Some time later she opened them again. Oh well, she hadn�t really thought it would work. After all, she could count on the fingers of one hand the total number of hours she�d slept in the last few nights. Too many thoughts and worries all competed for her attention.

      Just then Angel rolled over onto his back, which enabled Buffy to carefully ease her way off the bed. Standing there, she gazed at him, his face calm and white in the moonlight, sleeping like one of the dead. Or Undead, in his case. Would she ever see him again, much less be in his arms or feel his kiss on her lips? Keep him safe, she prayed desperately to whatever Power or Entity there might be who cared.

      Suddenly she caught sight of the digital display on her clock-radio, and stared in disbelief. Three o�clock! She had slept - for over four hours! Looking at Angel again, she knew she had him to thank for even that small amount of rest. Without the comfort of his presence, his embrace, it wouldn�t have been possible. It was almost time to wake him, but let him sleep a few more precious minutes.

      Buffy crossed over to the window and stared outside at the night. Caleb was dead, for real this time (she devoutly hoped), but her vision of the ubervamp army, millions strong, had never left her mind. How could one Slayer, or even two, possibly defeat such a force? And although the Scoobies and the Potentials would also be fighting, she knew with a stabbing ache that the chances of any of them surviving this battle were slender indeed. But the hard, cold truth was that she needed every bit of help she could gather to fight the First, which was the only reason she hadn�t begged her friends to flee to safety. Okay, that plus she knew they wouldn�t go, any more than Dawn had.

      Caleb suddenly materialized at her side. �Pretty, ain�t it?� he remarked, looking through the window with her.

       Buffy started, but instantly relaxed. �You�re not him.�

       �No, you killed him right and proper,� the First agreed, in Caleb�s soft, southern tones. �Terrible loss,� It continued, facing her. �This man was my good right arm. 'Course, it doesn't pain me too much. Don't need an arm; got an army.�

       Buffy said in mock-consternation, �An army of vampires. However will I fight a bunch of - oh right, I've been doing that for years!�

       �Every day our numbers swell,� the First informed her casually. �But then, you do have an army of your own. Some thirty-odd, pimply-faced girls, don't know the pointy end of a stake.� Gasping, It echoed her mocking tone, bringing a hand up to Caleb�s mouth. �Maybe I should call this off!�

       �Have you ever considered a cool name?� countered Buffy. �Since you're incorporeal and basically powerless, you could call yourself� - she pretended to think - " �The Taunter! Strikes fear into -� �

       �I will overrun this earth,� the First told her calmly, with supreme confidence.

       Buffy sighed. �You know how many people have said that to me?�

       �I do, since they all had a small part of me in them. Whereas I have all of me in me, so I like my chances somewhat better. And when my army outnumbers the humans on this earth, the scales will tip and I will be made flesh.�

       �Talk on,� Buffy replied in as bored a voice as she could manage. �I�m not afraid of you.�

       The First cocked Caleb�s head. �Then why aren�t you asleep in your dead lover�s arms?� Buffy glanced over at Angel but made no reply. The First went on, � 'Cause he can't help you. Nor Faith, nor your friends . . . certainly not your little wannaslay brigade. None of those girlies will ever know real power unless you're dead. You know the drill - �

       Suddenly It morphed into the semblance of Buffy herself, continued speaking in Buffy�s own voice. �Into every generation, a Slayer is born. One girl in all the world. She alone will have the strength and skill to fight the - �

       It paused in the middle of the familiar spiel. �Well, there's that word again. What you are . . . how you'll die.� Familiar green eyes met her own straightly. �Alone.�

       Buffy remained silent, staring at her own image (which she admitted to herself was a very effective ploy), taking in what the First had said.

       �Where�s your snappy comeback?� the First taunted her.

       "You�re right,� said Buffy softly.

