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Willow responded to the beeping on the computer through some instinct, bred into her bones. She pushed the button, sat in the chair, all in a daze, not really seeing anything, thinking anything.
"Willow," he said. "I got your message." And she looked at the picture on her screen, looked at her husband, and actually saw him. Willow began to cry, the sobs tearing from her. She’d cried so much already, she felt dry, as if there were no more tears left in her. But there were always more tears. "What’s wrong?" he asked in a frantic voice. "What happened?"
"It’s Buffy," Willow sobbed. Oz looked terrified, but stayed calm.
"I’m coming baby," he said, "I’m coming." And Willow continued to cry.
Xander couldn’t move, couldn’t think. He felt as if the world had stopped, as if all the lights had been turned off. He couldn’t even cry. He could only hold Cordelia and repeat it over and over in his mind, seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, trying to remember the last time he’d told her he loved her. If he ever had.
"What’s wrong?" Zoe asked, her seven-year-old mind unable to comprehend what was happening. Why her parents were so sad. Why her mother, her beautiful confident mother, was crying.
"Aunt Buffy’s gone away," Xander answered, knowing Cordelia couldn’t. He held her and she cried, and he tried to comprehend what had happened.
"Where did she go?" Zoe asked.
"To heaven," Cordelia sobbed. "She went to heaven."
"Come on Zo," Cleo said softly, old enough to know that her parents needed time. As if time would ever fix the hurt. But Xander couldn’t tell his daughters that. They would find it out someday on their own. Someday they would realize what it was to lose someone they loved. Xander only prayed it wouldn’t be for a very, very long time.
"Xander," Cordelia whispered. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against hers.
"I’m here Cor. I’m not going anywhere."
"Xander she can’t-can’t-she can’t—" Cordelia sobbed. He knew what she was saying, what she meant. Buffy couldn’t be dead. It was impossible. Buffy was the most alive person he knew. She couldn’t be dead. Not like this. Not so suddenly. And since it couldn’t be real Xander couldn’t cry.
"I know, love," he murmured. And he did know. And he couldn’t cry.
He’d known it was coming. It should have been years before, after all. It should have been when she was sixteen and faced the Master. He’d been prepared for it then. Never accepting, but at least prepared. And when she got pregnant . . . he’d accepted her lost forever. It had hurt like losing a limb. Like losing a child. He only hoped she was happy wherever she was, and Willow assured him she was. It had hurt to lose Kendra, but not as it had hurt to see Buffy walk out of the library and know she wouldn’t come back.
Except she had.
He’d never told her how much joy it had given an aging man when she came back. He’d never told her how much he had missed her all those years. He’d never said a word. And now it was too late. Now she was gone.
He should have been prepared. But he wasn’t.
The library was empty except for Giles and his memories. He could almost see her coming in for the first time, her cheerful voice and the look on her face when he showed her the Book of Vampyr. She’d been so adamant about having a normal life. And yet somehow she took up her duties anyway, and despite all the complaints, she’d performed them like no other Slayer in history. He’d grown to look forward to her acerbic comments and mixed-up facts. And then he’d lost Jenny and Buffy all in a few months. And then, that same year, Kendra had gone too.
He’d continued on as librarian, though he never knew why he didn’t return to England. But there was still work to be done in Sunnydale, so he stayed. And she came back. She came back. He didn’t feel old or lonely anymore. He felt like a grandfather, teaching his grandchildren what he’d taught his children before them. Kailyn was so like Buffy and so different. And Tristan—it was hard at first, because he looked so like Angel and Angel had killed Jenny, but after a while Giles realized they were very different and grew to love Tristan too. Soon the twins would be leaving him, going off to college. And now Buffy had left. But this time she would never come back.
Giles cried because he’d lost a daughter and she’d never known she was. He’d never told her what a brilliant Slayer she was. He’d never budged an inch, given her a word more of praise than was necessary. And now she was gone.
It was dark there, and lonely again without her light.
Kailyn held Tristan’s hand very tightly, and tried not to do the same to her grandmother. Tristan could take the full strength of a half-vampire/Slayer’s grip, but Joyce couldn’t. Kailyn wasn’t quite sure how she could even be aware of something like that. Somehow the little things had become very clear lately. Like the dirt crumbling into the die of the grave. The wood polish glinting on the coffin. Cordelia’s chipped nail polish. Her nail polish was never chipped.
The words of the reverend echoed emptily through her head, as had Giles and Willow’s eulogies earlier. Nothing seemed to penetrate. All she saw was Ellomarin’s smile. The blood on the sword.
