TITLE: On the Edge of Shadows (Little Girl Lost)
AUTHOR: Aurora
DISCLAIMER: It's Joss's world, I just get to play in it for a little 
while.
SPOILERS: Everything up through BtVS 'Smashed' and by extension also 
AtS 'Lullaby'
PAIRING: B/S, B/A (implied)
SUMMARY: After the events of 'Smashed', a new prophecy forces Buffy 
to make a choice that will change everything... (Buffy's POV)
CATEGORY: DarkAngst
RATING: R for dark themes and sexual content
DISTRIBUTION: It's yours if you already have permission, if not ask 
and it shall be given to you.
FEEDBACK: goodness yes, tell me how depressed I made you. Go ahead, 
I'm waiting. girl292@hotmail.com
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Warning: THIS IS NOT A HAPPY FIC. It deals with heavy 
themes 
that might be objectionable to some readers. If you don't like angst 
and woe, stop reading now. Everyone still here? Good, now get to 
reading!
DEDICATION: As always, my eternal gratitude is lavished upon the 
Queen of Angst herself: BehrBeMine, for her undying support and 
fearlessness 
in the face of beta'ing this somber fic. It's all her fault that my 
mind is 
working like this now anyway. Happy ending? Pshaw, I say make me sob, 
tear 
my heart out and make me love you for it dammit!!
**


**
On the Edge of Shadows (Little Girl Lost)
by Aurora
**

**
October 2002
**

I slow my pace from the unconcerned stroll I had carefully been 
projecting to a crawl, knowing that he will show himself now that I 
have left 
the crowds and activity of the main street behind. I come to a complete 
stop just outside the murky circle of light cast by the lone 
functioning 
streetlight in this crappy alleyway ignoring the sudden rush of 
adrenaline released into my bloodstream in anticipation of the hunt, of 
the 
chase, of the kill.

I do not turn around but I know he will follow. I wait until I hear 
it: the sound of broken glass and gravel shifting underneath the trod 
of 
nervous and clumsy feet. I can't suppress an amused smirk as I cross my 
arms in 
front of my chest and speak, still not turning to face him.

"I know you're there. You might as well show yourself." My voice is 
calm, 
laced with the certainty of a predator who has done this many times 
over, 
though I can't conceal a hint of ironic amusement when I stop and think 
about it. After all, it *is* kind of funny. In a sick and twisted 
'welcome 
to the nuthouse' way.

"I am. I've been searching for you." Wow. Color me amazed that he 
got all that out in one sentence with only the trace of a stutter. I 
guess 
you really can teach an old English dog new tricks. "I wasn't certain 
it 
was you. I wanted to be sure before..."

"Come to kill me, Wes?" I interrupt in a tone that registers in my 
mind as vaguely reminiscent of Faith and I quickly push that 
association 
aside. No time to lose focus. I turn around to find him standing under 
the 
dusty halo of light from the streetlamp, seemingly unarmed. Bad move on 
his 
part. I have at least three weapons hidden in my leather pants, and 
slightly 
more tucked inside the lining of my jacket. Always be prepared. He 
should 
know that, it's like the first rule of Watcher-dom.

I tilt my head to the side and regard him with irritation as he 
hesitates, clearly uncomfortable discussing my impending death. I know 
that I 
don't look like the me that he remembers. My hair is cut short in a bob 
that swings forward and frames my chin, still blonde but with bright 
red 
streaks scattered throughout. I am noticeably thinner, with no time 
devoted 
to training or even patrolling these days. And then there's my proudest 

alteration: a three-inch tattoo of a Celtic cross on the back of my 
neck. Keeps all kinds of unwanted attention at bay.

"Yes, well...I had rather hoped that we could..." Ah, there's the 
stutter. That's the Wesley I know and don't love.

"Hoped that we could what? Discuss this over tea?" I snort derisively 
at him 
as I close the distance between us in a single stride, causing him 
to take a step back. I halt at the edge of the light though, preferring 
to 
remain in the shadows, outside his antiquated notions of right and 
wrong. "Not 
to hurt your feelings but what exactly do you want? Hmm? The way I hear 
it 
you have only two sides to be on. You're either here to bring me back 
with 
you so that I can do what you all are too afraid to do or you're here 
to 
kill me to keep me as far from the rest of you as possible. So which is 
it Wes? 
Who dies, me or you?"

I don't know why I bother toying with him; it doesn't make a 
difference to me. I'm not going to fight for my life. I haven't been 
alive in a 
while. Oh, I'm still technically living. Heart still beating, lungs 
still 
sucking in the sorry excuse for air in this city, for all intents and 
practical 
purposes alive. Except for where it matters.

You know, it's funny but I never saw this coming. Oh, I knew that 
someone would come after me, that's pretty much a certainty given the 
facts 
we're dealing with. What I mean is that I never saw things ending up 
like 
this. But then again, I never planned on dying twice and being brought 
back both times either so that shows you what I know.

It's been almost a year since the day that my life took this 
unexpected spiral off into uncharted and wholly unanticipated 
territory. That's 
why I knew that it would be soon. That the past would catch up to us 
soon. 
They're running out of time. We're running out of time. And I think 
that I 
am the only one on this earth who is glad about it.

**

If I want to be honest with myself, and I rarely am these days, 
things were not anything close to resembling fine when I received the 
phone call 
from Giles that started me down the twisted chain of events that led to 
this point. It was the morning after what I thought at the time had to 
be 
my worst lapse in judgment ever. Turns out I was just getting started 
in discovering my hidden ability for making poor decisions.

When the first rays of dawn filtered through the dust to land on my 
sore skin, I came to in the basement of the abandoned house that Spike 
and I had all but destroyed in our frenzy, and managed with some 
difficulty to 

disentangle myself carefully from Spike's cold embrace. My head 
hurt, my body hurt, and I could feel the bruises starting to surface on 
my 
neck and back and a few other places I didn't want to think about.

I really didn't want to think about any of it. I gathered the remains 
of my 
clothing as fast as I could without waking the undead next to me and 
headed back home, ignoring the gaping numbness in my belly that my 
stupidity had only managed to keep at bay for a few hours. Now it was 
back with a 
vengeance and I had to stop several times and clutch at my stomach 
to keep from keeling over and retching on the street.

I made it home and into the shower thankfully unnoticed and all I 
wanted to do was get into my pajamas, crawl under the covers and slip 
into a 
coma. Anything to keep from facing the ugly reality that had somehow 
become my life.

I had just burrowed under the soft cotton of the sheets and flannel 
comforter hoping that when I closed my eyes it would all go away 
when Willow burst through the door babbling a mile a minute and 
clutching the 
cordless phone to her chest.

I groaned into my pillow and covered my head with the sheets, 
praying that she would take the hint and leave me alone but it didn't 
deter her, 
and despite my attempts at hearing nothing a few key words landed on my 
ears. Words that sounded suspiciously like 'Giles' and 'phone' and 
'prophecy'. Oh goody.

I unearthed myself from the cocoon of sheets and grabbed the phone 
from Willow's outstretched hand. She settled next to me on the bed 
watching anxiously as I struggled to focus on whatever it was that had 
Giles 
so riled up.

I managed to wrap my tired mind around enough to make out that he 
was going on about some big group of prophecies coming together 
starting 
yesterday. Something about a child of darkness and light who was 
supposed to 
usher in the apocalypse of all apocalypses blah blah blah. I managed to 
get 
him to pause long enough to take a breath so that I could ask where I 
fit 
into all of this. His answer wasn't exactly what I was hoping for. 
Apparently 
due to the nature of this child there were several groups of varying 
shades 
of evilness searching for him. I was supposedly prophesied to be 
involved in neutralizing the child before he could become a threat, 
reaching his 
full power on his first birthday. It didn't sound so sunny and Giles' 
answer to my query about if the child in question was human didn't 
exactly 
make me feel any happier about this particular duty.

"To be frank, we...the Council and myself, have been looking into it 
for some time and we don't know. For everyone's sake I hope not, but 
the 
prophecy...it's just not clear. What is clear is that this baby was 
born yesterday and that the sooner you take care of it the less chance 
there is that he will live to see his first birthday and fulfill the 
last 
line of the prophecy."

"Which is?" I asked as I gave up on the idea of sleep and climbed 
out of bed to head towards the closet.

