It was eleven o’clock the following morning by the time Buffy was able to finally go to bed. She had spent the past seven hours in a hospital waiting room, waiting for news about Rona, who had taken a blade to the stomach during the fight. Giles spent five of those seven trying to convince Buffy to go and get some rest, and buying her coffee. Faith was still with Robin, who had slipped into a coma for a few hours, but thankfully regained consciousness a little over two hours ago, much to Faith’s relief. Dawn had wanted Buffy’s knife wound looked at, but by the time the school bus had reached Los Angeles it was more or less healed, although it would scar. She had, however, had her burnt hand looked at, although that was mostly healed too. But it was still stinging.

She had called Angel, and gave him the bare bones of what had happened in Sunnydale, her voice void of any emotion. Dawn, however, had broken down into tears when Buffy had mentioned Spike. Angel had let her have use of his hotel, which was empty since the Fang Gang had relocated to Wolfram and Hart. When Buffy had been informed about the change, she had told him that he was being ridiculous, and under no certain terms did she agree or approve of his choice. Angel had talked about working from the inside, but Buffy had just stated that it was his choice, but she thought he was making a mistake. More than a little agitated at this point, he had told her how to find the hotel, and what the code to the door was. She had thanked him for his help, before hanging up and relaying the information to Giles. Buffy had spent most of the two hour drive to Los Angeles running around tending to the injured, and talking to Giles about what was going to happen next.

Giles was thinking about going back to England, and recovering what was left of the Watchers Council. There was already talk of starting up a Slayer training facility once more Slayers had been found. Buffy became heavily involved with the discussion, all the while directing Giles, glad of the distraction. She, too, was thinking about England, and thought it might be a nice change of pace from California. And, maybe seeing Europe. She had always wanted to go to Paris, and Rome. It would be good for Dawn, too, who had never been farther than San Francisco. And Dad was in Spain, living the cliché with his secretary, so maybe she could drop in on him too. And possibly shout at him for never visiting after Mom died, Buffy thought.

So it wasn’t until mid-morning before Buffy finally slipped into one of the furnished rooms at the Hyperion Hotel. There was a large double bed, and pleasant furnishings. She noted the heavy drapes, and realized that this was probably Angel’s old room. She looked over at the plain dresser on the other side of the room and picked up a wooden photo frame. The picture inside showed Cordelia, Angel, Wesley and two people she didn’t recognise. Cordelia’s hair was up, in an elegant bun, and she was wearing a black dress that was cut low. She was on Angel’s arm, laughing at something Wesley had said, she thought. Angel was wearing a tuxedo, as were the other men, and he was oblivious to the camera. He was looking adoringly at the pretty ex-cheerleader.

He loved her. She realised.

Funny.

That should hurt her more.

Huh.

Her eyes flitted over to Wesley, who was looking at Cordelia as she laughed, standing next to a pretty brunette, while a black man Buffy didn’t recognise seemed to be whispering something amusing in her ear. Buffy smiled at the picture, and felt a pang for Angel when he remembered that Cordelia was in a coma. The way they were dressed showed that they were going out somewhere, maybe to a formal or perhaps somewhere like the opera.

Placing the picture back on the dresser, she walked into the bathroom that was connected to her room. Although she was exhausted, her clothes were chafing her, and she really needed to wash the blood off of her, as well as her hair. She picked up the bag that Willow had dropped off at her room, and opened it to find a pair of pyjamas, a toothbrush and toothpaste, vanilla body wash, coconut shampoo/conditioner, two bath towels and, bizarrely, a box of tissues. Willow had evidently been shopping, something she had realised when she saw many of the girls donning similar pyjamas, as well as the large bags of food. She went into the bathroom, stripped and turned the water on. When the water was warm enough, she entered it, and set about cleaning the blood and grime from her body and hair. When she was finished, she dried off, and donned the pyjamas, which, she registered, were covered in Christmas trees.

Must be a clearance sale. A really overdue one.

She brushed her hair and washed her teeth, before entering the bedroom again. She dropped the bag onto the bedside table, and closed the drapes. Collapsing onto the bed, she tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, too tired to even bother with any covers. Sighing, she laid on her back, and tried to pinpoint exactly what she was feeling. Her face crumpled in confusion, when it suddenly hit her exactly what she was feeling.

