the pounding in her head; testament to a long night of hunting down the un-dead, took her mind off the space in her bed left by her former lover. She had quickly gotten used to him not being around; not being there when she returned from her exhausting forays through Sunnydale's obscenely numerous cemeteries, or accompanying her even, and not being there when she rose the next morning. She still slept to one side of the mattress, however, as though afraid to roll onto some unseen body lying asleep on the other side.

The slayer of all things unspeakable lifted her legs over the side of the bed and arched her back in a vain attempt to drive out the weakness she felt. The effort, however, caused more pain than it dispelled and she gripped her left arm as a spasm of pain pulse from shoulder to hand. The pain only lasted a few seconds but she felt beads of perspiration form on her forehead.

Buffy finally stood up and walked over to her window. It was a glorious morning; the sun shone in wide angled rays through fluffy white clouds. She turned away from the blue white canvas to face Whistler standing by her bedroom door, which was still closed behind him.

Her world suddenly zoomed forward and panned back, causing her legs to almost give way under her. She recovered her poise and faced her uninvited guest, a mixture of fear and suspicion evident in her expression.

"Wow, I don't usually elicit such a response from young ladies," opened up the enigmatic visitor.

"Whistler," Buffy acknowledged. "You obviously don't take your name seriously; you scared the crap out of me." She sat back down on the end of her bed and cradled her head for a few seconds. She dragged her hands down her face and massaged her eyes with her fingertips.

"Can I get you anything?" Whistler offered.

"Some rose tinted glasses wouldn't go amiss," she replied looking up at him. "I'll settle for my dressing gown, though. It's hanging on the wardrobe door," she pointed. Whistler was polite enough to blush at her lack of sufficient attire to greet guests with. He handed the robe to her.

"So," she said finally. "To what have I the honour... etc?" She asked wearily.

"I've come to impart important advice..."

"No kidding. You always turn up with earth shattering news. I'm guessing you don't get invited to many parties. I mean, can't you just pop round for coffee?"

"It can be lonely sometimes, but we each have our responsibilities."

"So, what is my job this time... excuse the tone, but last time we met I had to go drive a sword through my boyfriend," she spoke bitterly and felt ashamed afterwards.

"Nothing so traumatic this time, I assure you. This visit is by way of a genuine concern for your well being." He paused expecting Buffy to comment. "You have been experiencing discomfort after your patrols."

"Before, during and after actually. Do you have an explanation for it?" she asked desperately.

"I do."

"Do I want to know?" Buffy asked hesitantly. "Tell me anyway," she added before Whistler could answer.

"A slayer's career is supposed to be a short one; like a firefly, it should burn brightly and beautifully before being extinguished and replaced by the next."

"That was quite poetic, Whistler; a wonderfully subtle way of saying I've survived too long and should make way for a younger model." She laughed humourlessly. "Would the Powers That Be mind if I stick around a bit longer?"

"They would love you live a full life, Buffy. In fact, they're quite fond of you, which is why I'm here actually. I have been allowed to reveal something no former slayer has been allowed to know - to warn you."

"Now you're starting to scare me. What secret am I being allowed in on?"

"That slayers have a natural life span built in to them: A design that ensures that the incumbent is always the fittest and in his or her prime. If they constantly survive battles and look to celebrate multiple birthdays, their bodies ensure they do not succeed."

"Life just gets better and better. I sometimes wonder how I keep up, or why I fucking bother to try. You know, Spike told me slayers have a tendency to... let go because of loneliness and disillusionment. Are you saying that if we don't get killed or kill ourselves, our bodies self destruct on us?"

Whistler nodded gravely. "It starts with an urge to hunt; to push your body to its limits and beyond, until it eventually gives out."

Buffy quickly wiped away a tear forming. "Why have I been singled out to receive this blessed information?" She asked bitterly.

"I told you; the Powers like you."

"Ha! Then tell them to extend the sell by date! I'm not some car that gets cast away when a better model comes along!"

"They can't do that; they didn't create the slayer. Your kind originates from a power more ancient."

"What can I do then?"

"Take it easy..."

"What... slay gently and every second Tuesday?"

"Actually, that's not far off the mark."

"What!" Buffy looked around her room. "If I didn't feel so stupid standing here in just my dressing gown, I'd start breaking things. I'm a slayer, Whistler. I'm still conscious that I have a duty to protect the innocent. I can't just go part time."

Whistler shortened the gap between them. "Yes you can... in a way. Buffy, the Powers and you know that you cannot defeat every vampire and demon that exists. Whilst you're here doing your part, there are demons throughout the world doing their worse. If you were meant to defeat every evil that rises there would be an army of slayers, not just one. Conserve your energies for protecting the world from the worse threats it faces; opening hell mouths and prophecies coming true."

"And that will prevent meltdown; a change in my job description?"

"I can't promise you a picnic in the park with your grandchildren, but..."

"One day at a time... thank you," she smiled affectionately and kissed the messenger on the cheek. "You do your job well."

Whistler blushed again, which made the young woman before him laugh. "I must be going," he said and made to leave. "I hope we meet again."

"Give me some warning next time and I'll put a pot of coffee on."

She watched him slowly fade into nothing. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door. "Buffy, are you in there?" Her mother called from the other side. Buffy opened the door and stood back to allow Joyce to enter. She was looking well. Buffy was still getting used to the wonderful news that her mother was not seriously ill as had been feared.

"How are you this morning, dear?" The lady of the house asked her daughter.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"I thought I heard you speaking to someone... never mind," she added when Buffy didn't respond. "That's a nasty cut."

Buffy put her hand on her forehead and saw blood and some grit on it from the night before when she looked at her palm. "I'm glad my powers of healing are quick, otherwise I dread the scar I'd have."

"You do seem to get cut there rather a lot."

"Oh, I get cut a lot of other places, you just get to see the head wounds and I'm guessing you don't want to hear this," she tailed off guiltily.

"I want to hear of all your wounds, Buffy. Don't ever hide anything from me. I want you to be able to confide and take comfort - if only to make up for your first year in Sunnydale..."

"I never wanted to worry you."

"I'm a parent. I get to worry anyway. A little more won't hurt. When you become a mother you'll realise that ignorance isn't always bliss."