"Utter annihilation of all life in this dimension."

"Oh, so the usual then?" I snorted and earned a stern reproach from 
Giles for my efforts.

"Buffy, this isn't a normal prophecy. Several ancient texts and 
scrolls which always seemed completely unrelated have all suddenly 
converged 
on this one fragment of time. It is unheard of. You must take this 
seriously."

"Fine. I'm serious. So where is this miracle child anyway? Slumming 
it on the Hellmouth or..."

"L.A."

"Oh." That certainly wasn't what I had been expecting. "Any idea how 
I find this kid? I don't think that I am going to be able to just waltz 
into the maternity ward and take out all the male babies." I didn't add 
the 
part where the very idea of slaying a human child wasn't exactly up 
there 
on my top ten list of things to do before I die again.

"Yes, there's a simple locating spell I've spoken to Willow about. 
She can cast it on one of the talismans from the Magic Shop so that the 
amulet will glow progressively brighter only in the presence of this 
child. And 
you needn't worry about finding him amongst other babies. He won't have 
been born in a hospital."

"Why not?" I asked as I slipped on a pair of jeans and dug through 
the bottom of my closet for my favorite pair of tennis shoes.

"Because his mother is a vampire."

"What!? Giles, how is that even possible?"

"We don't know and we don't know anything about her identity or what 
the father is. Just that the prophecy refers to life springing forth 
from the loins of the dead."

"Eww. Okay, enough with the disturbing imagery. Anything else I need 
to know?"

"That's all we have been able to confirm. I will phone with more 
info. Just be careful."

**

Despite the moral ambiguity of my role in this latest prophecy, it 
was a welcome diversion to have something Slayer-y to focus on: no 
thinking, no worrying about holding it all together for everyone else, 
just me 
and the baddie. Plus there was the added perk that it would get me out 
of 
Sunnydale for a while and away from the awkward questions and other 
unpleasant 
morning after-ishness I didn't want to face. So I was almost happy as I 
headed towards L.A., humming obliviously to the latest whoever it was 
that 
Dawn was so into on the radio and generally trying to not to focus on 
the 
mess that my life after the afterlife had become.

I wasn't entirely sure what I was facing. Giles hadn't had all the 
details, just enough for me to be a danger to myself and others as 
always. I 
managed to quiet whatever worries I had about the nature of this child 
with 
the misguided notion that he couldn't be all human if he was so evil. I 
know there's not a shred of credible logic in that line of thinking but 
see what you come up with when you're faced with a similar task and 
then 
we'll talk.

The drive didn't take nearly long enough and Giles hadn't been able 
to give me a place to begin my search. So I dug the thin gold talisman, 
which was shaped like three of those Olympic rings all linked together, 
out of 
my pocket to see if it would suddenly spring to life and show me where 
to go. Willow had blessed it while I hurriedly stuffed a duffel bag 
full of 
weapons and a change of clothes before heading out the door. I studied 
it 
briefly; slightly worried that it didn't seem any different now than it 
had 
when I placed it into Willow's outstretched hands that morning. I gave 
up 
on my inspection of the amulet when traffic started to slow and set it 
on 
the dashboard in front of me.

If it didn't work I was seriously screwed because even I knew that 
the odds of finding one child who nobody wanted found in a city this 
size was 
more than impossible. Not having any idea where else to start, I headed 
toward the less tourist friendly areas of town to begin my search. The 
places where no one ever sees or hears anything and would never think 
to ask any 
questions about anything out of the ordinary. Like say, a vampire 
having a baby.

It was still early and night being a good eight hours away the 
streets were all but deserted. I circled several of the more seedy 
neighborhoods 
a few times and still got a big zero out of the baby locating system. I 
tried to think of what I would do if I had a child that lots of baddies 
were 
after and needed to hide somewhere we wouldn't be found and soon 
realized 
that the last place I would be is in the very area where evil thrives. 
Score 
one for the evil baby. Score zero for Buffy.

I headed back to the freeway and decided to search the middle class 
areas and surrounding suburbs instead. More humans, less demons per 
square 
mile. Lots of families with babies. This prophecy sucks.

**

Three hours, and one tank of gas later I was exhausted from having 
not slept for almost 24 hours, not to mention starving and seriously 
irritable.

I pulled into a small convenience store to grab some cheetoes and a 
coke when the amulet suddenly started to glow. It was so faint at first 
that I wasn't sure if I was really seeing it glow or if I was so tired 
that 
I was hallucinating. I put the Jeep into park and grabbed my bag of 
weapons as I set out on foot, holding the amulet out in front of me 
like a metal 
detector.

It seemed to get brighter as I headed towards an apartment complex 
across the street. I was in a decent part of town, well lit, well 
maintained. Not really what you look for in a hotbed of demonic 
activity.

When I reached the main door of the complex the amulet started to 
hum and I have to say it made me jump. No one warned me about the sound 
effects, but I guess it was a sign that I was in the right location. I 
circled the 
first floor with no noticeable change in the glowing or the humming. 
When 
I hit the second floor, I had to cover the talisman with my hands. It 
was 
so bright that it would definitely gather a crowd of curious onlookers. 
Must be getting close.

I passed three apartments before the thing actually started to shake 
and I stuffed it into my pocket to keep it from leaping out of my hand. 
I 
stood still in front of the seemingly normal apartment. Same light blue 
door as all the others. Same gold letters. Same...baby crying at the 
top of 
its lungs and people shouting at each other. Must be in the right 
place.

I took in a solid breath to steady myself and tried to figure out 
just exactly how I was going to invite myself into some stranger's 
apartment and ask them to hand over their child because he happens to 
be the spawn 
of Satan.

Seriously lacking in the feasible plans department, I just stood 
there. The adult voices got louder, along with the baby's cries, as 
they neared 
the front of the apartment. I remained where I was and listened, hoping 
to pick up on something that I could use to my advantage.

The woman's voice was the loudest and as I listened I couldn't shake 
the feeling that I knew her from somewhere. Definitely not a good sign.

"Well what do you expect me to do about it? I don't know the first 
thing about babies and I am not its mother so don't expect me to act 
like 
one!!"

"Cordy, please. I don't know what to do..."

Cordy?? Cordelia? And the man's voice sounded a tad too much 
like...no, don't go there. I had to focus to tamp down on the flood of 
emotion 
that voice stirred up in my belly. It couldn't be...could it? But if it 
*is* them that means that they know about the prophecy as well and if 
they 
already have the baby...

I breathed in a much needed sigh of relief. I wouldn't have to do 
this alone. We could take care of the evil spawn together.

I put my hand on the door and turned the knob, fearing that they 
wouldn't hear my knock over the noise of the screaming baby and 
shouting 
Cordelia. The door wasn't locked, a dangerous oversight, but as I 
entered the 
foyer and turned to shut the door it was yanked from my hands and 
slammed 
solidly by some invisible force.

Okay, I so was not expecting that. I just stood there staring at the 
door for a good fifteen seconds while the sudden noise had drawn the 
attention of Angel and Cordelia but did nothing to quiet the baby.

"Buffy?"

Angel's quiet voice hit me like a shock wave. Washing over me with 
that familiar comforting warmth. It made me sick to my stomach and I 
stayed where I was, not wanting to face him as the memories of my 
illicit early 
morning activities with his childe came flooding back to my senses 
making my 
stomach knot and heave. Most of all I didn't want to look him in the 
eye. I 
didn't want to see the look on his face when he saw what I had become. 
Because he could always see me. No matter how hard I tried to hide the 
truth 
from him it was always reflected in his eyes. I tried in vain to 
swallow the 
lump of fear that had lodged itself in my throat as Cordelia spoke.

"Dennis, I told you to lock the door."

I had no idea who Dennis was but had to vacate my hiding place by 
the door as Cordelia brushed past me and hurriedly slid the deadbolt 
into 
place.

I made my way into the living room and focused my attention on the 
furnishings which practically screamed that we were in Cordelia's 
place, pointedly avoiding meeting Angel's gaze, which I could feel 
burning 
into the skin on the back of my neck.

Cordelia rejoined us and flopped down on the couch.

"So to what do we owe the honor of your visit Buff?" She bit out and 
I turned my eyes to her, confused at her hostility.

"I uh..." I didn't get any farther as the baby turned the crying up 
another notch from wailing to shrieking.