Hollow.

Grief.

Pain.

Guilt.

Alone.

Spike was dead. Dead. He wasn’t coming back.

He was gone.

And she loved him.

And he hadn’t believed her.

He was dead. Gone. Dust. Buried at the bottom of the hellmouth with that stupid amulet. He wasn’t coming back to her. He would never hold her while she slept again. Never touch her, stroke her hair, kiss her. Never hit her, annoy her, taunt her. Never call her pet, love, kitten, Goldilocks, cutie or sweetheart. Never fight with her, train with her patrol with. Never watch her back. He would never look at her with those deep, blue eyes that would change colour with mood.

He would never tell her he loved her again.

And she would never get to tell him.

A cracked sob escaped her throat that was painful from the lump in it.

Were you there with me?

I was.

What does that mean?

I don’t know.

And, God help her she didn’t. She hadn’t been able to name the feelings she had for him, so different from those she’d had for Angel. Her feelings for Spike were nothing like the romantic, fanciful albeit deep love she’d had for her first love. The feelings she had for Spike were raw, passionate, powerful, and shook her to her very core. She hadn’t been able to recognise them until the very last moment. When she had linked her hand with his and felt his soul burning inside him, and looked up into his eyes that were filled with awe and love. When she realised she was going to lose him, that he was going to die and she realised that she was looking at him in the exact way he was looking at her.

She loved him.

Buffy loves Spike.

And he didn’t believe her.

No, you don’t. But thanks for saying it.

Another cry erupted from her throat, and this time she was unable to hold anymore back. Tears streamed down her face, and her body shook with the intensity of every sob. Her hands fisted in the sheets, and her tears soaked into the pillow. Just last night he had been here, holding her close to his chest, afraid to let her go. Keeping her safe from the world, in a bubble of happiness and love. Stroking her hair, kissing her temple, whispering comforts into her ear.

And now he wasn’t.

Now she was alone. The crying was becoming steady now, as Buffy relived everything she had done with him.

When she first met him, outside the Bronze, vowing to kill her.

Their first fight, him about to plunge his fangs into her neck and drain her dry.

Putting him in a wheelchair.

Asking for her help in killing Angel.

Drunk and depressed when Dru left him.

Taunting her with the Gem of Amarra.

Seeking her help once again when he was chipped.

Willow’s engagement spell, sitting on his lap and making wedding plans.

Betraying her to Adam.

Making small talk with her family.

Telling her he loved her.

Finding flowers he had left for her dead mother.

Vowing to protect her sister.

The look of awe when he realized she was alive again.

The guilt in his eyes when he apologised for being unable to save her.

The images came thick and fast now, clouding Buffy’s brain as she struggled with the pain the memories invoked.

Saving her from that stupid singing demon.

Kissing her.

Having sex with her.

Beating the crap out of him for wanting to help her.

When she broke up with him.

The look of horror on his face when he realised what he had almost done in the bathroom.

Draped over a cross when he told her about his soul.

Insane in the basement.

Helping her train the potentials.

Having faith in her when everyone else had turned her away.

Helping her through one of the worst nights of her life.

God, it was too much. It was too painful. She needed him, needed him to hold her, kiss her, never let her go. Needed him to tell her that she was going to be okay. Needed…needed…needed him. Reaching out for the box of tissues, she hastily grabbed a few, and tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, but they were immediately replaced by fresh ones. Her stomach was in knots, and she thought she might pass out from the pain. She didn’t know how long she lay there crying before two people slipped into the room with her. She dimly registered her sister lying down next to her, spooning her body against her own, and gently stroking her damp hair from her face. Willow lied down on the other side of Buffy, and held her hand as she cried, as the two offered what little comfort they could.



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



Got the end scene of Willow and Dawn from the episode when Phoebe kills Cole on Charmed, and Piper and Paige comfort her on the bed while she cries. I thought it was really sweet, so I wanted to try something like it.

//Five Months Later//

England was a mistake. England was a great, black, oozing pit of a mistake. The reasons why could fill a book. And not just any book either. One of Giles’ tomes.