"If I become a parent," Buffy countered, "I'm going to follow my daughter around everywhere."

"I wholeheartedly approve. In fact, you can practice on Dawn, if you like. What about a son?"

"Oh yes, I'll have one of them as well. Two even, so they can protect their sister and treat their old mother to flowers on occasion," she continued, warming to the topic.

"Mind you," Joyce added, "I'd appreciate it if you'd leave motherhood another few years; I'm too young to be a grandmother."

"Deal."

"Right then, breakfast?"

"That sounds good. I was going to go straight to Giles' but he doesn't have your knack with waffles. I'll get dressed and join you downstairs in a few minutes."

When her mother left the room, Buffy put her hand to her forehead again, and looked at herself in the mirror over her dressing table.

Chapter Five:

Giles opened his front door to find Buffy standing outside, leaning on the porch. She looked tired; dark tones under her eyes were visible even in the fading light, and the shadows the other apartments lent drove home the point.

"You wanted to see me," she stated as though it was an inconvenience.

"Yes. Yes I did, come in." He stood back to let his student enter. Buffy walked over to the hatchway to his kitchen and leant her back on it for support. She rubbed her eyes with a thumb and forefinger and focused her attention on Giles, affording him an affectionate smile that he was relieved to see.

"I haven't seen you for... four days? Are you ok?" He asked, standing with his back to the closed front door.

"Tired. Bone numbingly tired, but otherwise peachy. I'm sorry I haven't been round, but I was going to visit today... or tomorrow at least."

"Tired? You... you must be careful not to overdo it... must take a break occasionally..."

"I have been, for the last four days and it's..." she looked down at her hands, which were shaking. "...I feel like I've come down from a high... without the high part, which sucks."

"Right... err that's an interesting development..." Giles walked over to his bureau, taking care to edge round Buffy. He stood facing her now from the other side of the room. "...but, never the less I think it is a good idea that you not hunt... I mean patrol... not patrol so much."

"Giles, I'm a slayer. How can you, a Watcher, suggest that... oh shit, Whistler came to you as well, didn't he?"

"Who...? Whistler? No, he... Did he come to you?"

"Yes, four days ago. He said... never mind. What did you want to see me for?"

"I... I found an obscure Watcher diary... it wasn't with the other volumes; it was hidden in a Council history book..." He picked up an ancient leather bound book from the bureau and held it out to her. Buffy backed away.

"I don't like reading about other slayers, Giles. Their Watchers write them as heroines." She wrapped her arms round herself and looked at the floor in front of her. "They were people, flesh and blood. On paper they've been mythologized; all humanity stripped away from them."

"A Watcher's devotion for his slayer runs deep... to them they are heroines."

Buffy looked up at her teacher, hers eyes locking on his. "But, there's nothing about their personality... did they laugh at jokes, dance or... have love affairs with..." She made to approach closer. Giles backed away on impulse. "Why do you always do that?" she demanded, desperation adding an edge to her voice.

"You know why."

"Yeah, right. So, what does this diary say? Although, I can guess... 'My brave and dutiful slayer finally came of age and dropped dead on cue. Her replacement arrives next week'," she quoted bitterly; quickly wiping a tear as though hoping it wouldn't be noticed.

"If you take it easy... patrol only when threats crop up..."

"I've been trying that the last four days, but Giles it's hard. This self-destructive urge to hunt is strong. I'm starting to think that abstention is designed to make a slayer go mad where hunting fails to take. Giles, I haven't slept in days!"

Giles wanted to bridge the gap and hold the petite blond girl before him. But, she was just a girl so he maintained his distance as usual; the four feet that separated them seeming like miles. "The diary mentions the withdrawal. Apparently she went through the same symptoms but, Buffy, she started to recover... and she still performed her duty."

"What happened to her?" Buffy asked desperately, clinging to a hope that she didn't think existed seconds before.

"She... she was killed... but, Buffy..."

"That's ok, Giles. I've accepted for years now that my fate is to die violently. Death is always a possibility whether I hunt nightly or occasionally. I've always known that, but to know that that I won't just collapse into a useless heap out of exhaustion... if I'm careful... oh Giles." She ran to him and flung her arms around the stunned man. "You don't know how scared I've felt the last weeks. I love you." She kissed him on the lips, a look of joy in her eyes for the first time in ages. Giles stepped back, holding her arms length.

"What's up?" She asked smiling. "You've tried the older model already..."

"Buffy!" Giles relinquished his hold, part stepping back part pushing her away. "That was un called for. You know very well it was the damn candy that caused your mother and me to... well..."

"I know... Giles, I'm sorry... I meant it as a joke, a poor one admittedly," she said looking contrite. "But, Giles I... don't you feel anything between us... I mean, you must. I get butterflies thinking about us, and can't eat when I do and..."

"Buffy, stop it..."

"I've grown up. I'm not the sixteen-year-old girl that came looking for a book. I've... we've shared so much the last five years. You can't have stayed so close and not felt something, and if you quote father/daughter, I'll get angry."

"It's a valid point."

"I've got a father! If I want some paternal advice I'll get up early and call Spain! I'm a woman who needs someone who loves her. I want someone to come home to. Not even Riley was that."

"You're still young..."

"And you're an old man, yet you'll out live me."

"Is that supposed to be an incentive?" Giles asked trying to inject some humour. Buffy misread it as something else.

"I see; you're looking for something that will last. Something that will go the distance, last a lifetime. Well guess what, so am I!" She took a couple of deep breaths and smiled weakly at the man she faced. "I guess my mood swings are a bit of a put off too, huh?"

"They can wear a man down, yes." Giles returned her smile.

"Just you make sure you mention them in your diary. Oh, Giles what will you do when I die?"

"The way you make me worry, who's to say I won't die first?"

"I can probably get a bookie who'll give you good odds."

"I do love you, you know that don't you?" Giles asked.

Chapter Six:

Buffy decided to take a short cut home through the cemetery. Her mood was level, neither desperate nor particularly high. For the first time in weeks she felt she had a chance to lengthen her life span noticeably. Perhaps she would see 25 after all. The other matter brought her reverie down to earth, however. "Unrequited love is such a crappy shitty... stupid fucking thing to endure," she said out loud and broke into laughter at her own outburst. "But the agony of it is kinda cool," she countered.