Angel helplessly tried to comfort the infant and paced around the 
room frantically as I managed to will my legs to work and settled into 
a 
chair across from Cordy, wanting to find out how much they knew and 
more 
importantly if they had a plan.

"See if he's hungry again," Cordy spat out and I could tell from the 
tension that hung heavy in the room that they were both past the point 
of 
being frazzled and were working on sheer exhaustion.

Angel disappeared into the kitchen and the crying stopped for about 
4.2 seconds before it started up again. He re-emerged just behind the 
first wave of noise.

"It didn't help," he muttered and closed his eyes in frustration.

He continued to pace and Cordelia threw her hands up in defeat and 
covered her face with a throw pillow from the couch.

"I swear Angel I cannot take much more of this! You would think that 
your kid would have inherited at least a shred of your broodiness, but 
no 
he has to take after his mother. I never thought I'd say this but I 
really 
wish Darla hadn't staked herself because she deserves to be here to 
endure this!"

Her words sliced through me as they landed on my ears. Tiny razors 
of pain and shock that bit into my skin and burned my eyes as the 
reality of 
what I'd really walked into settled around me. I opened my mouth to say 
something but no words came out and my throat seemed to have closed in 
on 
itself. I struggled to take in some air and watched with glassy eyes as 
the 
reality of what she'd just let slip surfaced on Cordelia's face and she 
turned 
apologetically towards Angel.

I didn't have time to worry over the impossibility that it was 
actually *DARLA* that was the mother of Angel's child. The logistics of 
it 
didn't matter because in my heart I knew it was the truth. I knew 
because 
of the chill that settled over my chest and spread through my veins 
with 
ruthless certainty, making me want to dig down into my arms with my 
nails 
just to stop it. Just to make it all stop.

Me, Spike, Angel, Darla, Angel's baby, this prophecy...I wanted it 
all to stop. To not be anymore. I wanted to go back and fix whatever it 
was 
that I did, whomever it was that I pissed off in a past life, that 
caused 
me to have be there in that moment.

I cannot tell you what Angel was thinking in the aftermath of Cordy's 
little 
slip because I couldn't bring myself to face him. I couldn't get past 
the 
sudden realization that I had been sent there to kill his child. 
Angel's child. Angel has a child. It didn't matter how many times I 
repeated 
it in my mind it still wasn't sinking in.

"Buffy?"

No. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want him to say it because if 
I heard it from him...if his voice uttered those words they could never 
be 
taken back.

"No." My voice caught in the back of my throat and the word came out 
sounding more fragile than I had intended.

I willed myself to stand on legs that were not cooperating and faced 
the love of my life as he clutched the child I was sent to kill to his 
chest. There were so many emotions warring in his dark eyes that I had 
to 
look away, silencing his attempt to speak with a sharp wave of my hand.

It took me a second to find some measure of control over my own 
emotions before I could speak. I felt the tears beginning to surface in 
the 
corners of my eyes as I met Angel's concerned stare but held them back. 
I 
had to get this out and if I didn't do it that instant I never would.

"Please don't talk. Just listen." I hoped that my voice sounded much 
calmer than the shaky broken words that echoed in my head but somehow I 
doubted it. "I have to tell you why I'm here."

I met his eyes and he nodded his consent for me to continue before I 
looked away and began to pace slowly, deliberately as far away as 
possible 
from Angel and the still crying, but less frantic, baby.

"I had my day pretty much planned out when I crawled into bed just 
after dawn this morning." I shoved down the memories of Spike my words 
dredged up and swallowed hard before continuing. Trying unsuccessfully 
to 
ignore the growing dread in the pit of my belly that was making it 
increasingly 
hard for me to remain standing. "But then I received this insane phone 
call from Giles..."

I went on from there, my brain shifting into autopilot as my mouth 
babbled onward, brushing past the details Giles had told me and my 
fruitless 
search attempts that afternoon in the city. When I came to the part 
about 
the amulet glowing as I reached Cordy's apartment complex, I dug my 
hand 
into my pocket and pulled it out for their inspection. I stood there in 
front of them, clasping it desperately in my trembling hands as if its 
very 
existence was irrefutable proof that what I was rambling manically on 
and on 
about was actually true and I wasn't rapidly going insane as I feared 
in my 
head.

It was uncomfortably silent, even the child had quieted as if he 
understood the gravity of what I was saying, and I just stood there 
clutching 
in my hands the blindingly bright talisman that was vibrating so 
furiously 
it was making my arms shake, watching as warring emotions played out in 
the 
brown depths of Angel's eyes. I saw him weigh his options in light of 
what 
I'd just revealed. I even thought I saw a trace of his love for me 
flicker by but it was all gone, all irrelevant and in the past the 
moment that 
his eyes left mine and met those of his child.

His human child.

Because when he raised his gaze from the baby's and returned his 
attention to me, his decision had been made. I saw it etched in stone 
across 
the planes of his face. As that reality settled around me, every last 
shred of hope I had been clinging to shattered in the wake of the 
realization 
that Angel would die before he let me near his child. I would have to 
kill him. Again. He knew it. I knew it. He accepted it. There was no 
doubt and 
no apology in his eyes. He would not let me take his child, 
consequences be 
damned, and I can't say that I expected any differently from him.

In that fraction of a second when his decision became clear I made 
mine too. I met his eyes one last time and nodded goodbye, tears biting 
at the 
backs of my eyelids when I closed them to keep him from seeing me cry. 
Then before he could say anything, and before I could change my mind, I 
turned 
and ran as fast as my trembling legs could carry me letting the amulet 
slip 
from my fingers and shatter as it hit the floor.

**

I fled the apartment, ran out of the building and into my car, ignoring 
the 
battle that was waging inside me threatening to tear me in two. The 
Slayer within me was rebelling with a vicious fury screaming that it 
wasn't 
over. That I hadn't done my duty. That I needed to turn around and 
kill. 
But that small part of me that I still recognized, that was still Buffy 
despite all the loss of self that I had been battling with since I 
clawed my way 
out of my grave, forced me to keep going, to run and never look back.

I fumbled for my keys managing to start the engine after the second 
try and sped away from L.A. as fast as I could get the Jeep to go. I 
bit 
back the sting of tears that burned in my chest and ignored the pain 
that 
settled in between my ribs with a vengeance causing me to choke because 
I 
didn't want to acknowledge the truth in my actions. I didn't want to 
have to 
admit to myself that this was the end. That the new emptiness swirling 
inside 
my chest was so much worse than what I had been living with because now 
even the one thing that I always had, the small hope that always 
survived 
somewhere hidden deep down in my very cells, was gone. Defeated in 
that instant that Angel's eyes met mine and the loss of it was too 
painful, too raw that I had to will myself not to dwell on it for fear 
that I 
would collapse behind the wheel.

Instead I forced myself to focus on the dull gray of the road that 
stretched endlessly out ahead of me and tried not to dwell on the fact 
that my 
life as I knew it was never going to be the same. Tried to pretend that 
the 
entire world hadn't just fallen off its axis and was spinning wildly 
off 
into space along with the tattered remains of my heart. Angel and I had 
just 
condemned the entire world to a painful and horrific death and I 
couldn't seem 
to care. It didn't matter to me.

I should have known better. As soon as I heard his voice I should 
have run, because the moment I walked into Cordy's apartment I felt it. 
A 
nagging tingle that surged through my joints like battery acid, telling 
me 
that something was about to change forever. Something big. But I 
couldn't 
think about it then, there was too much to do, too much death spreading 
through my veins for me to see past it at that point. And later as I 
raced away 
from L.A. towards an uncertain future, I didn't care to fight the pull 
of 
the darkness any longer. I just ran like mad despite the fact that I 
was 
running from nothing more than the ghost of a past I couldn't remember 
and I 
didn't stop until I hit Sunnydale and pulled the Jeep into the darkened 
driveway of a house that suddenly no longer felt like home.

I shut the engine off and pulled my weary body out of the car, 
knowing that if I let myself sit still even for one moment that I would 
be 
crushed underneath the weight of the sorrow hovering over me, 
threatening to 
drown me with each passing second. As long as I kept moving I wouldn't 
have time to think about it. It wouldn't have time to sink in, to be 
real. 
This couldn't be real.