He was everywhere, everywhere she looked, everywhere she turned. London practically screamed of him. Everything reminded her of him. There wasn’t an hour that passed during the waking hours that she didn’t see something that reminded her of him. Today, she had seen a man wearing a Manchester United football shirt, and memories of a long-forgotten conversation were stirred.

Truth is I like this world. You’ve got dog racing, Manchester United......

And that was all it had taken to set her off. Tears had stung her eyes which she fought back with a vengeance. And she was fine until thirty five minutes later, she saw a bag of mini marshmallows at the supermarket.

This was insane. This city was driving her slowly crazy. Everytime she heard a cockney accent, or saw a flash of white-blonde hair, she still half expected to turn round and see him.

So she was leaving. It was decided, it was done. She’d already bought two one-way tickets to Rome in two weeks time, and she was already packing up the apartment. It wasn’t going to take her long, most of the furniture had come with the place, and few possessions had survived the hellmouth. A few dozen photos, Mr. Gordo, Mr Pointy and her diaries were all she had left. At first she was unsure whether to bring them along, but she had reasoned that they talked about Slaying and what she had first gone through when she had become the chosen one. Buffy figured that it might help the girls when they became Slayers. And in the few months since the hellmouth closed, she hadn’t acquired that much. She’d be packed by the end of the week.

She had been unsure where she wanted to go when she decided to leave England. She thought back to Spike’s words in the hellmouth.

“It’s your world up there. Now GO!”

He had died to give her and her sister a life, something outside demons and vampires. She was free to do whatever she wanted, whatever she loved. And what did she love doing? She had pondered. Shopping. So what better place to go than Italy, home of some of the world’s best designers. So she would go. Eat pasta and ice-cream, buy shoes and clothes and generally have fun, and feel free to do whatever she desired. A concept that she was still struggling to deal with. Free from obligations. She liked the sound of it.

Dawn hadn’t exactly been hard to convince. The lure of gorgeous boys, beautiful weather and fantastic shopping was too much for Dawn to turn down. She was already teaching herself Italian. “’Cause” she said, “it sounds dead sexy.” Buffy had laughed at that. Giles was going to sort out a school for her, and she was excited about it. Giles had insisted that Andrew go with her, and Buffy had agreed, although she had been adamant he was at least living three miles away from her.

Andrew was out there now, looking round a few places so Buffy would be able to choose when she arrived. Something Buffy was more grateful for than she let on. It made the whole move much easier not worrying too much about somewhere to live.

They had only been in England for five months. After leaving Los Angeles a little less than a week after closing the hellmouth, they had been in France, and she had spent three weeks in Norway. By the time they had reached England, after another two weeks in Finland, the number of Slayers they had found was increasing daily. After taking all their details down in Willow’s database, they had promised to come and train once the Council and school were set up.

The first month in London had been hectic to say the least. Giles was reaching out to any surviving Watchers, and was pleased to find that many had been with the Potentials when the Council was blown up, leaving a large number to re-constitute the ancient assembly.

Buffy had also met a demon hunter from Chicago, called Jack, who had become an integral part of Giles' operation. Despite her immediate distaste for the man, she ended up patrolling with him most evenings. They had eventually become firm friends (although neither would ever openly admit to that), and she had found friendly competition and easy banter, although even that was bittersweet, as she would ogten be reminded of Spike. He was full of innuendos, and sometimes crude, but she knew he had actually fallen hard for Claire, the first Slayer she had discovered in the country. She would miss Jack, when she left- although, she would never tell him that.

She would miss the apartment, or ‘flat’, she had spent the past three months in. It was a fairly luxurious place, near Edgeware. The school Giles had bought was only a ten minute walk from her, although it would be a good few months before it was up and running. The building was huge, despite it’s deceivingly small exterior. There were five floors, including a large hall, a dance studio, a snooker/table tennis room, as well as a large canteen and reception area. That wasn’t including the numerous offices, and computer room, as well as a number of activity rooms. It was being used as a Jewish Club, but the owners were looking to re-locate near a Jewish School. Luckily, Giles had been able to scrape together enough money to both buy and re-design the club. He was intending to turn the lower basement into recreational facilities, as the club had left much of the equipment behind. The upper basement was being used as training rooms and classrooms. The ground floor was to be left as it was, as it housed only the canteen and reception area. The first and second floors were to be turned into dorm rooms and offices. The project was costing a huge seven million English pounds, the club included. Buffy had promised to come back during the summer, once she had got some distance between her and the hellmouth.