"I always took you for a masochist," a voice emerged with its originator from behind a tomb ahead of her.

"Spike, long time. What have you been doing? I haven't seen you since that night on the veranda, which I... I have wanted to thank you for, by the way. Your presence was comforting, in a scary sort of way."

"Don't mention it," the bleached vampire responded nonchalantly. "Truth to tell, I was there to kill you."

"I kinda guessed as much... the double barrel shotgun was a lead."

"I suppose it was. How's Joyce?"

"She's fine, thank you." They both stood a few feet apart, Spike's taller stature requiring Buffy to look up. With his long dark cloak wrapped around him he had a kind of brooding presence; danger mixed with a sexual intensity. "Why did you let me live?" She asked, shaking herself out of her scary thoughts.

"It didn't seem the right time; and too quick. When I get this chip out of my head, I'll make a good job of it."

"Gee, there's a thought to hang on to."

"Of course, that's if you don't burn out first... hey!" he held his hands up in self-defence. "Just because you haven't seen me doesn't mean I haven't been around."

"Eavesdropping you mean."

"What can I say, I'm evil. But, don't worry, as that old wise woman, Debbie Harry once said 'die young, stay pretty'. I mean, look at me." He held his arms out wide welcoming Buffy to survey the figure of a man that stood before her. She returned him a disgusted look. "What you need is a bite to the neck. A dose of immortality and you'll feel much better."

"Followed by the death of all my friends by my own hand. Oh yes, that'll cheer me up loads."

"Yes it would. Well it would make me smile. Think of it, slayer; living forever!"

"But, don't you see, Spike? By living forever you ultimately become... insignificant. A man, knowing he is destined to die after three score and ten, will try his hardest to make his mark. You, on the other hand, just plod. You were, are and always will be. Where's the challenge in that?"

"And what about you?" Spike retaliated. "Knowing you're going to die before your next haircut isn't much of a challenge either. It's fucking depressing if you ask me."

"I plan to survive as long as possible. Either that or grow my hair long." She smiled. The action was infectious and Spike flashed his teeth.

Buffy regarded the vampire. That night on the veranda, when he had comforted her, bothered her whenever she thought of it. It was easier to hate Spike than grow to like him. One day he would get the chip in his head removed and she would be forced to kill him. Despite everything they had done to each other, she was not immune to the small kindnesses he revealed on occasion.

"You should try something new, find a hobby or get a job even," she suggested.

"What, like Angel you mean? Or that guy on Forever Knight? You gotta be kidding."

"What have you accomplished in your life... or death for that matter?"

"Accomplish? Why do I have to accomplish anything? I've had fun! I had fun for over a century; no duty, no self reproach, no need to worry about what other people thought. I used to be king of my world, lord over everything I hated. Now, with this sodding chip all I have is the hate bit, and a faint itch for a blonde cheerleader that I can't seem to get out of my mind."

Buffy was taken aback. "An itch?" She repeated dangerously.

"Yea, like a scab you can't help picking at despite knowing that it'll only make it worse."

Buffy laughed out loud. "A scab?" She asked between the laughter, tears starting to fall down her cheeks. "Oh, Spike thank you. To think you used to be a poet. Tell me, what rhymes with scab?"

"Now you're taking the piss," Spike sulked.

"Of course I am. You'd hate me more if I gave you tea and sympathy.hey that rhymed!" She burst out laughing again and walked past the demon to continue her walk home. She was stopped short when Spike started speaking again.

"The beauty of the southern skies
Is eclipsed by the sight before my eyes:
Of fragile beauty, hear my soul cry
Such beauty must never die"

"Spike..."

"The easy stream of laughter through the air
Emits true human nature so fair.
I lift my eyes and stare
At the golden sun eclipse on her golden hair"

"Spike, please stop." She looked horrified.

"Don't worry, slayer." It was his turn to laugh. "I wrote that over a century ago, hence the golden sun reference."

"I can't love you, Spike. We have too much history, you and I, and none of it good; full of violence and... insults," she smiled weakly, "of which 'scab' is the least insulting."

"I don't love you either, Buffy. You drive me crazy sometimes to the extent I want to suck the life out of you, but at the same time I want to pull you to me and..."

"I get the image, thank you."

"What do you want from life, Buffy?"

"Me? A husband and children, a picket fence and a 9 to 5... and a picnic in the park with my grandchildren... I aim high," she added. "Take care, Spike." She finished and walked away.

"One thing I can't get over though," Spike called out. "Giles actually slept with your mother. Now that really creases me up... hey I'm evil, so sue me."

Chapter Seven:

"Well?" Willow asked, expecting Buffy to know exactly what she was referring to. Her friend turned round, her expression revealing she didn't know. They were taking the long way to the Bronze; both enjoying the evening air and the quiet that came with it. Willow wore a cotton dress that matched her red hair to perfection.

"Well what?" Buffy asked.

"What did he say? What's going to happen?" This was met with a less convincing show of ignorance. "Did you flutter your... did you cry?" Willow persisted relentlessly, warming to the topic.

"Willow!"

"I... I read it somewhere."

"Yeah? What was it 'how to win a man's heart: the old fashioned way' by Jane Austen?"

"Did you say you loved him?" Willow continued unruffled.

The Slayer relented. "I didn't spell it out... well, ok I did, but I mentioned it in passing rather than as a statement," she explained.

"What did he say?"

"He loved me... but in passing... not as a statement."

"That's so sweet," the Wicca wiped a tear.

"Don't get carried away there, Wills. It's not going to happen."

"You'll just have to try harder."

"I'm tired, Willow." She laughed. "And I have some dignity; I gave it my all. I can't open my heart every week."

They reached the doors to the Bronze. A bright and rather violent poster announced it was Punk Night. A small queue of revellers had formed up outside as bouncers checked them for any weapons.

"They remind me of the people you see on postcards from London," Willow observed. "Hey, perhaps Giles will be here... you know, to relive his youth."

"Thanks, Will. Just what I need; an age reference to make me feel better. Besides, he wouldn't be seen dead at a theme night."

"Hi, Giles," Willow greeted the Watcher enthusiastically as he approached the two girls.