       The First considered this. �Hmm. Not your best.�

       �I�m drowning in footwear!� Angel suddenly called out. As a startled Buffy looked over at him, the First vanished. Angel woke with a jerk. Sitting up, he ran his hand over his face. �Weird dream,� he mumbled, then glanced up at her. �Buffy?�

       She didn�t answer. An idea was beginning to coalesce, and it needed all her attention. �What is it?� Concerned, Angel walked over. �Is something wrong?�

       �No,� she replied absently. Then, �Yes.� She smiled slowly. �I just realized something.� Looking up at Angel, she told him, �We�re gonna win.�

       �Uh-huh.� Angel gave his head a brisk shake, as if to wake himself up. �I gather something happened while I was sleeping?�

       �I had an idea, courtesy of the First. Come over here and I�ll tell you about it.� Going back to the bed she sat down, patting the area next to her and arranging a pillow behind her back. Angel sat beside her and she told him her plan.

       He was silent for a long minute after she was done, thinking it over. �I think it�ll work, Buffy. But . . . things are really going to be different, afterward. There�ll be lots of difficulties to face. Have you thought of that?�

       �Not really,� she told him. �Because unless we do this there may not be an afterward for us to be worried about. We have the amulet, great, but we don�t know what it does or even how to use it, so we can�t rely on it.�

       Slowly he nodded his agreement.

       Buffy came down the stairs slowly, pausing halfway down as she heard someone whaling away at the heavy punching bag. No, not someone. It had to be Spike; no one else could hit it that hard. Despite herself she was relieved to know he was safely back in the house. Basement, she hastily amended. He looked up as she entered.

      �Well! Didn�t expect to see you here tonight. What�s the matter, your snuggly-bear snoring so much you can�t sleep, and you�ve got no one to talk to but good old Spike?�

       �Angel�s gone back to Los Angeles.�

      (One last kiss and embrace, knowing they might well *be* the last, then one long, silent look exchanged before he got in the limo. Then the car was driving off, and she watched the red taillights vanish into the darkness.)

       �Oh, just popped around for a quickie, then,� Spike noted in a snide tone. �Well, he always was the love-�em-and-leave-�em type, in case you hadn�t already figured that out.�

       �Good,� sighed Buffy, leaning against a support. �This is good. I didn�t have quite enough jealous vampire crap last night.�

       �He wears lifts, you know,� Spike shot at her as he stomped over to the bed.

       Buffy glanced at the punching bag, blinked, and looked again. On it was taped a crude drawing: the face of a vampire with long fangs, a comically high forehead, and dark hair shooting improbably straight up from the head. It obviously represented Angel, and just as obviously had been the target of Spike�s fists.

       She shook her head. �One of these days, I'm just gonna put you two in a room and let you wrestle it out.�

       �No problem at this end,� Spike muttered, reaching for his pack of cigarettes. It proved to be empty. Angrily, he balled it up and threw it away.

       Buffy mused, �There could maybe be oil of some kind involved.�

       �Where�s the trinket?� Spike asked abruptly.

       Contemplating a vision of Angel and Spike, naked to the waist and glistening with oil, locked together in a wrestling clinch, she didn�t follow. �The who-ket?�

       �The pretty necklace your sweetie-bear gave you. The one with all the power. I believe it's mine now.� He held out his hand.

       �How do you figure?� she asked, taking the amulet out of her pocket.

       �You need someone with a soul, but more powerful than a human,� he reminded her. �Angel meant to wear it, that means I'm the qualified party now he�s scarpered back to La-La Land.�

       Buffy eyed him soberly. �It�s volatile,� she warned him. �We don�t know - �

       Spike interrupted, �You need someone strong to bear it, then. Or were you planning on giving it to Andrew?� He lifted a sardonic eyebrow.

       �Angel said it was meant to be worn by a champion,� she said slowly, thinking hard. Spike�s face fell; his hand dropped to his side, and he looked away. Buffy hesitated, but knew he was right. With Angel a hundred miles away and therefore out of the running, and with the ensouled-but-more-than-human restriction, there was no other possible candidate.