Willow and Kennedy had left for Brazil two weeks ago, and Xander had left for Africa while they were in France. Contact between Xander and anyone else had been limited, but everyone let him have the space he needed and hoped he would return to them once he had worked through his grief. She received a short phone call or e-mail about once a month, but they weren’t detailed and were generally just a note to tell them he was still alive. Willow and Buffy spoke at least once a week, if not more. Buffy got the impression that things between her and Kennedy were strained, and then Willow had mentioned that the Slayer was considering leaving for Cleveland. Willow hadn’t seemed particularly upset at this, and explained that they were separating on good terms.

Two weeks later, Buffy was on a plane, seated next to her sister, headed for Rome.




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

I know this chap is short, but I just wanted to get the transition from England to Rome over with. I wanted to do more with Jack, but I'm impatient and want to get to Spike before chapter five :). These chapters are just basically a background on what Buffy was doing during Season 5 on Angel. Also the Jewish club I described is a real place- my step-grandpa is president there.

---

Buffy struggled with the lock to her apartment. Cursing under her breath, the mechanism finally clicked and she tugged on the handle. She stomped into the hall and flung her black clutch onto the side table, closely followed by her keys. What had started as a fun, enjoyable evening had rapidly become tense, and she was feeling more than a little agitated. She was unsure about what had her so on edge, until she entered her sitting room and detected the scent of cigarette smoke in the air. She sighed heavily to herself, and turned as Andrew let himself in. Unusually silent, Andrew shrugged his jacket off and hung it up on the wall before locking the door.

"He was here, wasn't he?" Buffy asked.

"Yeh." Andrew replied.

"Jerk." Buffy muttered under her breath, accompanied by a kick to the coffee table. "He was at the club too?" she asked more audibly.

"Yeh." Andrew said.

"Thought so. I could sense him, just didn't know what.....Angel was here too?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeh. They stopped by a couple of hours ago. And a while before that, too." Andrew informed her.

"Where are they now?"

"L.A. They didn't want to stick around after I told them....." Andrew trailed off, sensing danger as Buffy swiveled around and glared at him.

"Told them what!?

"Uh...well...that...about...y'know.....you and the Immortal?" Andre stammered. Buffy looked puzzled for a moment.

"Huh?" Her eyes widened in sudden understanding. "You did WHAT?"

"I told them that you two were...y'know...dating?" he asked.

"What in Gods name gave you that idea!" She demanded.

"Well, it's just that...y'know....with the snuggling.....you're not......dating?" he asked.

"My GOD, what is wrong with you. Just 'cause he gave me a couple of cuddles on the sofa, we're betrothed or something! He's GAY, Andrew, gay for chrissakes! God, I don't believe you!" she shouted. "And...wait, they just left?"

"Uh...yeah." Andrew replied, mentally breathing a sigh of relief that her anger was being directed elsewhere. Buffy flopped onto the couch.

"Asswipes." she muttered. She sighed heavily, putting her head in her hands for a few moments, fighting back the urge to cry. She had known Spike had been back for a while, ever since she had found a large number of Walfram and Hart surveillance pictured in Giles' office. It was safe to say that the conversation that followed hadn't been pleasant, especially when she had discovered that Andrew had actually seen him a little over a month before hand.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Nope" Buffy said with earnest.

Buffy was determined to let him make the first move. For all he knew, she could still be completley unaware of his return, so the task fell to him to make the first connection. Andrew had told her that he was going to call, but as time webt on, it became more and more apparent to the Slayer that he had moved on. That he no longer wanted to be a part of her life, or Dawn's for that matter. The fact that he had shown up at her apartment and hadn't bothered to stick around to see her proved her belief further. And that was fine with her. If he didn't want her, then there were plenty of other guys out there who did. And it would serve him right if he thought she was in a relationship again. If he wanted to move on, then two could play at that game.