I slammed the door, leaving my bag of weapons in the car, intent on 
being only a few minutes at the most. Just long enough to grab the few 
things I would need. I hadn't anticipated the interruption waiting for 
me on 
the front steps of the porch, bleached blonde hair gleaming in the 
moonlight, cigarette dangling precariously from the corner of his mouth 
as I 
approached.

He was the last person on earth I was interested in dealing with at 
the moment so I didn't even pause to glare down at him as I stepped 
past 
his outstretched legs and headed to the front door without a word. I 
had 
the door open and was halfway up the stairs before I heard him enter 
the 
house behind me. I continued to my room and dug a large travel bag out 
of 
the clutter that breeds underneath my bed and began to mentally check 
off items on the running list in my head.

I had been working a good five minutes before it occurred to me that 
the house was unusually quiet. I hadn't stopped long enough to give any 
thought to what my friends and sister would think about my current 
course of 
action but as soon as it registered that I was alone in a dark house I 
paused. Spike materialized from somewhere in the shadows of the hall to 
lean 
against my doorframe and regard me curiously with an arched eyebrow.

"Where is everyone?" I cringed at the way my voice cracked from 
disuse and continued to shove things into the bag as Spike answered me.

"Willow, the RatGirl and the Lil' Bit went to see that wizard flick. 
You know, that one about the Harry Potter bloke and his magical 
friends?" He paused, waiting for me to respond and when I didn't slow 
in the 
quest to find my favorite patrolling pants within the mounds of 
clothing in 
the closet, he continued undeterred. "So how was the little trip to 
L.A.? Did you say hello to Peaches for me?"

That stopped me cold. If I hadn't known him better than that I would 
have thought that he was only trying to get under my skin about our 
naked 
trip into insanity land that morning but the tone of his voice told me 
otherwise. He knew something more than he was supposed to.

I stepped out of the closet to stare at him expectantly. I know that 
I looked like a crazy person but there must have been something in my 
eyes that got through to him because instead of being cruel and toying 
with me, Spike stepped into my room and gently took the bag from my 
hands 
before grabbing my arm and leading me to the bed. I allowed him to sit 
me 
down without protest as the gravity of all that had occurred in the 
past 
24 hours between he and I, and with Angel, suddenly hit home and I 
found that 
I no longer possessed the strength to stand.

Spike dropped the half loaded bag at my feet and stood in front of 
me, studying me for a moment before he spoke.

"So, I guess you know about Angel's little problem, eh?"

I raised my hand to silence him. I didn't want to hear that he'd known 
about 
Darla and the baby. It didn't matter now anyway. Nothing mattered now.

Surprisingly, Spike took the hint and remained silent, watching me 
carefully for any clue as to what I was going to do next. But I didn't 
do 
anything. I just sat there shaking silently as my body tried 
desperately to cry 
tears that my stubborn eyes wouldn't let surface. I sat there until the 
ache that throbbed beneath my chest died down into the same cold empty 
numbness that had resided there ever since my death. Numb was good. 
Numb was 
familiar.

I don't know how long I sat there: not moving, not speaking. But 
when I finally remembered myself and stood, I was surprised to find 
that 
Spike had not moved from where he'd stopped to watch me. I didn't say 
anything. I just walked out of my room to the bathroom and returned a 
few moments 
later with all that I needed. I stuffed everything into the bag and 
closed it. 
Taking one last glance around to make sure there wasn't anything I 
missed, 
I turned and headed down the stairs with Spike following right behind.

I reached for the front door knob and pulled to open it but found it 
forced shut in the next instant by Spike's hand and turned to face him 
with 
blank eyes. Not angry, not sad, not anything but ready to leave.

"And just where do you think you're running off to?" I might not 
have been anything but he was visibly pissed.

"Anywhere will do." I answered flatly and tried to open the door 
again but found the way blocked. "Spike, get out of my way. I don't 
care what 
you have to say, I'm sure I've heard it all before. Now you can either 
move 
or I'll move you."

I tried to brush past him but he grabbed my wrists so tightly that 
the bones rubbed against each other and pinned my body to his chest, 
glaring 
down at me menacingly. I could feel his anger at me rolling off him in 
waves 
of fury, betraying the cool blue of his eyes. He dug his nails into the 
tender flesh on the undersides of my wrists and I didn't even flinch. I 
knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to piss me off, make me 
hit him, 
make me react but I couldn't do that. I'd already tried losing myself 
in 
anger and all it got me was tangled up in him on the dirty floor of an 
abandoned basement. No, I didn't want to discuss this. I didn't want to 
feel 
this. I just wanted to go. I just wanted to run.

I know it freaked him out that I didn't react to him nearly breaking 
my wrists and he pushed me away from him in frustration, still blocking 
the front door. He cocked his head to the side trying to piece together 
my mood and all I did in response was stare at the piece of trim on the 
hall 
rug that was starting to unravel. Just like me.

"Let me go." I had meant to sound more forceful but it came out flat 
to my ears.

Spike took a small hesitant step toward me, like he was afraid that 
I'd bolt if he made any sudden moves in my direction.

"No. Not like this. You won't last an hour out there like this. Have 
you even slept today Buffy?"

The concern in his tone made my stomach lurch and I bit back the 
anger that was welling in the back of my throat, determined not to give 
into 
him and get mad. I shook my head no and inched closer to the door. He 
intercepted me and pressed his fingers cruelly into my shoulder to keep 
me from 
leaving while his other hand wrenched the keys to the Jeep out of my 
pocket 
and grabbed the bag from my shoulder. Then he let me go and pushed me 
towards the door.

I halted once I found my feet to keep from falling at the sudden 
momentum his shove had given me and turned back to regard him in 
confusion. 
He slung my bag over his shoulder and reached around me to open the 
door but 
I still stood there watching him uncertainly. Spike let out an 
exasperated 
sigh and mumbled something I couldn't hear under his breath before 
stopping 
to face me in the doorway.

"Look, if you've any hope of getting some distance between yourself 
and whatever it is that you're running from you're going to need some 
help. And before you open that pretty little mouth of yours in protest 
take a 
minute to think about it. You're running on pure emotion and adrenaline 
right now but soon that exhaustion and lack of sleep is going to catch 
up to 
you and when it does you're going to crash, and I for one would prefer 
that 
running off the road wasn't a certainty in your future. Now you can 
stand 
here gaping at me all night if you like but the dark is fading fast and 
if you dally too long Willow and the Nibblet will be back and you'll 
have 
to explain all this to them too."

With that he turned and brushed past me to head towards the Jeep. I 
watched him with empty eyes as he loaded my bag into the back and 
closed the 
hatch. He then headed to the driver's side and got in. When he turned 
the 
key in the ignition I sighed and closed the door behind me. Truth was, 
at 
this point, it didn't matter to me if he came along or not.

I ignored the myriad of warning bells going off in my head as I 
climbed into the passenger seat next to a vampire who was more of a 
threat to me 
now than he ever was before my death. I shut the door and pushed down 
all the 
logical reasons why what I was doing was akin to insanity and fastened 
my 
seatbelt. It was too late now to worry about anything anymore. Worrying 
couldn't change the past 24 hours and it certainly wouldn't shape what 
lie 
ahead so, I buried those feelings deep inside with all things better 
left 
alone and leaned my face against the smooth glass of the window, the 
chill 
stinging my cheek and causing me to shiver.

Spike shifted the car into gear and backed it out of the driveway, 
pausing as we hit the street. He looked over at me expectantly though I 
did 
not turn to acknowledge him.

"Where to, Slayer?"

"North. Just head north."

It was all I said and he didn't push me for more, just turned the 
car to head north and drove on in silence. We stayed that way for 
several 
hours. Spike occasionally rolling down the window to smoke, and casting 
a 
glance or two in my direction as he fumbled with and cursed at the 
radio when 
we hit a town with poor reception.

I know he expected me to sleep but I didn't. I couldn't even close 
my eyes for fear of what lay in wait for me behind them. I just stayed 
curled up into a ball in the front seat, Spike's duster draped over me, 
my 
head resting against the window and my eyes staring off into the same 
nothingness that I could feel swirling incessantly underneath my skin.

When the edges of the sky were tinged with the growing pink of the 
approaching dawn, Spike exited the freeway and pulled into the drive 
of a decidedly shabby Interstate Motel. He shifted the Jeep into park 
and 
reached over to fish a wallet, probably stolen, out of the pocket of 
his 
duster.