Buffy turned round to see Giles, Xander and Anya. Xander was dressed for the part and Anya's hair was sticking up in a spike. Giles looked uncomfortable in blue denim jeans and a tight shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She looked at him: a mixture of sympathy and humour.

"It wasn't my idea," he offered by way of an explanation. "I really don't want to be here."

"Of course you do," Xander encouraged. "Themed nights at the Bronze are always good."

"Yes, and you're old so you'll remember Punk from the first time," Anya innocently rubbed salt into the wound.

"Sad to say, I was a little old for Punk. The early 70s were more my scene, but," he added quickly, "I was young enough."

"Well there you are then," Buffy closed the subject and took him by the arm as they all entered the nondescript doors of the club.

Their ears were assailed as soon as they passed the threshold; a loud wall of music, or a resemblance of instruments being played.

"Err... this is ok. I mean it's..." Buffy struggled.

"...sort of like Grunge, but without the melody or the Beastie Boys without the subtlety. Don't you agree, Giles?" Willow teased. Buffy glared at her to be met by fluttering eyes from her friend. She sighed and watched Willow walk away laughing.

"Philistines!" They all looked round to see Spike standing behind them. They had just enough time to back out of his way as he charged on to the dance floor and proceeded to join the other revellers jumping in the air, all with their arms straight at their sides, and making special effort it seemed to collide and head butt each other violently.

"You'd think that would hurt," Buffy commented as Spike purposely collided with another guy, sending him off to one side. The victim then returned to the floor and returned the gesture.

"This bouncing is normal, I guess?" Xander asked unsure of the spectacle.

"Oh yes," Anya spoke up. "I remember a Clash concert I attended where a woman wanted vengeance on her boyfriend for sleeping with six of her friends. I made him bounce six feet. He hit the ceiling and cracked his head open. Much blood flowed, which kind of added to the enjoyment if I recall... What?" She asked when she saw the others looking at her, horror on their faces.

"Do you fancy a bounce?" Willow asked rejoining the group.

"What, and give Xander the satisfaction of watching different parts of me bounce, I think not... and don't deny it hasn't crossed your mind, young man," she directed at the youth next to her.

"Hey," he held up his hands, "I'm a full blooded male."

"I can vouch for that," Anya offered.

The music changed to No More Heroes by the Stranglers.

"Are you patrolling tonight?" Willow asked.

"No."

"That's three nights in a row," Willow observed. "Hey Giles, can I have time off... with pay, of course."

"We can't all neglect our duty," Anya commented.

"Thank you, Anya. Say, I think I will bounce. Coming Xander?"

"Will you all stop calling it the Bounce," Spike butted in annoyed. "You make it sound stupid."

"Hold on," Buffy said stopping short of the dance floor. Her eyes followed a tall brooding man leading a girl from the club. She saw rather than heard the obsequious comments he was making towards that evening's quarry. The victim looked up at him with eyes of worship, hanging on every word as though he was her one true love. "I won't be long," Buffy said.

"Where are you going?"

"To destroy some illusions." She pulled a stake from her bag.

"Be careful," Giles said simply as she made to leave.

"Always."

When she was out of earshot, Giles turned to Xander. "Follow her. Make sure she doesn't need help."

Buffy let the club door slam loudly behind her. She stood just outside the entrance and watched the vampire lead his meal to the shadows of the wall opposite. He made to kiss her, but Buffy caught the glint of ivory in the weak light of the alley's lamps.

"Excuse me," she said.

The demon turned round; its face a vicious mockery of the human it occupied. His eyes went wide and he smiled on realising who had disturbed him. The girl beside him stood held in his vice like grip, terrified.

"Slayer! Superb. You took your time. I thought I was actually going to have to take this one." He meant the girl beside him trying her best to break free.

"Let her go then and I might let you have a taste of me."

"Let her go?" His expression changed to the triumph of evil over innocence. Buffy realised she was too late. He gripped the girl with both hands and broke her neck in one fluid motion that looked as though no effort was required and less thought.

Buffy's heart beat fast as she made to move towards the monster. She stopped short, however, when another figure emerged from the shadows to stand alongside his colleague. He raised a crossbow and aimed it at the Slayer. At that moment Xander joined the scene. Years of fighting the un-dead enabled him to take in the scene straight away. He stood to Buffy's left.

"Xander?" She uttered but without taking her eyes off the bow.

"Giles thought you might need help," he replied by way of an explanation.

"Isn't that sweet," the crossbow wielder commented. "It'll be a shame to kill them. They make such a lovely couple. Perhaps we should just cripple them and they can be given hospital beds next to each other."

"If you're going to kill us, do it quickly. Just don't bore us," the blonde before them uttered contemptuously.

"Err... excuse me," Xander added. "My life has been quite eventful lately, so feel free to bore me all you like."

The vampire levelled the crossbow and pulled the trigger. Buffy caught the bolt with her left hand before it reached Xander's chest, and threw her stake with her right. The crossbow fell to the ground amidst a sprinkling of death dust. The other vampire knew its limits and made a quick exit from the scene. The Slayer gave chase.

"Buffy!"

She turned round eventually at Giles' third shout of her name.

"What? I'm kind of busy here!"

"Busy doing what?"

"Chasing... hunting. Oh shit." She stood still, dwarfed by the warehouses either side. Anyone who didn't know her would say she was lost, out of her depth in the wrong part of town.

"Hey, Buff. How about that dance," Xander offered. He stood a couple of yards behind Giles.

She looked in his direction. "Sorry?"

"We were going to dance. How about it?"

She looked at Giles then back at the younger man. "...no thank you... I."

"Go on. You can release all that pent up rage with some sexy moves." He gyrated his hips.

Buffy smiled weakly. "Not tonight, Xander."

"I'll let you hold me close..."

"I said no!" She sighed and brought herself into check for his benefit. "It's Punk Rock, Xander," she smiled, changing the tone.

"Give us few minutes, Xander." Giles asked.

Watcher faced pupil. She was nearly 20 feet away but he could make out the fear in her eyes and that her hands were shaking. "That was a neat trick with the crossbow bolt," he said offhandedly.

"You saw that, huh?"

"Yes."

"What about the follow through with the stake?"

"Not bad, although if you'd done it on the run, you'd have made up the distance to the other vampire and stopped him from escaping."