The Immortal, or Dante, had tried to court her when Buffy had first arrived in the Eternal City. Buffy had rebuffed all of his approaches, until the night she had found out Spike had returned and didn't want to talk to her. She had ended up getting more than a little tipsy, and he had taken her back to her apartment. When he had asked her what was wrong with her, she had refused to talk. It was only with gentle coaxing, and the revelation of his own dark secret that she had ended up telling him everything. When he had told her that his gay, she had been slightly taken aback, but not all together shocked. The guy had more shoes than her, for Gods sake. He had talked about his attempts to come across as straight, while he had listened to her description of the abusive relationship she had once shared with Spike. Although he had tried to gently pursuade her to contact Spike, she had shied away from the topic, much in the way that he had shied away when she attempted to puruade him to 'come out'. After a while they had both desisted, and would often just talk for hours. Buffy had been particularly miserable the day before, so Dante had offered to take her dancing, remembering how she would often talk of partying at the Bronze.

Andrew looked down at the petite blonde, and sighed softly.

"They came to get some kind of head, or something." Andrew said.

"Huh?" Buffy asked, lost in thought.

"Angel and Spike." Andrew explained.

"Oh." she sighed again. "Y'know, the least the jerk could've done is picked up the bill for all the crockery he broke." Buffy said.

"You broke the crockery." Andrew pointed out. "You broke three plates, two cups, five bowls and a wine glass. You threw them at me."

"I wouldn't have if he had told me he was back in the land of the not-quite-living. Besides, Dawn threw the wine glass at you, not me." Buffy informed him. The youngest Summers had not taken the news that Andrew had lied to them about Spike particularly well. Nor the idea that she was going to have to wait around for Spike to contact them. She was already saving up for a ticket to Los Angeles by working in a small cafe in the town. She was two thirds of the way there, and was planning on going during summer vacation, before she started her last year of school.

"I'm sorry. I really thought you and The Immortal...." he began.

"Dante." she corrected.

"Right, you and Dante....I really thought you were a couple. I had no idea that he was gay. I promise." He said.

"That's O....Oh crap. Please don't tell him I told you that. Please don't tell him you know at all." She begged, suddenly realising that her anger had let her slip out her friend's secret.

"I won't." he promised.

"Thank you." she said gratefully. "I'm going to bed, I'll see you in the morning."

"OK. Goodnight Buffy." Andrew said, as she made her way up the stairs. Buffy slipped into bed to be greeted by disturbing dreams that kept her tossing and turning most the night.

---

If you're interested, Dante is an Italian name meaning 'Lasting', so I thought that it fitted the Immortal quite well : )

The simplest things can blow your whole world apart.

One single moment can change your whole future.

One seemingly unimportant choice can change everything.


A little over a week had passed since Spike and Angel had been in Rome, when it happened. Buffy was stood before the sink in her apartment, making her way through the large stacks of washing up that had been piling up due to neglect. It was a little past one o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon, and Buffy submersed herself in the mundane task, struggling to keep her mind occupied, so that there would be no place for any thoughts linking back to a certain blonde vampire. She sighed as the blue and white checkered wash cloth passed over the pattern on her new china plate.The soapy water had become tepid, so as she placed the now clean plate onto the draining board, she tipped a the tepid water out, before refilling it with hot. She then began wiping out a large mug.

Then the phone rang.

Something so decivingly innocent, a phone ringing. Yet it would be this phone call that started off a chain of events that could always be traced back to this moment. This simple concept that would blow the world apart. Blow Buffy's world apart.

This is the moment where everything changed.

Buffy threw off her lemon-yellow washing up gloves, and wiped her moist hands on her jeans, before reaching over to the cordless phone that was left on her kitchen counter.

"Hello?"


And so it began.

---

Buffy's car screeched out the apartment complex's carpark with hell on it's heels. Which wasn't unaccurate. The blonde woman drove haphazardly, while frantically making phone calls the entire way. As she pulled into a large white building's car park, she slammed the phone down (or she would have if the button hadn't been so damn small), and raced up to the entrace.

Five minutes later and she was screaming at the receptionist in Ospedale Generale S. Carlo, cursing both herself and the receptionist for their lack of understandig for eithers language. Finally, with the help of some illustrations and a kindly gentleman who happened to speak a little English, she found herself in an elevator travelling to the fifth floor.

As she travelled up, the stench of disinfectant only fueled her fear and the pit of dread in her stomach, terrified of what she might find on the other side of the large steel door. The elevator stopped at the fourth, and she smiled kindly, if a little shakily, to the old woman in a wheelchair who wheeled herself in.