"I'll be right back." He paused to watch me for some movement or 
sign of life which I didn't give him and he quickly opened the door to 
disappear into the dimly lit lobby of this all night motel in the 
middle of I 
had no idea where.

I just couldn't seem to muster the desire to care about anything 
that was happening. I knew that it was out there, all of it, just 
hovering on 
the edge of my consciousness waiting to be let in, waiting to take root 
and tear me apart from the inside out. But as long as I didn't let 
myself 
think about it, as long as I remained a spectator to my own life, I was 
okay.

The sound of the door opening made me jump and I turned to find 
Spike regarding me seriously, expecting me to say something, which I 
didn't. He sighed and slid back behind the wheel long enough to direct 
us into 
the parking space at the end of the aisle.

I crawled out of the front seat and struggled to stand on legs that 
were solidly asleep, wincing as the blood that had pooled in my 
motionless limbs during the ride was suddenly and painfully jolted into 
motion. I 
followed Spike through the peeling red painted door of room number 103.

Spike tossed my bag onto the floor and turned to head back out to 
the car as I settled myself into the lone chair in the room tucked 
safely into 
a dim corner. I curled my legs underneath me, wrapping my body back 
under 
the worn leather of Spike's duster like some kind of warped and twisted 
security blanket, watching with strange detachment as he re-entered the 
room 
clutching two new packs of cigarettes and tossing the keys onto the 
dresser before shutting and bolting the door.

This was it. Here we were. Stuck together in this room for the next 
twelve hours waiting for the sun to go down while pointedly avoiding 
all 
form of communication that might bring up the one person neither of us 
wanted to talk about. It isn't as easy as it might seem. The notion of 
uncomfortable silence doesn't even begin to cover it.

Especially when you add to an already complicated and intertwined 
personal history the fact that just a little less than 24 hours prior 
to this 
we were beating the living (and unliving) shit out of each other before 
tearing each other's clothes off and rolling around like animals in the 
ancient 
dust that rose from the jagged cracks of that hard concrete floor. Also 
add 
the fact that I literally wanted to kill him last night *before* I tore 
all 
his clothes off and tried to lose my self in my (his) pain, and the 
fact 
that he thinks he's in love with me *and* the fact that we're both 
still in 
love with *HIM* and you might get a sliver of an idea of how heavy the 
silence in that room hung.

Spike, never one for beating around the bush, casually dropped his 
cigarettes onto the nightstand and began to strip off his clothes, 
starting with his black t-shirt. He must have a never ending supply of 
them 
considering the one he was wearing last night ended up in shreds. I 
quickly killed that train of thought before it could gain momentum and 
turned my attention to the rest of the room as Spike spoke.

"So Slayer, what side of the bed do you want?"

As his words registered I turned my eyes to the bed that occupied 
the center of the room. The bed. As in one bed only. The only bed. I 
have no 
idea why I didn't notice it before but there it sat in all its by the 
hour 
musty motel glory, taunting me with the sick sad irony of my life.

Spike halted at the foot of it to look down at me expectantly as I 
quickly decided that it didn't matter where he slept I was not getting 
into 
that bed with him, even if I had to stay up all day in this creaky and 
wholly 
uncomfortable instrument of torture that was trying to pass as a chair.

"Doesn't matter." I managed to force past my dry lips, forgetting 
that it had been a good three hours since I'd last said anything at 
all.

Spike simply shrugged and continued to strip.

"Ahem." I raised my eyebrow at him as he went to remove his pants, 
knowing as I now did, that he wasn't one for underwear of any kind.

He actually laughed in my direction before ignoring me and removing 
every last article of his clothing deliberately. He then turned to hang 
the bedspread over the worn and faded drapes to ensure that no sunlight 
would find its way inside while he slept, the cover plunging the room 
into 
complete darkness.

I stayed where I was, listening as he made his way back to the bed 
and flopped down on top of it. The ancient springs groaning and 
shifting 
as they adjusted to his weight. I heard plastic rustling then a click 
before 
the room was lit with a flick of his Zippo then shifted back to the 
darkness, broken only by the tiny orange glow from the tip of his 
Marlboro.

It was silent for a while and I think I must have dozed off because 
the next thing I remember was feeling my feet moving of their own 
volition 
and I opened my eyes to find the room flooded with light from the twin 
lamps on either side of the bed. I squinted in defense of the sudden 
shift 
into brightness and my attention turned from the lamps to the vampire 
kneeling naked in front of me, carefully unlacing my tennis shoes and 
slipping them off my feet before turning his attention to my socks.

"What are you doing?" I rasped out and yanked my feet from his hands. 
He set 
his jaw in irritation and glanced up at me, still kneeling on the 
tacky rust colored shag carpeting.

"You need to get some rest and you're not going to find it sitting 
in that chair all day."

He finished and returned his attention to my feet but I kicked out 
at him, forcing him to back away as I stood up and threw his duster at 
his 
face. He caught it and smirked knowingly at me. Proud at his never-
ending 
ability to get underneath my skin no doubt.

"Leave me alone Spike." I gritted out under my breath through 
clenched teeth.

"For what, pet? So that you can retreat back within yourself and 
slowly go insane. I don't think so. If you hate me so much then show 
me. 
Whatever it is that's eating you alive on the inside right now, take it 
out on 
me. You have to do something or it will swallow you whole Buffy. And 
trust 
me when I say that it's not as welcome an escape as it looks to you 
right 
now."

There was no way I was going to let him drag me into a fight. I 
didn't buy his concern for one moment. He was probably just looking to 
get me 
all riled up again so that he could get laid and I would be damned if 
I'd give 
him the satisfaction of even making me angry, much less anything more.

I didn't want to dignify his answer with a reply so instead I 
clamped my mouth shut and crossed my arms in front of me defiantly. 
Daring him 
to try and get me into that bed with him.

He simply shrugged and closed the distance between us in a single 
fluid motion.

"Doesn't matter to me if we do this the hard way or not, luv. Either 
way you're going to get some sleep. In that bed. Today."

He waited like fifteen seconds for me to respond and when I didn't, 
frustration flashed briefly across the blue of his eyes as he 
reached out and grabbed me by my belt jerking my body flush with his. 
Before I 
could register what was happening he had it undone and off of my body, 
his 
hands settling on the waist of my jeans as he watched for me to attempt 
to 
stop him.

And part of me really wanted to.

Part of me wanted to fight him. Wanted to lash out and scream and 
claw at his perfect cheek bones and mar the smooth, clean lines of his 
face 
but most of me knew better than to give him the satisfaction of 
provoking me. 
So instead I remained perfectly still, not even flinching as his 
fingers deftly 
undid the button and zipper on my jeans, sliding them gently down my 
legs and detangling them from my feet. He removed my socks while he was 
down there, then slid his hands back up the sides of my body divesting 
me 
of my t-shirt, while I concentrated on fighting back the urge to shiver 
as 
his palms caressed my bare flesh. As my shirt hit the floor, it left me 
standing in front of him only in my bra and panties and still I refused 
to 
give in.

He stood there and studied my face for a minute until I looked away 
and he caught me off guard when one arm suddenly wound around my 
shoulders, 
the other behind my knees as he lifted me off the ground and carried me 
to the bed. He dropped me unceremoniously onto the side by the window 
and 
shut off the lights before I felt the mattress depress underneath his 
weight 
as he settled in next to me. I heard him snort in triumph and I turned 
my 
back to him, yanking the stiff and scratchy sheets up to my chin and 
staring 
out into the thick darkness.

I sighed and tried to focus on not thinking about all the things 
that were screaming at me with each beat of my heart against my bruised 
and 
tight flesh. Whispering to me that I was weak, that I was a failure for 
running, that Spike was right: that I came back wrong.

I closed my eyes against the unforgiving dark and struggled with my 
thoughts. I thought of Angel and the look that settled on his face 
as I stood before him in Cordy's apartment that morning, the 
determination
in his eyes and the way it felt like he could see right through me. See 
the 
wreck that I had become. See how far I'd fallen. I could almost taste 
his 
disgust though I think it was more in my imagination, but it didn't 
matter. 
I thought of Giles and how disappointed he would be once he realized 
that I had deliberately failed. That I had turned my back on him and 
his 
teachings and run from my duty only to end up half naked in bed with a 
demon 
that he despises. I thought of my mother and how I was glad that she 
wasn't 
here to see what I had let my life become. That she couldn't see how I 
had 
failed her in my promise to keep Dawn safe. I died to keep her safe and 
it 
wasn't enough. It's never enough. There's not enough of me to go 
around.