Buffy laughed genuinely. "Yessir. I'll remember that next time." She lost the smile, though and looked away a few seconds before returning her gaze to her guide. "If you hadn't stopped me I'd be out there still hunting it down; letting it get ahead just a little then dragging it down without mercy." She held out her hands; they shook in spasms. "My body wants to go now, regardless to the fact that it'll kill me. My veins itch beneath my skin. A whole week spent avoiding the hunt and I could have gone just like that."

"A week isn't long, Buffy. We'll get through it. You've got a week in New York to wind down, although how anyone can wind down in that city escapes me."

"Stay off coffee, I guess," Buffy suggested. She finally closed the gap between them and put her arm is his. "Giles." He looked down at the girl by his side. "Don't send Xander... or anyone for that matter, to check on me again. I might not catch the next time." He nodded his acceptance.

"When do you fly out?" He asked to change the subject.

"Tomorrow afternoon, and I can't wait."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giles drove everyone back to his apartment, except Willow, whom they left at the bus station to wait for Tara's arrival on the late bus. They walked into the Watcher's living room, Buffy last. She stopped in the doorway, a little stunned: several balloons were suspended on string, tied to the back of dining chairs, and a small pile of presents, carefully wrapped, lay on the table. She looked at Giles, a pretend dangerous look fooling no one.

"Did you think you could get away with not celebrating your birthday just because you were going to be away?" Xander asked.

"Yes actually."

"Happy 20th birthday, Buffy," Giles handed her a card and a small box. "Open it later."

She looked at him curiously but was shaken out of it by Anya thrusting a larger and softer gift into her hands. She took the package and walked round the table to sit down on the sofa. A dress unravelled itself as Buffy held it by the neck. "It's beautiful, thank you, Anya."

"I know and it fits me as well so you can lend it... what?" She looked at Xander's pained expression.

"I don't know why you tried to avoid your birthday," Xander stated.

"Every one goes to so much effort, I sometimes wonder whether it's because you all think it might be my last."

"Think yourself lucky you get one at all, I haven't had one for centuries," Anya butted in which quickly changed the mood and allowed everyone to laugh at her expense.

"Pick a day, my love and we'll make it special," Xander soothed. Buffy regarded the clumsy young man, a feeling of strong love for the devotion he had for his girlfriend. They were always making fun at Anya's unfortunate remarks and his self-deprecation, but she realised then that he deserved more than that.

The next present was from Willow. Buffy opened the packaging to reveal a book entitled 'Events of the 70s'. There was a small note in Willow's handwriting that said 'useful research' She laughed. Giles looked over her shoulder and looked at her puzzled. "It's for college," she lied.

The phone rang.

After some moments, Giles turned to face the others, his face pale. Buffy stood up quickly and backed away. "It's not Dawn, is it... or Mum?" She pleaded.

"No," he replied quickly. "No, it's Willow... he." Giles gestured to the caller on the phone, "he has her... he wants you to go to him or he'll kill her..."

"Who... Giles what are talking about...? Put whoever it is on the speaker."

Giles pressed the button and placed the receiver on the table. Everyone could hear breathing echo from the phone. The caller discerned the change in sound. "Ahh I see I have an audience. Slayer, are you there? I do hope so as I have gone to a lot of trouble here."

"Who is this and where is Willow?"

"Buffy!" Willow cried out from the other end of the line. She then let out an agonising scream.

Xander lunged at the phone. "Willow! If you harm her..." He shouted into the speaker, a frightening rage taking over him that scared Buffy and Anya both.

"Shut up, boy!" The voice shouted back contemptuously spitting out the last word.

Buffy pulled Xander up and gently guided him over to Anya. Keeping a controlled distance away from the receiver she steeled herself. "Whoever you are, if Willow is harmed, I will hunt you down relentlessly, and your painful death will be told to scare children for generations."

The threat was met with cruel laughter. "Hunt me down, but my dear I count on it. I want you to hunt me down. Do your worse, slayer. I know you're on borrowed time; fit to burn out."

"Don't worry. I've got reserves left yet. Even if means you're my last task, believe me I'll go out on a high."

"I love it. This is going to be fun. Before you reach me, however, I have a journey for you to undertake," he revealed menacingly. "Do you remember the Starsky and Hutch episode where one of them had to chase around the city answering telephones to get the next clue to his partner's whereabouts?"

"I'm not that old," she responded, mouthing an apology to Giles. "But I've seen the re-runs. Let me guess, you want me to run around until you deem it appropriate for me to find you."

"Got it in one. The Watcher knows the first location, and come alone or you'll have to carry your friend home." He hung up. Buffy replaced the receiver on its point and faced Giles. He handed her a piece of paper with an address written on it.

"I don't know what to do," he said helplessly.

"Make it go away or make it better," she smiled weakly. Giles saw she was shaking.

"Buffy, what did he mean by 'fit to burn out'?" Xander added disturbing the moment.

Buffy came to her senses. "No time to explain. Xander, you and Anya go to the bus station and meet Tara." She kissed him on the cheek. "Go now."

"But, you might need some help finding..."

"Xander, he said come alone... let's go," Anya pulled her partner to the door. She looked knowingly at Buffy, who returned the gaze, a surprised look on her face, but grateful for her actions never the less.

Watcher and pupil were left alone. "Look after Dawn for me," she asked simply.

"Buffy..."

"Promise."

"I promise... and, Buffy... you and I... I mean, I think we could..."

She put a hand over his mouth to stop him finishing. "You sweet man." She kissed him affectionately and opened the door to leave.

"Buffy." She turned round. "I never told you how the other slayer died... the one who overcame the hunt."

"I assumed her watcher killed her." When Giles didn't deny it, she smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders.

Chapter Eight:

The telephone's repetitive tone was momentarily drowned out by the sound of the door collapsing inwards on the end of Buffy's foot: its hinges ripping splinters from the frame as they gave way to the onslaught. The Slayer stood in the doorway only a few seconds, hands on hips: long enough to discern the location of the phone. She strode forward, ignoring the two vampires waiting for her. They took a few more seconds to respond before standing as one, demon countenances morphing from human faces.

"Sorry, no time to fight or exchange smart remarks," she said not halting her advance on the telephone.