"Kailyn," Tristan whispered. She looked at him, some part of her mind recognizing her name. He motioned toward the grave. She detached her hand from her grandmother’s, who gave a sob, and walked towards the open grave, still clinging to Tristan. As one they leaned down and took handfuls of dirt, throwing it onto the coffin. There was a soft patter as it hit the wood. Joyce came forward and threw a handful, and then Giles and her grandfather Hank. Xander and Cordelia came and Willow and Oz. Willow was crying. Oz’s hair was black and so were his fingernails. He looked goth. Kailyn saw the vampire’s smile.
They stood there for a moment, looking down at the coffin with blank stares. Tristan was crying. Kailyn couldn’t cry. She was out of tears. All she had left was hate. And that horrible, horrible smile.
"I’m going to go home and get everything ready," Joyce said as people started to dissipate. Hank went with her. Raven and Eli came to hug them and say they’d be at the reception. Sarah said how sorry she was. A tiny part of Kailyn’s mind was suprised to see her. An endless stream of friends and family members they’d never even met came to say how sorry they were and how wonderful she’d been. Kailyn wanted it to be over. She knew how wonderful she was, and every moment she stood there was a moment she wasn’t hunting Buffy’s killer.
Finally there was only the twins, Giles, Willow and Oz and Xander and Cordelia left. Joyce had taken the children back to her house. Xander started to cry. Kailyn closed her eyes and saw the smile. She opened them again. Giles wasn’t wearing tweed. Cordelia’s hair was messy, and her mascara was running. Willow’s eyes were red and there were huge dark circles under them, like she hadn’t slept in days. She probably hadn’t.
"Come on," Oz said softly, leading his wife away from the grave. She went with him, still sobbing. They stopped to say a temporary good bye to Kailyn and Tristan. Just as Buffy had wanted, the twins were moving in with the couple. Joyce had sold her big house long before and lived in an apartment much to small for two teenagers. Xander and Cordelia followed soon, kissing the twins on the cheeks before leaving. Giles still stood there, looking down into the grave. He left without a word to either of them. And they were alone.
"We should go," Tristan said. "They’ll be waiting for us."
"Yes, we should go," Kailyn said. "But not home." Her brother looked at her, suprised.
"Where?" he asked, even though he already knew. Kailyn looked up and met his green eyes with her own dark ones.
"You go to the reception. I’ll come soon," she said.
"Kai—"
"Just go Tristan," she said, and for the first time since Buffy died he saw awareness in Kailyn’s eyes.
"Be careful," he said. She smiled, a tragic, bittersweet smile, the corner of her mouth twisting upwards.
"I will," she promised. "I love you."
"I love you too Kai," Tristan said. She got on her toes and kissed his cheek, and then turned and walked away—away from her brother, her mother’s grave, and all the tears. What she needed now wasn’t grief. What she needed now was anger.
"Find her," it said. "Stop her before it is too late. Before she loses
everything." Tristan didn’t know who was telling him this, but he knew
he had to listen. He excused himself politely, told him grandmother that
he was going to find Kailyn, grabbed his sunglasses and left the house.
The rage that was Kailyn was growing stronger, turning into sometime
more, something worse. The need for pain, for blood. Tristan began to
run.
She was here, Kailyn could feel her. While Buffy had been somewhat
lacking in the ability to sense vampires that Slayer’s often had, Kailyn
had it in full strength. And Ellomarin was inside the factory. Kailyn
didn’t care about suprising her. She would win, of that there was no
question. The important part was after she had the vampire at her mercy.
The important part was making her hurt.
"Kailyn!" Tristan called. She spun to face him.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"You can’t do this Kai," he said in a firm voice. She blinked in
confusion.
"What are you talking about? She killed Mom! She must die!"
"No, she must die because she is a vampire and she will kill others,"
Tristan said gently.
"It doesn’t matter!" Kailyn exclaimed, turning to go inside. Tristan
caught her arms. "Let me go!"
"Kai, listen to me. She deserves to die, I agree. She needs to die. But
you want to torture her." Kailyn spun back, wondering how he knew and
knowing at the same time. Because she knew what he wanted. They were
twins, linked from birth. Two halves of a whole.
"So? She deserves that too!"
"No! She doesn’t! Or maybe she does, but it will hurt you more than it
will hurt her," he insisted.
"What do you mean? It won’t hurt me. Tristan, I’m the Slayer. I kill
vampires."
"But you don’t beat them. Or you shouldn’t. It isn’t your job to inflict
punishment Kai. It isn’t your job to judge them. Only to kill them."
"That’s all I do!"
"No! You hurt them. But you don’t hurt them for them. You don’t hurt
them because of what they did. You hurt them because of you. Because you
like the feeling of power. You hurt them because you want to. Remember
what she said? She said, if you have to kill them, kill them quickly."