I flinched when I registered the smooth, cool feel of Spike's hand 
on my arm and it took me a second to realize that I was crying. Shaking 
violently as tears slipped past my ever-weakening resolve. It was the 
sensation 
of Spike's skin on my own that was the last straw. The feel of him was 
too similar to Angel's touch, that touch that is forever ingrained into 
the fiber of my being, stitched into the lines of my skin. When Spike 
wrapped his arms around me it caused those memories to surface with a 
blinding fury and I couldn't take it so I lashed out at him as he tried 
to comfort 
me.

I screamed and beat at his face with my hands, rolling onto my back 
and pushing him away as I choked on my tears. Spike tried to restrain 
me 
and my right fist connected solidly with his jaw making his head snap 
back 
with a sickening crack. While he was momentarily stunned, I clawed my 
nails 
hard down the side of his face, his skin curling in slivers underneath 
my 
nails, his blood raining like drops of ice onto my face and making my 
fingers stick together. He hissed in response but otherwise remained 
silent. I 
rammed my palm into the gashes my nails had left, smashing his torn 
flesh into 
his cheekbone and he still did not hit me back.

I wanted him to fight back. I wanted to feel my face crack and throb 
and bleed. I wanted to feel anything but that gnawing cold in the 
hollow 
of my chest. But mostly I just wanted the anger to grow and expand and 
swallow me whole. Anger at myself, at my friends, at Giles, at Angel, 
even at 
Spike.

Spike who, thanks to his vamp senses, could see better than I could 
in the thick artificial night of the musty hotel room and used it catch 
me 
off guard and pin my hands above my head by my wrists. I was panting in 
anger and frustration struggling to get him off of me while choking 
back 
the heavy sobs of pain that stung the back of my throat making me 
cough. 
Spike's weight on my upper body made it hard for me to breathe and the 
extra 
effort it required to suck in a shallow pulse of air seemed to quell 
some 
of the fury that had threatened to split me in two. Spike never said a 
word 
nor made one move beyond restraining me once I stopped screaming. He 
remained draped across my upper body, pinning me to the mattress as I 
wailed 
and shook and sobbed like a maniac, suffocating as I gasped in the 
bitter mixture of my tears and his blood.

After what seemed like an eternity in the darkness I was able to calm 
down. 
Spike had stayed motionless, waiting me out. As my tears slowed to a 
steady trickle and my breathing began to hitch I felt him shift his 
body 
slightly. His uninjured cheek brushed lightly across my angry damp face 
as he 
released his hold on my wrists, trusting me to refrain from attacking 
him 
further. I still couldn't seem to stop crying and I felt him place his 
hands on 
either side of my trembling shoulders, his palms angering the bruises 
his 
fingers had raised earlier. I jumped when his lips brushed against my 
right 
cheekbone, warily anticipating his next move as I still could not 
see a thing in the pitch black.

When his tongue began to trace the path of my tears, catching them 
before they dropped off the edge of my chin, I smashed my eyes shut to 
stem 
their flow even though the salt burned my eyelids and made me shiver. I 
held my breath when his mouth moved down the line of my jaw to trace 
the 
column of my neck. The feel of his flesh on mine burned and stung. It 
was as 
if my skin was turned inside out and lay raw and exposed to the heavy 
air 
and his slight touch. I knotted my fingers into the bedding as his 
hands 
followed his open mouth in its path with such concern and tenderness 
that I 
wanted to be split in half and pulled to pieces and ground to dust to 
be blown 
away into bits of nothingness right then and there because I couldn't 
bear it.

I couldn't take him being gentle to me. I couldn't take his hands 
softly caressing the very places that bruises still remained from his 
touch 
the night before. It was too much. I didn't want him to make love to me 
like he was doing. I wanted to stay angry. I wanted to be mad. I wanted 
to 
hit and claw and bite at him until he hurt like I was hurting, until he 
was 
drowning in the despair that clouded my brain and dug into my chest. I 
wanted 
him to feel lost and scared and I wanted him to mourn the death of the 
last 
sliver of hope within him that still believed things would always turn 
out 
alright in the end. I wanted him to rage at me for the cruel twists of 
fate 
that tore my heart to shreds the instant I realized that Angel was now 
lost to me forever.

Angel and his human child.

Angel and his child.

Angel's childe whose fingers were lightly skimming over my rib cage 
as I sobbed, teasing my skin into goose bumps even as my will to go on 
withered and died within my broken body.

I hated Spike for trying to take care of me. I hated him for being 
the only one who knew what I was really going through. I hated him for 
always 
being there, that constant thorn in my side. And most of all I hated 
myself for what he made me feel as his mouth and hands moved over my 
heated 
flesh and slid the last piece of my clothing down my legs leaving just 
the 
chill of his body pressed against my own. I bit down on my lip to keep 
from 
sobbing out loud and drew blood. Blood that ran thick and warm down my 
chin, 
mixing with his blood and my tears as they met his tongue when he moved 
to 
kiss me again and I hated myself for kissing him back.

I felt so completely empty, so drained, that I was desperate to feel 
something, anything just to know that I was real. That I wasn't just 
a memory. That I used to exist once. Spike paused with his mouth 
pressed to the side of my neck, sucking achingly slow on the pulse that 
throbbed just beneath the thin barrier of my flesh, waiting for my 
decision and I 
hated him for making me choose. I hated that it didn't matter to him 
that 
I'd never love him, that he could make love to me a thousand times and 
I'd never see it as anything more than a mistake.

But none of it, the love, the loss, the pain, the despair, none of 
it was enough to make me stop him. It should have been enough. There 
were a 
million reasons on the tip of my tongue why it was not right that my 
fingers 
were tracing slowly down the taut lines of his back. Why I should not 
have wrapped my legs around his hips and bared my neck to his mouth, 
giving him permission to take my body and wanting it when he did just 
that.

But truth be told, in that moment when I laid there beneath him 
crying silently as his body entered mine, I wanted him there. I was so 
broken and so tired of fighting that somewhere in my frantic mind I 
thought 
that maybe if I let him in deep enough that he would invade my very 
cells and 
erase the person that I used to be. That by accepting him into my body 
I could 
trade my emptiness for his. I wanted him to fill me and displace the 
memories that pulled at the bloodied and bruised remains of my heart. I 
wanted him 
to hurt me and split me in two and tear me apart so that I wouldn't 
have to 
face what I couldn't even bear to look at in the mirror anymore. I 
wanted 
him to make me his, to change me into someone else, no longer Buffy but 
just some girl. Some thing, not a person, just a thing. Insubstantial, 
here 
one moment and gone the next, like dust. Like dirt from my grave.

I tried to ignore the reaction his body was creating within mine, 
tried to hold onto the anger, to the rage but it fled as the pressure 
grew in 
the pit of my belly and spiraled outward pushing me over that edge into 
oblivion and I cried even harder when Spike stilled and kissed my 
closed eyelids. 
He pressed my body into his as he whispered softly that he loved me and 
then let me go to rest beside me in the bed. I rolled away from him and 
choked on my tears as I whispered my answer back:

"I hate you."

He didn't say anything, he just wrapped his arms around me from behind 
and I 
passed out from sheer exhaustion only to be woken up some time later 
to find Spike fully dressed and standing over the bed telling me that 
we 
were leaving in an hour so I'd better get up and get ready.

We never spoke of that insane 24-hour span where our fists and 
mouths and bodies collided first in violence then in tenderness. We 
just went 
about each day like the next, quickly growing accustomed to the routine 
and the security it provided. We never stayed in one place for too 
long, 
just a month here or a week there depending on the city and what it had 
to 
offer. I never cried after that day and Spike was never that gentle 
with me 
again. It was a relief to both of us I could tell.

And that's how it is between us even now. He loves me and I hate him 
and we go through each day together alternately beating the shit out of 
and 
then clinging to each other because we're all that we have left in a 
world that is quickly spinning towards its fiery end as the one year 
anniversary of the birth of a baby that we pretend does not exist 
steadily approaches. 
We're two outcasts belonging to nowhere, suspended in this strange 
limbo 
land, like the discarded remnants of hope long since faded.