The two visitors from Hell blocked her way; their faces a picture of perverted evil out for some fun. The petite figure approaching them pulled a machete from its holster slung on her back. In one motion she swung the blade low from right to left opening the stomach of one adversary. She followed this with a diagonal upward sweep of her arm, cutting an equally messy gash to the other vampire from hip to shoulder. Both monsters crumpled to the floor: their innards merging into one tidy mess. Buffy nonchalantly stepped over the floundering bodies and picked up the receiver.

"You took longer than I expected," a voice spoke straight away. "If you're tiring already, this is not going to be as much fun as I hoped."

"I'll try harder next time. Locks and occupants tend to get in my way."

"You ain't seen nothing yet."

"Oh please don't do that," Buffy sighed dramatically. "Slang from the mouth of an Englishman grates on the ear. Tell me, is this another Council test or a sick way of seeing me off."

"The Watcher's Council haven't the courage or the resolve to be so severe. It takes a man more committed to ensuring there is an effective weapon out there against the hordes from Hell..."

"Be careful now, you're starting to reveal your insanity. Let me talk to Willow."

"Still making demands, I see."

"I'm still a teenager, so sue me."

"I'm fine, Buffy," Willow's voice barely reached Buffy's hearing.

"The next leg of your journey takes you underground. Some close quarter fighting should be exhilarating, or rather hot and sweaty and poorly ventilated. Go to the intersection of the sewers where Main Street meets the North South road. You'll find a message in a bottle giving directions to your next location. Have fun or have a heart attack, whatever."

"Buffy, please don't..." Willow screamed before she could finish. Her captor hung up the phone.

Buffy put the receiver back. She wiped the gore from her blade and replaced it in its holder and left the building.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she reached the road, Buffy looked left and right getting her bearings. She satisfied herself which direction Main Street lay and picked out the nearest manhole cover. Taking no notice of passers by who may find it odd, she lifted off the cover and descended into the bowels of Sunnydale, where the other half lived.

The demon's highway was lit by bare light bulbs crudely but efficiently strung along the ceiling at intervals; close enough to light the way, but not enough to prevent shadows. The sense of mystery and suspense that pervaded could almost have been intentional.

Buffy afforded herself a minutes rest. Her mind, however, was not so generous. She recalled the night she had entered the labyrinth of tunnels to face the Master. She had been determined to defy the prophecy then, but equally prepared to die if necessary. Now the Master was dead and she had been given five years of life since. Had she reached her natural life span? "Just one more night will suffice," she uttered into the gloom ahead.

She walked the tunnel for about a mile. Her eyes were now accustomed to the poor light and she no longer gagged at the stench of Sunnydale's waste. She knew she was close when she heard voices up ahead. She turned a bend in the road above and faced several horned monsters dredged up from a child's worse nightmare. She counted eight, all taller than her. She laughed at the last thought. It wasn't hard after all to be taller than her. She wondered whether she was the shortest slayer ever.

"You know why I'm here," she spoke to the tunnel's guards. "I don't suppose you'd let me pass. I promise to return later to fight, if you want." They advanced as one, or rather in twos as the tunnel was only wide enough for a pair at a time. Once again she pulled the blade from its holster. The front rank lunged for the Slayer. She swung left and right with blade. It hit both sides of the tunnel on its journey from side to side, causing sparks to fly as metal hit stone. One demon let out a low agonising wail as it clutched the stump where a hand had existed before. Blood escaped through the wound at pressure, mingling with the six-inch deep water that flowed along the floor of the tunnel. It splattered against the wall and over Buffy's blouse. She followed through the attack with a stabbing motion to the victim's chest. The blade hit slight resistance as the demon's skin was like leather and the machete wasn't designed for stabbing. One down, seven to go.

She pulled the blade from the demon's stomach, the effort to extricate the weapon from its ribcage requiring two hands on the hilt. Still holding it thus, she jumped in the air and swung the machete with all the force she could muster and sliced the head off the second. She landed back on the ground and didn't wait for a response from its companions. Taking the fight to them she rammed the next two with her shoulder. One went down into the slime with Buffy on top of him. Lying on her back on its stomach she backward elbowed it in the face and held up the machete as another lunge forward, taking the monster in the chest. Before the latter could fall on her, however, she twisted the blade to the left causing the dead weight to fall to the side. Buffy leapt off the first demon and pulled the blade out. The first demon recovered from the elbow strike but only enough to see it's killer drive her weapon through its heart. Three down, five to go, she mentally counted.

The others stood a respectful distance back, stunned at the ferocity of the fight. They had seen three companions killed in fewer minutes. They backed away, each one fearful to take the initiative. The Slayer seemed possessed. She held up her blade and charged, a berserker cry escaping her slight frame. She reached them before they could turn and escape. The blade glinted silver and bloody as it passed downwards through the rays of light emitted by the bulbs hanging from the ceiling. It then disappeared into shadows on the upward swings. Some sweeps of the metal were indiscernible when Buffy hit and smashed some of the bulbs.

One demon fell to the floor shorn in half by a two handed swing. A second fell clutching its innards as a result of the return swing. A third demon managed to get in a strike to Buffy's body. She lifted off the floor and flew two feet backwards into the effluent. Un-fazed by the impact, she flipped up to a standing position and continued her advance unyielding.

The one who had struck her lost its legs below the knees and almost gratefully took its deathblow. Its nearest companion backed up to the wall and begged for several seconds before it met its fate. The last demon took flight. Buffy gave chase. She turned a corner to find her quarry standing where the two roads above met. He held a bottle in his hand. "Is this what you want?" He uttered, defiantly standing his ground before his inevitable killer. He smashed it against the side of the tunnel.

"No!" Buffy screamed. She threw the machete full force. It embedded itself half way deep in the demons chest, but too late to prevent it from tearing the paper and releasing the fragments into the water below.

Chapter Nine:

She stood frozen between the intersection of Main Street and the North South Road as though she were set in amber at a particular moment. The trickle of Sunnydale's waste still flowed, however, and it took the torn pieces of paper and Willow's location with it.