       She held it out to him. He looked from the amulet to her face, as if doubting the evidence of his eyes. Then, slowly, he took it from her. �Been called a lot of things in my time, but - � He turned the amulet over, examining it. His eyes got a faraway look. �This is powerful.�

       She put her hand on his arm. �I want you to be careful.�

       �Talking to the wrong guy, luv,� he said absently, still engrossed with the amulet. �Speaking of careful types, did I mention you�ve got Angel-breath?�

       �I�m serious, Spike. This thing is probably dangerous.�

       He glanced up then. �And you don�t want anything bad to happen to me, is that it?�

       �Of course I don�t.�

       �Why not?�

       �What?� Surely he was joking. He must be.

       He regarded her with that clear-eyed, transparent gaze that seemed to see down to her soul and demanded complete honesty in return. �It would make your life a lot easier, wouldn�t it - if I was out of it permanently? No more �torn between two lovers� twaddle. You could go back to your honey-pup without any of that bothersome guilt on your conscience.�

       �I�m not torn - � Buffy stopped.

       Spike smiled crookedly. �I know. You�ve been painfully clear about that.�

       �Spike - � Too many words were clogging her throat, as well as the guilt he�d mentioned. Reaching out, Buffy cupped his cheek and said the only thing she could honestly tell him, the same thing she�d told Angel: �You�re in my heart.�

       His eyes turned quizzical. Slowly, giving her every chance to draw back, he leaned forward. As their lips met, Buffy closed her eyes, bracing herself. But instead of the unsettling memory she was expecting, a flashback to the time when his unsouled self had tried to rape her, there came only tenderness - and longing. His emotions, not hers, and they came through strong and clear, bringing a prickle of tears to her eyes. His hands lifted to frame her face, and the kiss began to deepen. Gently but firmly, Buffy pulled away.

       After a moment, Spike said, quietly, �Not much like the way you kissed him, is it?�

       She couldn�t deny it, but for his sake tried to downplay it. �That was . . . hello. I was surprised.�

       �Most people don�t use their tongues to say hello,� he responded drily, then paused. �Or, I guess they do, but - �

       �There was no tongues,� she told him, lying through her teeth, then frowned. �Were no tongues? Was no tongue?�

       Brushing aside her ruminations on grammatical accuracy, Spike snorted. �Please, luv! You�re forgetting I was there, saw the whole big reunion scene, and it wasn�t exactly rated PG. There was not only tongues, there were hands. In fact, I was surprised you two didn�t go at it right there on the floor.�

       Flushing, she moved away. �It doesn�t matter. Angel�s gone now, and being together isn�t in the immediate picture for us - even assuming I survive this apocalypse.�

       �Because of the happiness thing.�

       �Right,� she said flatly, deciding to leave cookie dough out of this conversation entirely. �Happiness and Angel equals Angelus. So, togetherness not an option.�

       Spike seemed about to pursue the topic, but apparently changed his mind. He looked down at the amulet, still in his hand. �Well, sun�ll be up soon. Unless there�s something else you can tell me about this doodad - �

       Buffy shook her head, and he went on, �Then I believe I�ll try to get some shuteye.�

       �Don�t get too comfy,� she told him. �I�m calling a meeting at eight.�

       �A meeting. What about?� He looked at her searchingly. �You�ve got a plan.�

       Buffy nodded, smiling with satisfaction. �I have.�

       "Buffy!"

       Spitting vampire dust out of her mouth, Buffy searched the cavern for the owner of the voice. It took only a moment to find him, spotlighted as he was by the bright sunlight streaming in from the open Seal, under which he was standing. Eyes widening, she gasped. Why wasn't he in flames, or at least smoking? Equally strange was the fact that not only was the amulet glowing - so was he. "Spike!"

       Just then a brilliant, scintillating light burst forth from the amulet, so bright it made her squint. The dazzling rays swept around the room, destroying the ubervamps where they stood. In a matter of seconds there was not a vamp to be seen anywhere around. Buffy's jaw dropped, followed by those of the new Slayers around her, as they all gaped at the suddenly empty cavern. Spike was only an indistinct figure in the midst of the brilliance.

       All at once there came a rumble, followed by a loud, hollow, groaning sound. And then the ground shook beneath their feet, and stones came tumbling down from overhead. Buffy heard a loud crack! and one stone wall split down the middle. More stones and dust rained down on them.