Occasionally we'll get word that some demon, vampire, or other 
baddie is after me because of my role in the prophecy, wanting to take 
me out 
to protect the child that I still have no intention of harming despite 
what it will cost the rest of the world. We always make quick work of 
any 
threat but in the aftermath one thing still remains hovering between us 
in the 
silence. That unspoken 'what if' that keeps us moving just as we start 
to get 
too comfortable in one place.

'What if next time it's Angel?'

So it's always when we start to get settled in, when we start to let 
our guard down even just a fraction of an inch that we move on. 
Sometimes picking a state at random based on the next license plate we 
see, 
other times choosing a city for a specific event. It's how we ended up 
here now. We traveled fifteen hundred miles from our last place in 
Connecticut 
to Texas because Austin is hosting a three-day non-stop punk festival 
that Spike just had to be here for, so here we are and here Wesley 
found 
us. Or me at least.

I'm not certain what exactly Wesley does and does not know about my 
life these days. If he even knows that I'm not running on my own. If he 
knows that Willow tracked us down about two months after I'd fled 
California and when I opened the door and saw her standing there, at 
first I was 
relieved.

I was glad because I thought it was the end of this way of life for 
me. I didn't see the changes in her. The way her body moved unnaturally 
like she wasn't the one in control of it any longer. The way her voice 
held 
no hint of the warm bubbly girl she once was. I couldn't see past the 
face 
of one of my best friends and it almost cost me my life. Spike saw the 
truth, 
and it was Spike that killed her. I can still hear the sound her neck 
made 
as it twisted and hung at an unnatural angle in Spike's grasp. That's 
when 
I knew she was no longer human. That whatever magicks she had tapped 
into 
had taken her soul in payment. I know it's the truth because we tested 
Spike's 
chip right after that and it still functioned. I stood in the shadows 
and 
watched as he stalked his prey and moved in for the kill. The chip went 
off, 
rendering him useless and I had to pick him up off the pavement and 
help him into the car. We fled that city the same night, leaving behind 
one 
of the last ties to my former life crumbled and lost within the still 
and 
lifeless body of my former friend.

And now I find myself standing across from another ghost from my 
past, faced with the same dilemma: kill or be killed.

Now most people, when they find themselves in such a situation, 
would stop and wonder what exactly they did to bring their life 
spiraling 
downwards to such a low point. But me, I know exactly why I'm standing 
here face 
to face with one of my ex-Watchers mentally running over at least seven 
different ways I can take him down before he can tell anyone else where 
I am.

I'm here because I couldn't do it again. It didn't matter the cost 
to the world. It didn't matter that it would mean my death as well. I 
couldn't kill *Him* again. I know it's selfish and it's wrong but it's 
the truth. 
I loved Angel enough to kill him once to save the world, and sometimes 
when 
I let myself think about him, I wonder if he loves me enough to kill me 
in 
return. I try not to dwell on it and push the thoughts away as soon as 
they 
surface because it's too close to the truth of our current situation.

I did ask Spike to kill me once. Just once. He wouldn't do it. He's 
selfish 
that way. He wants to keep me around no matter what it costs either of 
us. 
It wasn't a shock to find out that he doesn't love me enough to kill 
me; I 
don't care about him enough to let it bother me. But it bothered him 
that 
I'd ask. I still remember that day, it's one of the few things that I 
can 
still recall without flinching. One of the few memories that doesn't 
bother 
me when it surfaces from time to time in my dreams.

It was about three months after we'd left Sunnydale. One month after 
Willow 
had found us. We had settled into some small nameless town in Oregon 
for the 
time being. That day was unusually warm for winter and we lay together 
in 
bed with just the sheet on top of us. Spike's head rested casually 
against 
my chest while his fingers scraped lightly across my ribs, tracing each 
one 
in then following its path out to find the next.

"You've lost too much weight, ducks. You need to eat."

He rolled away from me and grabbed a cigarette off the nightstand. He 
lit it 
and leaned carelessly against the headboard. The light from the lamp in 
the 
corner spread his shadow over my pale flesh and I shivered 
involuntarily and 
pulled the sheets up around my body. Spike exhaled slowly and studied 
the 
ceiling as he spoke.

"When was the last time you ate Buffy?"

"I eat." I mumbled and tried to turn away from him to sleep. He grabbed 
a 
handful of my hair and yanked me back to face him earning him a raised 
eyebrow and a warning glare from me.

"Don't lie to me. When was the last time that you ate?" His voice was 
careful, controlled. Pronouncing each word slowly before moving on to 
the 
next. I knew I was making him mad and I didn't care. Truth be told, I 
wanted 
him angrier. I wanted him stoked into a blind rage and I wanted him to 
take 
it out on me.

"What does it matter to you anyway Spike?" I yanked myself free from 
his 
grasp and rolled onto my back to watch the smoke from his cigarette 
curl 
into random patterns before it was lost against the dust that clung to 
the 
cracks in the ceiling.

He didn't want to hear that and his hands snapped across the sheets to 
jerk 
me upright in the bed, holding me face to face with him, his fingers 
digging 
into the flesh of my upper arms, grating against the bones that jutted 
out 
beneath my translucent skin. I didn't even flinch.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Do I have to have it bloody well 
tattooed across my forehead? I care about what happens to you because I 
love 
you, Buffy."

He let me go and I crumbled into a heap on top of the worn mattress. 
Ugly 
loaded silence hovered over us for a brief moment before I spoke.

"Spike?"

"What is it, pet?" He bit out as he stabbed his cigarette out against 
the 
nightstand.

"How much do you love me?"

He laid back down beside me and pulled me into his body, spooning my 
back to 
his chest and burying his face into my hair.

"With all my heart Buffy. I love you with all my heart." He whispered 
into 
my hair and ran his fingers lightly up and down my arms trying to 
soothe the 
aches he'd just inflicted.

I swallowed hard and forced a stale breath into my lungs, knowing that 
there 
was no going back once I said what I was about to say. He didn't mind 
my 
silence. That was nothing new. I never told him I loved him back. I 
still 
haven't. He doesn't want to be lied to and it would serve no purpose 
for me 
to even try. We've never lied about what this thing between us is. He 
knows 
just as well as I that it's not based on love, though I know part of 
him 
still wishes it was.

"Would you do something for me Spike?"

I remember distinctly that as those words left my lips I no longer 
recognized my voice. I didn't know who that person was anymore. The 
girl I 
had become no longer resembled even the broken one my friends 
resurrected 
from her grave. The girl whose voice was so hollow as she said those 
words 
was someone I didn't recognize. Someone who shared her bed with a demon 
but 
not her heart. The girl who no longer cared to see the sun. The girl 
running 
in vain from a past that haunted her every moment that she closed her 
eyes.

"Anything Buffy. You know that there's nothing I wouldn't do for you." 
He 
tightened his hold on me, anticipating my response. But what happened 
next 
he never saw coming, though if he'd ever allowed himself to stop and 
really 
take honest stock of our 'relationship' there's no way he would have 
missed 
it.

"Would you kill me Spike?"

I remember how calm my voice was. As if I was asking him to turn off 
the 
lamp before he came to bed and not to please put me out of my misery 
and end 
this shell of an existence I now inhabited.

His entire body stiffened, went rigid with shock and I remained still 
against him, uncaring about what came next. I was serious in my 
request. I 
really wanted to die. I still do. The one thing that was not so certain 
was 
what Spike would do about it.

It took him a full minute to process my words and when he did he jumped 
out 
of the bed so fast I might as well have been on fire. He started pacing 
frantically in front of the bed, throwing a horrified glance in my 
direction 
every six steps or so as he hurriedly threw on his clothing. He stopped 
and 
stared at me, anger evident in his blue eyes as he shrugged on his 
duster. 
He never said a word to me and he didn't have to, I knew from his body 
language that he was furious with me. I just sat there and watched him 
with 
a blank face waiting for him to make up his mind. Then he turned and 
stormed 
out into the night without a word and I laid back down to watch the 
shadows 
crawl across the ceiling until sunrise.