In her mind's eye Buffy saw Merrick attack the vampire and fall before her. She saw a young girl introduce herself to Giles in his library and then drag him to the ground in grief over Jenny's death. She drove the sword into Angel and the blade into Faith. "Buffy!" Shouted Merrick. "Buffy!" Giles screamed in anguish. "Buffy?" Angel mouthed in shock. Faith's fall from the ledge was wordless but spoke louder than the others. "Buffy!" Spike yelled into her face.

"Buffy!" Spike yelled again, this time shaking the Slayer by her shoulders.

She emerged from her trance. "Willow!" She screamed into the tunnels all around her.

Spike held her close to his body. Her legs gave way under her and he lowered her to a ledge that ran around the large atrium created for the merging of the sewers.

"What're you doing here?" Buffy asked eventually; her tone more ungracious than she meant it to be.

"Giles called me and told me what was going on. I killed a few lowlifes until one revealed where you would be and I'm here."

"Cool... if not too inspired."

"That's not all of it; I tortured the location of Red from it as well."

Buffy grabbed the bleach haired figure beside her. "Willow...? Where?"

"Would you believe Sunnydale High?" As if on cue, thunder clapped above them.

Buffy reached over to embrace Spike, but he pulled away. "No, don't. I'd rather get drunk on alcohol than a memory... besides, you smell." Buffy smiled. "Unless of course you want have sex," he added.

"You're an enigma, Spike," Buffy stated matter of factly as she attempted to stand. She was hit by a shooting pain that seemed to course her veins and made her stumble backwards again.

"You should rest."

"No time."

"Nonsense, I've saved you an hour, at least. I'll drive you there."

"No! He said come alone or... anyway, thank you but no." She braced her rib cage with one arm and used the other to push herself up and away from the wall. She met a barrier of nausea and pain, but brushed it aside as though planning to deal with it later.

"I'll miss you, Slayer," Spike uttered.

"Fuck you," she laughed. "I'm not dead yet!" She took toddler steps forward testing her strength. "Don't skirt round the issue will you."

"You'd hate me more if I sympathised and patronised... hey that rhymed." The vampire rejoiced.

"I think I'll try extra hard to stay alive just to spite you. Don't worry Spike, we'll get that fight to the death we've been meaning to have."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A bombed out building, a blackened doorway, a rat scampering across a broken corridor: Sunnydale High resembled a twisted memory; a gothic vision of decay lit by flashes of lightening from outside that hit metal lockers and puddles of rain water. Buffy made slow progress over fallen debris and furniture and from veering alarmingly in a haze of pain; every step stabbing her sides, pounding her head, catching her breath.

A tall muscular vampire blocked her way. She raised one leg and drove her foot into its kneecap. The demon crumpled to its knees and Buffy swung a knife left to right, cutting its throat in one smooth waste free moment. She then drove a stake through its back as it lay face down. This was the fifth such meeting since she had entered the school grounds. Her heart raced to pump the adrenaline the hunt was creating, but it also laboured to keep her alive; being pushed to the limits it was not meant to reach.

In between flashes of lightening Buffy caught the sudden spark of light from a classroom at the end of the corridor. The light remained alive and flickered from the broken doorway giving away its origin. She stood in the doorway and saw a burning torch crudely tied to a wall light. Its aura showed two figures: a man holding tightly a young woman.

"You took your time getting here," the man's voice emerged from the dim light ahead. "I thought you'd be here sooner after receiving help from your pet vampire. What's up, not feeling too good? You don't look too healthy. Is the clock ticking away, the sand running out - I'm sorry, but I'm enjoying this."

Buffy approached closer but stopped short when the man tightened his grip on Willow and she caught sight of the knife he held to her stomach.

"And you know what is so sublime? I'm not a demon! I'm as human as you... well in so far as a freak of nature like you is human. I'm a man with no powers and yet I've forced you here and weakened you. When you're dead, and I might add you're taking a damn long time about it, when you're dead a younger fitter model will come along. Hopefully she'll be more cooperative than you or that bitch in Los Angeles."

The Slayer wanted to lunge with the remaining strength she had but knew that she wouldn't reach him in time; Willow would be dead before she made two steps, just like the girl in the alley the night before. He noticed her indecision.

"What to do? Do you attack me or not? If you do I'll kill your friend and you die from the effort. If you don't you'll die from the effort of getting here anyway, not knowing what I'll do afterwards. Ain't life a bitch?"

"Why?"

"Why what?" He countered taken off guard by the question.

"Why all this effort to get me to burn out?"

"The answer is in the question, my dear. The fight must go on against the nightmares from Hell. To fight the war we need the best weapons, the fittest warriors. You are yesterday's model who would rather settle down and make friends with the enemy than slay." Buffy fell to her knees: the pain taking its toll. "Time to die," he said. "You were a worthy weapon, but time to die..."

"I'm a human being, damn you!" Buffy screamed in anguish, her arms wrapped round her body.

"Buffy," Willow spoke up for the first time. The Slayer looked up and into her friend's eyes. The Wicca moved forward into the point of the blade held at her side. She made a faint sound as it pierced her dress and the flesh underneath.

"No!" Buffy screamed out.

The Watcher pulled the knife out and stepped back in shock. Willow crumpled to the floor "I didn't do it... she... it wasn't me," he stammered. "I wouldn't have harmed her. It was you I wanted." He stepped away from the girl lying near him.

Buffy ignore him. She found the strength to drag herself to her feet and walk to Willow's side. She lowered herself back to the floor and dragged her friend's still breathing form to her. Willow's eyes opened and she smiled weakly. Buffy hugged her tightly.

"Hey! Knife wound in the side," the redhead complained. Buffy laughed; the sound coming in short grasps of air as though she were struggling to breathe.

The Watcher backed away from the two girls, all his resolve gone, yet not able to run.

"Did you act alone?" Buffy asked looking up him.

"Yes. I told you before, the Council couldn't pick up the..." He didn't get time to finish his sentence. He slammed back into the wall of the classroom, a six-inch knife protruding from his chest. He grabbed the hilt and made to pull it out, but the pain it caused made him stop.

Buffy watched as drops of blood flowed down the still visible part of the blade and fell to the ground. The droplets hit a puddle of water. The red bloomed into a rose like creation before it spread in tendrils and merged into clear to create a blend of pink.

