|
|
Part 6
“How are you holding up?” Oz asked. Willow sighed.
“I’m all right, I guess,” she replied. “It’s so hard to see her so helpless and know there’s nothing I can do. She’d saved me so many times, I just wish I could save her this once.”
“No one expects you to save her,” Oz said softly. They were at dinner, finally, though Willow still wasn’t sure she should be there.
“I know. But *I* expect me to,” Willow said, looking down at the table. He reached over and put his hand on hers, trying to comfort her, she knew.
She freaked.
Willow pulled her hand away quickly and stood up so suddenly she knocked her chair over.
“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I have to go! Thank you.” He was staring at her, confused, but she couldn’t explain. She didn’t know herself. All she knew was that she had to get away, to go home, but as she turned to the door she realized she couldn’t do it by herself. She turned back, her eyes pleading. “Will you take me home?” He nodded and stood up, picking up their coats and leaving money on the table for the dinner they hadn’t even touched. He gave her her coat, but she shied away from his touch and when she finally took it, wrapped it tightly around her, as if it would protect her. She climbed into the van silently and wouldn’t speak to him as he drove her. Couldn’t speak to him.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he pulled up in front of her house. “I just wanted to help. I just wanted you to have a nice night.”
“I know. And it’s me that should be sorry. I . . . I can’t handle this. I don’t know if I ever will be able to. I don’t want love, Oz, or anything resembling it. I just want peace,” Willow said, and was out of the van before he could reply, running to her front door and fumbling with the locks, crying the whole time.
Angel’s hand caressed her cheek, brushed back her hair, saw her face in the darkness. She felt his lips brush her shoulder, her throat, catch her mouth. Her hands were on him, feeling him, knowing him, every part, inside and out.
Soft, sweet whispers and the silky feel of bare skin.
Darkness and eternal light.
Together always.
Neither of them knew it would be the last time.
Buffy stopped suddenly, when she heard a noise. She’d been pacing restlessly in one of the town’s many graveyards, contemplating nothing, feeling nothing, as closed off as she’d been since she heard . . . except with Angel. When they were alone. When they were together. The only time she could let her emotions show. Anywhere else and she wasn’t strong anymore, she was unfit to be the Slayer. With Angel, she was safe. Here, she was not.
“Hello Slayer,” a voice said and she whirled around to see him. Hashim. It must be. He had been in her dream.
He was huge, a towering giant of a vampire, and, from the way he moved, she could tell he was quick as well, and agile and cunning. He watched her with slitted eyes.
“Ready to die?” he asked. Buffy considered it a moment.
“Suprisingly, no, considering the amount of encouragement I’ve been getting lately. You know what, I am so not having a good day. In fact, it’s majorly sucking. No pun intended. Not the vampire kind of sucking either . . . sucking as in way egregious. And what the hell does egregious mean anyway?” Buffy demanded irritably. Hashim only smiled. “You know, that little smile is only making me MORE aggravated, and I REALLY wouldn’t suggest that right now. I’m already looking forward to killing you WAY too much. I’m going to have to see my therapist about this!”
“You’ll never see anyone again Slayer,” Hashim taunted.
“Oh, I didn’t see THAT one coming!” Buffy exclaimed, suddenly launching into a roundhouse on his face. He didn’t move at first, then grabbed her leg and flipped her. Buffy rolled from her fall, coming up easily.
“Having fun?” he inquired nastily.
“And such! Better ‘n having teeth pulled.”
“I’m so glad.”
“You should be. When I start NOT having fun, you’re going to start dying,” Buffy informed him sweetly. He attacked, hitting her low. She jumped back, then backhanded him before he regained his balance. He wobbled slightly, but stood firm. She kicked him in the chest, then the stomach, and punched him in the eye. He stumbled back but didn’t fall.
“See, Slayer? None of your kind have ever beat me, and none ever will,” Hashim laughed.
“Wrong! No Slayers beat you before, but there’s a first time for everything, and I like breaking records,” Buffy said. He lifted his arm to backhand her, but she blocked his arm, grabbing it to flip him. His feet stayed rooted to the ground. He lifted the other arm and hit Buffy to the ground—splitting her lip at the same time—before she could realize what was going on. He laughed—a chilling sound—and stepped forward, taking Buffy’s head between his large hands.
“I’d like the taste of your blood, but the feel of your pretty little head smashing will be even better,” he growled.