He didn't come home that night or the next and when he finally 
reappeared 
just before dawn two days later he seemed surprised to find me curled 
up in 
a chair reading a book. Of course the shock on his face could have been 
due 
to the fact that I had gone out and gotten my long hair chopped off 
until it 
was just even with my chin.

He didn't say anything about it but I knew he hated it. He'd always 
said 
that he loved my hair. Sometimes when we were stuck indoors during the 
daytime I would lay on my stomach in bed while he put tiny braids into 
my 
hair and told me stories about his childhood and the early days of 
being a 
vampire with some notable omissions.

Neither of us ever mention *Him*. *His* name is taboo as is any subject 
relating to *him*. *He* is the unnamed ghost forever hovering between 
us. 
Whispering at us from the stale air that is exchanged when we kiss, 
staring 
down at me from above when Spike is deep inside me, constantly calling 
to us 
in the steady beat of my pulse and from the silent depths of Spike's 
blood. 
It's better if we don't talk about it.

I knew it would hurt him that I cut my hair and I did do it to spite 
him, 
but it wasn't like there wasn't a practical side to it as well. It's a 
lot 
harder to be yanked around by your hair when there's nothing to grab 
onto 
and with the number of fights with vampires, demons and other uglies we 
found ourselves involved in it was a good move on my part.

He stood there staring at me for a good fifteen minutes. His jaw 
silently 
clenching and unclenching in anger before he stalked across the room 
and 
hauled me up to his mouth, kissing me brutally. It would have gone 
further 
if he hadn't shifted his grip from my arms to my neck as he pulled me 
to my 
feet. The moment that his hands came into contact with the back of my 
neck 
he hissed and dropped me back into the chair. I couldn't help but grin 
up at 
him as he nursed the burn on his palm and stared at me in shock. I 
stood and 
crossed the room to the sink, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it. I 
made 
sure it was soaked before I shut the water off and turned back to find 
him 
still holding his injured hand but the shock on his face had faded into 
an 
amused smirk.

I smirked back as I closed the distance between us carefully and began 
to 
clean his wound. He ran his uninjured hand slowly through my shorn 
locks and 
chuckled.

"Nice tattoo you got there, pet."

I pulled the cloth back and examined the burn under the dim light in 
the room.

"I figured you'd like it Spike."

He dragged his fingernail lightly down the curve of my cheekbone to 
follow 
the slant of my jaw and then carefully down the side of my neck to 
trace the 
edge of the low neckline of my shirt.

"Got any other new tattoos to show off?"

He eyed me warily as I laughed at him and headed back to the sink.

"No Spike. That's it."

He laughed too as he removed his duster and flopped down on the bed. We 
never spoke of my request that he kill me nor his refusal to 
acknowledge it, 
and we never will. We pretend it didn't happen just like we pretend 
that 
most of this isn't happening. But now...now that I'm standing face to 
face 
with reality it's a lot harder to keep pretending.

The irony of my existence suddenly hits me and I laugh out loud causing 
Wesley to take a step back from me. I'm such a hypocrite. I hate Spike 
but I 
sleep with him every night. I love Angel but I can't face him. I want 
to die 
but I'll kill to survive.

Maybe it's because I want to be here for the end. I want to see the 
destruction that my act of rebellion rained down on this earth. Maybe I 
feel 
that it would be cheating for me to die some other way. It's too easy 
and 
it's not nearly enough. I want to feel it, whatever it is that ends 
this 
world. I want it to swallow me as well. I want to close my eyes and 
know 
that this is it. That this is the last thing my friends and my Watcher 
and 
my baby sister are feeling before their life drains out of their 
bodies. No 
more running, no fear of coming back, just pain and death and then when 
it's 
finally over, the silence.

"Why are you here?"

It startles Wesley to find that he's the center of my attention once 
more as 
the hazy blur of my thoughts recedes into the background and I shift my 
focus to the now.

"Well, I mean, it's just that..."

"Spit it out already Wesley, your dawdling is killing the whole world."

He flinches at the words and the casual way they leave my tongue, as if 
it 
was all just a joke and not the ugly and naked truth staring us plain 
in the 
face.

"What do you want?" Irritated, I take a step closer to him beginning to 
invade his personal space, anything to speed this up, to get it over 
with.

"It's Angel."

His words slam into me like a brick wall, surprise surfacing on my face 
as I 
watch him carefully for some sign as to how he's going to finish that 
sentence.

"He wanted me to find you, to see if you were alright. To tell you that 
he 
wants you to come back with me."

His words jar me from my momentary shock and I resume my carefully 
detached 
façade.

"To do what Wesley? Kill his child because he can't bring himself to do 
it?"

I can tell by the sudden resolve in his stance that that isn't it. That 
they 
all must have chosen to stand beside him until the end, just like I 
couldn't. As I feel the familiar rush of shame wash over me, I suddenly 
realize what it is that Wesley's after. What it is that Angel wants. He 
wants me with him when we die. He wants to be near me as this world 
comes 
crashing down to its very foundations because of the choices we each 
made. 
Because we loved each other but it wasn't enough.

It's never enough.

There was once a time in my life when I would have gladly dropped 
everything 
and run to be at his side. Where the very idea of dying without Angel, 
of he 
dying without me there, was too much to bear even in my thoughts. But 
now...now I am no longer that girl. That person that he's longing for, 
that 
he feels is his equal, that deserves to stand by his side no longer 
exists. 
Now I am nothing but a shadow of my former self. A walking shell of a 
person, just holding on until I can embrace death once more and finally 
be 
free of the burden my friends so unknowingly foisted right back onto my 
shoulders at my grave.

No, I won't be returning with Wesley to wherever it is that Angel waits 
out 
these last days and I tell him so. It is not the answer he expects and 
it 
takes him a good second to process the reality that I have refused his 
request. He hesitates briefly then begins to take a step closer to me, 
intent on changing my mind I suppose. But something just beyond my left 
shoulder draws his attention instead, rendering him speechless.

I know who it is well before a strong arm slips around my waist from 
behind 
and pulls my body securely into his. I felt him waiting in the shadows 
long 
before this confrontation with Wesley ever began. He watched carefully 
I'm 
sure, keeping an eye out for any others who might be lying in wait to 
cause 
us harm as I was occupied with the ex-Watcher.

Wesley's face betrays a variety of emotions as his scholar's mind takes 
stock of the overtly possessive way that Spike holds onto my body, and 
the 
casual way that I lean back into him without hesitation or fear. I can 
tell 
that the poor frazzled man is torn between the need to stay and finish 
what 
he came for and the drive to obey his instincts and flee the predator 
that's 
glaring at him from over the shoulder of the girl he was once charged 
with 
guiding away from the very darkness she now embraces. To his credit, 
his 
loyalty to Angel wins out and he visibly swallows before sputtering out 
one 
last question for me.

"What - what am I to tell him?" He regards us warily, watching Spike as 
much 
as me, while he waits for my reply.

"Tell him the truth Wesley."

He looks genuinely perplexed about exactly which truth it is that I am 
referring to. Spike turns to lead me away from the solemn past that 
stands 
staring at us in the dim light of the alley and into the hum and swirl 
of 
the after-hours crowds. I pause at the edge of the street and glance at 
Wesley one last time over my shoulder.

"Tell him I'm dead."

My hollow voice bounces off the narrow alley walls, echoing long after 
I see 
him nod slightly and head quickly in the opposite direction.

I turn back and take Spike's hand as we wade through the throngs of 
drunken 
partiers towards the car, not really seeing the faces of the people 
that 
I've condemned to death as they brush against my skin. It's not about 
them 
or the world or even Angel any longer. It's just about the utter 
wrongness 
of me. About how I should never have had to face that choice. I should 
be 
lying still and silent, pressed underneath the eternal weight of moist 
earth, slowly being absorbed back into the elements that still swirl 
and hum 
inside my veins. I no longer feel anything when I think about those 
that I 
love and how I let them down. I feel no different than I did before 
this 
night ever took place. What I told Wesley is the truth. I'm walking 
around 
wrong, already dead. I have been for a long time.

All this: the running, the waiting, the killing. It's just a formality.

The end of the world is approaching and when it arrives I will stop 
running 
and stand still and smile as it washes over me. Hoping that I am seared 
into 
a swirl of ashes that are blown away in the next instant. Leaving no 
trace 
of who I have become. Leaving nothing behind.

Not even a memory.

**
end

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