Her hands shaking, she closed the door, and when it opened again she found herself on the fifth floor. She raced down the hallway until she was stoopd in front of room 118. She peered inside and saw a young boy with sandy hair, cleaving to a pretty girl with blonde hair, while a woman with dark hair and olive skin stood by the door. As she entered the room, she saw another boy with dark wiry hair and glasses, holding onto the hand of a brunette girl who was lieing motionless on the bed.

"Dawn." Buffy whispered, and it was only with the utterance of her name that everyone became aware of her presence. The boy at her bedside shot up immediately, and left the seat vacant for the American woman to sit in.

Buffy took the opportunityto sit down, and she clung onto the hand of the sister she had been gifted with just a few short years ago.

"What...what happened?" she asked, finally finding her voice.

"We do not know." said the dark haired woman, who Buffy recognised as Dawn's principal. Her voice was steady, but her hands were shaking. "This afternoon...they are playing the sports on the field. Then Dawn, she starts...grabbing at her head, and screaming. She fell onto the ground, and....there was much pain and noise. And she talks about....about demons and a spike and an angel. When it did not pass, we call for ambulanza, and the medici, they...calm her with medicine. She sleeps now." the woman tried to explain.

Buffy nodded, her eyes never moving from her sisters still form, and she vaguely registered a tear falling down her face.

"What did the doctors....uh, medici, say?" she asked, brushing a lock of heair from her sisters face.

"They wish to do scans on her head." the principal told her. "I am spaicente that I could not do more. You will have to excuse me, I am needed at the school. You will telephone me should anything change?"

"Yes." Buffy said. "Grazie for your help."

"Luca, Alessandra, Marco, siete liberi rimanere oggi con voi l'amico, ma a meno che qualche cosa cambi la speranza di I vederli indietro al tommorow della scuola." the principal addressed the three children in the room, before saying her farewells and departing.

Buffy's mind wandered to what the woman had said, about demons and a spike and an angel. Obviously she was talking about her demon ex-lovers, but why she had started shouting about them she had no idea, as well as the demons she was talking about.
The scene described to her was giving Buffy unwelcome flashbacks to the months before her mother died.

She remembered Dawn telling her about how her mother had collapsed, but it sounded a lot less violent than would had occured at her sister's school today. Praying desperately to many different gods, godesses and deities she hardly ever called upon, as well as sending an inward scowl to the Powers That Be, she asked not to be put through the pain she had dealt with when her mother got sick and eventually died.

Although Buffy was well aware that her sister probably didn't have a tumor or anything of the like, and what was happening to her was less than natural. It had been described to her in the past that Doyle and Cordelia's vision were often of a violent nature, and knew that perhaps that the burden may have been placed on the small, seemingly fragile shoulders of her sister. Inside she was screaming at the Powers for burdening another of the Summers women with something other than normal. Something that could prevent Dawn having the kind of life she might want, and swore that if Dawn had been given the sight, she would be having words next time she died.

Dawn's friends shifted uncomfortably, until Luca, the bespectacled boy with wiry hair offered to get her a coffee in fluent English. She looked up at him in surprise, unaware until then that she wasn't the only English-speaking person in the room. Ignoring the first question, Buffy instead asked what the principal had said to them before she left.

"She said that she understands if we do not return to school this afternoon, but hopes to see us tomorrow." he explained. "Would you like a coffee?" he repeated the question.

"Please." she nodded, and noticed that the young couple also left with him. A moment later she heard a tiny whimper coming from her sister.

"Dawn?" she asked. The young girl shifted her head, and her eyes fluttered open.

"Buffy?" she asked weakley.
"I'll call the doctor." she said, pressing the call button.

"What happened?" Dawn asked.

"You don't remember?" Dawn shook her head. "You collapsed at school. Started taking about Spike and Angel, and screaming. You don't remember?" Dans brow furrowed as she began to remember, before her eyes widened. She sat up in bed suddenly, and grabbed onto her sister's arm.

"Oh God! Buffy, they're in trouble. There was this huge battle, and it was just four of them against thusands, Buffy you have to help them! Go to L.A., please!" she begged.

"Not until you're well. Do you know when it happened, or when it's happening?" she asked.