“Thanks so much,” Buffy muttered through grated teeth. “But you know what . . . NO! I’m having enough problems with the head already. With my luck, you’re probably miss the tumor altogether, so I’m going with NOT!” On the last word, Buffy grabbed his arms and used them to flip herself around, landing with her back to him. She jerked her head back into his face, then followed it with an elbow in the eye. He let her go and she spun, grabbing frantically in her pocket for a stake. Her hand closed around one just as he advanced on her again.
“You will die Slayer,” he said.
“You’re right, but YOU aren’t going to be around when I do,” Buffy said. He looked suprised at her admission, but only smiled nastily.
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Oh. I am,” Buffy said, flipping forward suddenly and coming up inches in front of him. “Suprise. Happy death day.” He tried to hit her, but she was too close. For once, her smallness worked for her, his size against him. He grabbed her, lifting her off the ground, but not in time to stop the stake from going in. He dissolved into dust and Buffy—floating inches off the ground—fell to the hard dirt of the graveyard. She didn’t move. She didn’t open her eyes.
Angel found her there, several minutes later. He came running in and saw the dust—quite a lot since he’d been so old—and the stake. And then he saw Buffy.
He cried her name and it echoed across the silent graveyard.
She came awake in the darkness. Her eyes were closed. She didn’t open them; listened instead, to the voice that she loved more than anything in the world. It took a moment before the words sunk in.
“She won’t be able to leave the hospital?” he asked. She stiffened, but didn’t open her eyes. Not yet.
“Not and live. I’m sorry, Mr. Summers, but she’s deteriorated so rapidly . . . in the hospital we might be able to keep her alive for an indefinite period of time but without the care we can only give her here . . .” the unfamiliar female voice trailed off.
“She’ll die,” Angel finished, such agony in his voice that it hurt Buffy to hear it and know she was the cause. It had been so long since she’d heard that pain in his voice . . . she had hoped that she would never hear it again. Would never feel it herself. She’d lost him once before, she couldn’t again. But then again, it would be him losing her, wouldn’t it? “She hates hospitals.”
“That’s assuming she wakes up,” the woman said again.
“She will, won’t she?” Willow’s voice asked anxiously. Without seeing, Buffy could tell there were eight people in the room. She could list them. Angel. Willow. Giles. Her mother. Xander. Cordelia. Oz. And the woman . . . a doctor, she was sure.
“Probably. Do you know what led up to her fainting?” the doctor asked again. “Think very hard. Were there any signs?”
“Sh-she was alone,” Giles put in, his voice very sad and very, very weary.
“From her bruises and her split lip it seems she was in some sort of fight. Perhaps she was mugged. We can’t know how badly hurt she was, other than the fact she’s not bleeding internally,” the doctor said.
“She won’t be able to get up? Like at all?” Cordelia asked. There was a pause and Buffy could almost see the doctor shaking her head. “Major sadness.”
“Not if she wants to live. She could leave . . . it’s her choice, or yours Mr. Summers, if she goes into a deeper coma. She’d die within the day though.”
“Oh my poor baby!” Joyce cried softly.
“We’ll keep her here, of course,” Angel said. Buffy took a deep breath.
“No,” she said, opening her eyes. “We won’t.” They all froze in shock and then Angel was beside her in an instant.
“C-can we have a minute?” Giles asked the doctor.
“After I check her,” the doctor said. She was in her mid-thirties, rather pretty. She looked competent.
“I’m a brain specialist,” she told Buffy. “How are you feeling?” Buffy told her. When she was done she left the room, saying they could have five minutes, but after that she’d be back for more tests.
“Buffy . . . you have to stay. You’ll die otherwise,” Willow said, her voice breaking. Oz moved towards her, but stopped suddenly, and looked away.
“Maybe that’s for the best,” Buffy replied. There was a cry of protest. “I’m not saying I want to die. In fact, I really, *really* don’t. But what if I stay here ‘indeterminably?’ I obviously won’t be doing any Slaying. Who’s going to keep evil at bay? I know any of you would be happy to try, but you can’t. Only I can. And whoever becomes Slayer when I die. If I go now, whoever it is will have that much more time to get adjusted before some big vamp you guys can’t handle comes along. Angel, I know you could probably do it all, but I can’t ask that of you. What if something happened I couldn’t stand it.”
“I can’t stand watching this happen to you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. She reached over to caress his cheek.
“I know. But it will be quicker this way. Besides . . . I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to die in a hospital. I want to die where I’ve lived for so long. I want to go to the library.” And that was that, because none of them could argue with the logic in her words or the pain in her eyes.