"We’re not talking about just any vampire here Tristan! We’re talking
about the vampire that killed her! Mom’s dead because of a vampire
that’s almost within my power!"
"It doesn’t matter. She said, if you have to do it, do it quickly.
Promise me you’ll do it quickly Kai," Tristan said. She’d never heard
him sound so demanding. She’d never seen him so strong. She’d always
been the strong one, the fiery one. And here he was demanding a promise
from her. A promise she couldn’t give.
"I can’t promise that," she snarled, pulling her arm away. "You know I
can’t!"
"Just this once, Kai. Promise me you’ll make it quick." Suddenly she was
crying, a lost helpless little girl.
"I can’t. Especially not this time. Any other time. Tristan, this is all
I have. I couldn’t save her. At least let me revenge her," Kailyn
sobbed.
"That’s not true. You have so much more Kai. You have friends and
family. You have me. And you have yourself. Don’t forget that. You have
yourself. Don’t let go of that. You have yourself. Don’t forget yourself
in revenge. You’re so much more important than that. You’re so much more
than just the Slayer. Please Kai, promise me," Tristan asked, and he was
crying too.
"I promise," she sobbed. "I promise." And before he could stop her she’d
broken away and was through the door, into the dark factory.
Tristan watched it all, and prayed. He watched Kailyn pull out the sword
their mother had died using, and he watched as Ellomarin pulled out a
different one, no longer stained with blood. He wanted them face off,
watched the blades flash. Tristan saw the lightening-quick slashes ad
ripostes and thrusts and parries. He saw Ellomarin falter and recover,
saw the red of blood from a slash on her cheek. He held his breath as
Kailyn barely dodged a vicious slash. And then he saw it, as if in slow
motion—Kailyn’s sword hooked Ellomarin’s, twisted and then the bright
blade was flying across the room and the vampire had a sword to it’s
throat.
Everything had come down to this moment. Kailyn longed to cut Ellomarin
a thousand times, to break every bone and laugh at her as she writhed in
agony. She longed to make her pay, to feel the rush of power. But she
had promised.
her mother’s voice whispered to her. Kailyn thrust away the whisper,
felt her game face appearing, but the voice returned and the part of her
that was a vampire was thrust away by the power in her mother’s soft
voice. Kailyn held the sword at Ellomarin’s throat, and told herself not
to let her arm tremble. The vampire was watching her warily, and then
with shock and amazement, as the Slayer’s face flowed from human to
vampire and back again, as the Slayer and the creature of darkness
fought over the life of a vampire and the soul of a girl.
Everything in Kailyn screamed to hurt Ellomarin. Everything but one
small, very calm part that was crying for her mother. One part that
wanted only to mourn, to feel the grief and let it pass. And which was
the true her? Which was the part her mother had told her to find? Was it
the part that wanted to kill, or the part that wanted to grieve? Was
revenge more worthwhile than tears? At least it was doing something. And
the need for blood was so strong.
"You promised," her brother’s voice said in her mind. She had promised.
And yet . . . her mother urged. A third, unfamiliar voice joined in.
Kailyn’s arm moved, lifted to end it, then stopped. If she killed
Ellomarin, it would be over. She would have no excuse left. No duty to
perform. Only the hurt, the sorrow. Nothing to ease it.
"You will have you," her mother’s voice whispered.
"I will be here," Tristan promised. "Please Kai, end it. End it and
grieve with me. I need you more than your revenge does. I need you to
end it Kai."
"Once you start down that path every step makes it harder to go back,"
the third voice said. "Don’t start."
"Please Kai. Please end it," her brother’s voice said, and she never
knew whether he truly spoke or not. But that was enough. Kailyn lifted
the sword, and in one movement, finished it. She dropped the blade from
numb fingers and her whole body slumped, as if all energy, all will had
disappeared into dust with her enemy.
"Kailyn," Tristan said, and he was behind her. She looked up at him, her
eyes do, so dark and his so very light.
"I have nothing left," she said. "Nothing."
"No," he replied. "You have everything." He opened his arms and she
rushed into them, sobbing for the first time in days.
"She’s gone," Kailyn cried. "How could she leave us? How could she die?"
"She didn’t leave us," Tristan answered. "Didn’t you hear her? She’s
here. She has to be here, until you let her go. Don’t you see, it’s us
that’s holding her here. As she held Dad for so long. Let her go Kai."
"I can’t," his sister sobbed. "I can’t!"
a whisper came. And so Kailyn Summers did another impossible thing,
she let her mother go.
"Good bye," she whispered. "Good bye."
"We’ll always be here," two voices said. Buffy and Angel. Together
finally. "We’ll always be watching you. We’ll always love you." And then
they were gone, and Kailyn and Tristan Summers, light and dark, day and
night, learned how to grieve and how to let go.