"Soon. Buffy, you have to go, there's not much...." she was cut off as the doctor entered the room, and began asking questions about what Dawn remembered. Wisely, the young girl kept any talk of demons out of her conversation, and just described a very sudden, painful headache that the doctor signed off as a violent migraine, checked for a concussion of any kind from her fall, before subscibing her medication and expressing his wishes to keep her over night for observation, and taking a few scans of her head. Dawn relayed the information to her sister, who had become fluent in Italian during their short months spent in the country.

Buffy accepted everything that was being said. The doctor left the room, and Dawn requested some time alone with her sister. As the door closed, Dawn turned her eyes to her sister.

"Buffy, you have to go to them. If not for them, then for me. Please?" she asked. Buffy shook her head.

"Look, I know you're concerned, but this may amount to nothing. You've just been thinking a lot about them lately, what with the impromptu visit."

"No! It's not! Buffy, I saw them, and they're going to die! We have to help them!" she exclaimed.

"Okay, okay. I'll call Giles, see if he can get in contact with Wesley or someone, find out what's happening. But....." she began but was cut off by her younger sibling.

"Too late. It'll be too late. Buffy, you have to call the other Slayers, we need to move now. Before it's too late." Noticing the undecisive look on her sisters face, she made one last desperate attempt. "Spike would've done it. Spike would've believed me." she sulked.

Buffy's eyes narrowed at her younger sister.

"That was below the belt." she said.

"Please. Just go. Mount up. I'll be fine. Andrew'll look after me, or Dante....."

"Dante's in New York. For another week. This won't take that long."

"So you're going then?" Dawn asked, and Buffy realised her slip.

"No...."

"But you just said...." Buffy took in her sisters wide eyes, glistening with tears. "Please." she whispered. "I never got a chance to say I'm sorry. And if you don't go...." Buffy felt her resolve crumble, and nodded.

"Okay. We'll go. Mount up, the works. I just...." she was cut off by the appearance of Andrew, who came in lugging a bunch of flowers, a balloon, grapes and a deck of cards.

"Hi! You're okay!" he exclaimed, and gave her a hug, after thrusting his purchases onto Buffy. "I brought my Yu-Gi-Oh cards, I thought we could play, if you're feeling better. And look, flowers, 'cause they smell nice, and hospitals don't, and grapes, 'cause Mr. Giles says you should always give sick people...."

"Andrew!" Buffy cut him off, before dropping the assortment of presents on the bed. "I'm going to have to take off for a few days. Something's come up in L.A.Can you look after her Dawn?" At Dawn's disgruntles snort, Buffy quickly changed her wording before Dawn could complain. "I mean, uh, keep an eye on her."

"This is so not fair, you get to guy and kick bad guy ass, and I get stuck with Andrew. I'm the one who had the god damn vision!" she pouted, ans Buffy kissed her forehead.

"Don't worry. If he gets too annoying you can gag him again. Or kill him, whatever." she said, sharing a private smile at Andrew's strangled gasp. "I'll be back soo, okay?" Dawn nodded. "I love you."

"I love you too." The last thing Buffy heard before leaving the room and high tailing it to the airport was Andrew's excited screch.

"You got a vision! That is so cool!"

Yes, everything had changed since that one phone call this morning.

---

spaicente means sorry, ambluanza means ambulance, and medici means doctors. Hope you enjoyed, please review!

“War is about death. Needless, stupid death.”

If those words did not now hold true, when would they? Looking out from her place upon the rooftop, at the hundreds-if not thousands- of demons swarming over the ground, as fast and deadly as oil leaking into the sea, Buffy knew. This battle- this war-would cost them. Death. This place reeked of it. Clinging to her skin, clogging up her pores, seeping it’s way into her blood. She knew. This battle would be bloody, make no mistake.

She could feel her sister Slayer, her true sister Slayer, behind her. Her body was tense and ready for battle, gripping to the weapon as if it were a giver of life, the only thing that would sustain her. Maybe it would be.

Behind Faith she could sense the crowd of Slayers she had managed to gather in time for his battle. This potential war.

Buffy could see them below her, the tiny group huddled, awaiting the horde that would surely kill them. And she could see him, clear as day. Clearer even. The shock of white hair made him impossible to miss. Buffy in turn gripped her own weapon, the scarlet scythe she had pulled from the rock. The giver of power, of purpose. The giver of death.