"But... I'm human," the victim barely uttered. Buffy ignored him, instead tending to her friend. The Watcher collapsed unnoticed to the ground, dead before he hit the floor.

"Are you ok?" Willow asked the blonde girl holding her.

"No. Can we go home now?"

"Yes, of course. How exactly?"

"Perhaps we can catch a cab." Buffy offered.

"I'm not exactly looking my best... and you smell." Willow felt her friend's body go heavy on her. "Hey, Buffy," she nudged her back to consciousness. "I'll do you a deal, ok? You don't die, I don't die. The first one to recover buys the other a new dress... deal?"

"That's not fair. You're likely to recover sooner."

"Hey! I've have been stabbed, you know."

"Well, to be totally accurate, you stabbed yourself." Buffy warmed to the topic.

"Yea? Well you're the Slayer, so heal... Buffy...?"

Chapter Ten:

Willow walked slowly down the corridor. She shuffled along, taking care not to exert herself too much on her first trip out of her hospital room. She eventually reached her destination: a glass partitioned room with blinds for privacy. The young red head stood in the doorway, using the left side to hold herself steady and her free hand to brush her hair back better to see Giles sitting by Buffy's bedside.

"Whatcha thinking?" She asked affectionately as she slowly approached the Watcher.

"Willow," he acknowledged. "Just hanging on in quiet desperation," he quoted. "Should you be up?"

"Probably not, but it was either that or go insane in a rather undignified manner." She flashed him a wide smile that Giles found infectious despite the still form laying next to him and the tuneless sounds from the monitors.

"Has there been any change?" Willow asked glancing over at Buffy.

"No... which is a good thing, not necessarily bad," he added quickly.

They both sat quietly, allowing the beeping of the monitor to count away the minutes.

"Have you decided yet... about you and her?" Willow added when her sudden question was met with a questioning look.

Giles didn't answer straight away. He watched Buffy slowly inhale and exhale in rhythm with the machinery. "I can't help thinking of her and Angel. Their love was so fierce. They wrung every emotion in their short time together; affection, exasperation, humour..."

"...And finally an acceptance that they couldn't be together," Willow interrupted.

"The love is still there, though."

"Of course."

"And Riley..."

"Riley was too hung up with his own feelings of inadequacy, and Angel... he was her first, so will always be special."

"What can I offer?"

"An understanding of what she is and an appreciation of what it means as well, which neither Angel nor Riley could figure. Stability and continuity and tenderness..."

"But not protection from harm..."

"She doesn't want James Bond." Willow stated humorously.

"That's good to know. I've always seen myself as more Harry Palmer than 007; I have the glasses and I used to have the unfashionable car. I shop for groceries..."

"...And you can cook too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hello, Buffy. How are you feeling?" Giles asked simply. She had regained consciousness that morning; two days after Spike had brought her and Willow to the hospital.

"Uncomfortable. Hello, Giles."

"Uncomfortable?"

"Very. This tube up my nose itches. This tube connected to my wrist is sore, and last but certainly not least, I have three electrode things attached to my chest which, by the way, I think the doctor got more than professional satisfaction in attaching."

"Besides that?" The Watcher asked calmly, fighting back a smile.

"Peachy. How's Willow?"

"She's fine."

Buffy nodded her head accepting the answer. She then looked away. She tried to wipe a tear away with her right hand, but the tubes prevented her. She slammed her hand down frustrated and used her left instead. "Good, I'm glad she's ok," she said. "Did Tara arrive safely?"

"Yes, a little late but... Buffy what's wrong?" He laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I killed him, Giles." She didn't need to say whom; Willow had given Giles all the details of that night. "I killed him. I could have wounded him or let him go even; he didn't pose any real risk and the Council would have tracked him down, but I chose to kill him instead and enjoyed it." She let her tears fall unhindered.

"I won't condone what you did, Buffy, but your remorse now..."

"Perhaps it's just as well we die young; the things we see and are forced to do would be too much to bear in a natural life span," she continued. "I've seen things no one should see and remember afterwards. And I'm tired, Giles. I don't want to fight it anymore. Let me go and another be called in my place."

"Buffy, you're not dying. You came close... the closest yet..."

"I'm not..."

"No, you silly girl," Giles admonished affectionately.

"Oh. That kind of makes my whole death speech rather redundant."

"Just a bit. It was very touching, though. Melodramatic and..."

"Hey, I came on to you all vulnerable and you're making wisecracks about me coming on to you all vulnerable. Isn't that kind of contemptible?"

"Xander's been teaching me. The important thing is that you will recover and we will both find a way to meet our calling... together," he added. Buffy didn't take the bait. "Buffy, about what I said that night, before you left..."

"Don't worry, Giles I won't hold you to it. If we're both honest, neither of us thought I'd still be alive today..."

"I'm serious..."

"I know, you sweet man, but I couldn't put you through... not after Jenny. Besides, you're too tall. I really need to date someone my own height."

Epilogue

Giles went about his evening ritual: he carried a tray to the table in front of his settee and sat himself down with a large book on twelfth century demonology. Before he could settle, however, he heard a key in his front door and the familiar creek as it was opened. He craned his neck round to see who the visitor was. Buffy stood in the doorway.

"Sorry. I know I should have knocked first, but I found this small box in my jacket pocket." She held up the box he had given her on her birthday for him to see. "It had a key inside." Giles stood up and approached to within a couple of feet of the young girl. "Anyway," she continued, "I've been wandering around Sunnydale trying different locks and thought I'd try this one..."

They both looked at each other for long seconds before she finally entered the apartment proper. Giles tentatively held out his arms and Buffy linked hers and held him close, her head nestled on his chest.

"Do I call you Rupert?"

"You do just once and I'll kick your butt back out the door."

"Oooh, I hit a sore point. I'll have to file that one away... and 'kick my butt'? Where did you learn that, the mean streets of Oxford?"

"Yes. You get a large number of Americans at Oxford."

They sat together on the settee.

"You know that some people will talk... disapprove even," Giles commented not caring, however.

"Let them. In the scheme of things people shouldn't be too bothered by this ending. I mean it's not the end of the world. Besides, even if most people want Scully to get together with Mulder, there are a few out there who want her to be with Skinner."

Giles nodded sagely. "Of course, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Oh, Giles."