God, she wished she was elsewhere. Somewhere, anywhere but here. She didn’t want to be a part of what she knew would be inevitably a blood bath. This, according to the research-y types at the Watchers Council, was The Apocalypse. All capitalized and everything, as if all the work she had done in the past years had been merely a footnote.

And that more than pissed her off.

But it wasn’t written in any prophecy that her presence be demanded. She could be sat outside her favourite café, drinking coffee with Dante, talking about anything and everything. She could be shoe shopping in her favourite boutique. She would rather be doing paperwork than being here. Christ, she would rather walk on hot coals. She could be watching crappy sci-fi movies with Andrew chattering on in her ear, for God’s sake, and still be having more fun.

Well, maybe not that last one.

But still.

This sucked regardless.

But maybe that had more to do with the prospect of talking to a certain bleach blonde than the upcoming battle. Battles she could do. Battles she could handle. But emotions? Specifically hers? Much with the not being able to handle. The lack of handling was almost unbelievable. She knew she was going to screw this up one way or another. And she was so mad at him. She was angry and confused-and tired of being angry and confused! She just wanted this over, so she could go back to Rome and move on with her life. Move on from him, like he’d moved on from her.


Buffy turned around to her red-headed best friend, who was currently sat cross-legged on the rooftop.

“What’s the plan?” she asked.

“Less of a plan, more of a….theory.” Willow told her, as she cast the circle.

“A theory? Is that gonna be enough?”

“We’ll wait and see. Anyway, it seems the demons have a residual energy, something demons in our dimension don’t have. So I traced it back to the portal they must be arriving through. I’m gonna try and shut it down, stop any more demons from coming through.”

“Sounds like it’s got plan-like qualities to me.” Buffy said with a half smile. “Okay, you shut down the portal. We’ll do a little search and destroy. Only, y’know…minus the searching.”

“You ready for this B?” Faith asked.

“Sure. I haven’t had a decent life or death battle for almost a year. I was almost missing it.” Buffy answered, as she watched her two vampiric lovers jump into battle. “Let’s go to work.”

Immediately herself and Faith began shouting orders, watching as girls, women, Slayers began abseiling down the building, ten at a time. Turning to her left she saw the remaining slayers at the ready; crossbows, bow and arrows, some alight with fire, were poised and ready to fire. With one last glance at the battle below she called.

“Fire!” A flurry of shots, arrows finding their marks true, flew through the air. Below dozens of demons fell, submitting to death. The battalion of Slayers below were fighting tooth and nail, battle cries piercing the air. Again and again arrows left their bows, finding their way into hearts of devils and demon.

Soon the demons retaliated, and Buffy couldn’t help but gasp when an arrow embedded itself in the shoulder of the girl stood next to her. She caught her as she fell, and was able to remove the arrow easily. Moments later a young girl was pressing padding to the wound, kneeling down beside her.

“I’ll look after her.” She said. Buffy nodded.

“What’s you name?” Buffy asked.

“Asa.” She replied, with a blush.

“Thank you, Asa.” Buffy replied. Getting to her feet Buffy again focused in the battle at hand.

Almost without realising, Buffy sought out Spike, eyes desperately scanning the ground below, until they rested on his platinum hair. He was up against the wall, fighting for his very existence. An existence, she realised, that within minutes would be no more. The demon he was fighting was huge, and every swipe of the broad sword he carried was avoided or blocked with what seemed to be great difficulty. He was weakening by the second, his face bloodied and bruised.

He wasn’t going to last.

He was going to die.

And she wasn’t going to be able to say goodbye.

She wasn’t going to be able to shout at him, or scream at him, or ask him the million and one questions she needed to.

Funny how, little under an hour ago, she had wanted to leave without talking to him at all. Now all she wanted was to bury herself in his arm, kiss every part of him to make sure he was real.

She was going to lose him.

Well, screw that. She thought. Grabbing her scythe, Buffy looked once at Faith, who nodded, knowingly. She would take charge. She would give orders, and become General in Buffy’s absence. Buffy returned the nod before setting her sights once more on Spike.

Then she jumped.

Into battle.

Into war.

Into the fray.