       "Everybody out!" shouted Faith, sprinting for the stairs. "Now!" The other Slayers dashed after her.

       Buffy raced toward Spike. His attitude was strangely rigid, with his hands splayed out as if he were transfixed in place, and she realized with a shock that the amulet was only magnifying and dispersing the deadly rays. The source of the light was actually Spike himself.

       "I can feel it, Buffy," he said in an awed tone.

       "What?"

       "My soul. It's really there." His eyes turned thoughtful. "Kinda stings." More stones crashed around them. "Go on, luv," he told her. "Get out of here."

       "You've done enough," she insisted anxiously, flinching as a piece of falling debris landed only a few feet away from them. "You can still - "

       "No." He cut her off almost absently, his focus turned inward. "You beat 'em back, it's for me to do the cleanup."

       "Buffy!" Faith yelled from the stairs, gesturing vehemently. "Come on!"

       "Gotta move, lamb. I think it's fair to say school's out for the bloody summer." Was that actually a twinkle in his eye?

       "Spike - " Buffy choked up, finally realizing his intention.

       "I mean it," he said. "I gotta do this."

       Even as she watched, his skin grew almost transparent as the light within him intensified. Reaching out, she threaded her fingers through his and clasped his hand. Surprised by the gesture, Spike looked at her. Moisture gathered in her eyes. At least she could give him one final gift. "I love you." Flames engulfed their hands, but strangely there was no pain.

       His eyes also grew wet. "No, you don't," he said gently, with a little smile, "but thank you for saying it." The ground rocked beneath their feet. Buffy staggered for balance and Spike let go of her hand, almost shoving her away. "It's your world up there. Now go!"

       She gave him one last tearful look, then bolted for safety. Behind her Spike said, "I want to see how it ends." As she scrambled up the stairs the sound of his laughter followed her, quickly drowned out by the cacophony of the Hellmouth being destroyed.

       Buffy raced through the school's corridors, dodging the obstacle course of both falling items and those already fallen. She reached an exit only to find it completely blocked. The stairs were her only other option, so she took them. Bare seconds after she dashed through the door at the top of the staircase, something inside the school exploded.

       She sprinted across the rooftop, smoke and ashes billowing around her. A glance over her shoulder revealed a chaos of collapsing buildings close on her heels. A block ahead of her, she spied the yellow school bus that had been their transport to the school speeding away. Gritting her teeth, she ran faster, barely keeping ahead of the destruction, desperately leaping over the gaps between buildings.

       "Buffy! Down here!"

       She glanced toward the ground and saw a black limo driving along the street. To her astonishment, Angel's torso protruded from an opening in the top, Wesley was leaning out a window, and both were gesturing for her to jump down. Angel ducked out of sight for a moment, then reappeared as the limo veered off to the right, bumped over the curb and onto the grass, and continued keeping pace with her, only much closer now.

       Buffy spotted a large tree just ahead on her left. She leaped into its leafy foliage, grabbing wildly at anything within reach, managing to catch hold of a thick limb just as her feet slipped out from under her. For a moment she swung by her hands, then the limo pulled up beneath her and she let go, landing heavily on the roof of the car. Angel grabbed her arm.

       "Go!" he shouted to whoever was driving. Engine roaring, the car lurched forward, fishtailing on the slippery grass. Buffy slid over the highly polished surface, but Angel had a good grip on both arms now, and only her legs went over the side. Her feet scrabbled for a second before finding the bottom of the window frame. That tiny bit of support held enough of her weight that she was able to push off with her toes and help Angel haul her inside.

       He caught her shoulders as she slid headfirst through the opening, and someone else grabbed her legs, easing her feet down to the thickly carpeted floor. Breathless, Buffy sank back into a leather-upholstered seat and looked around. Angel, Wesley, a slender young woman with an eager, friendly face and long brown hair, and - she blinked - a horned demon with green skin and red eyes, wearing an unfortunate purple suit. Fred and Lorne, she assumed. Glancing into the front seat, she saw a dark-skinned young man at the steering wheel. Given his youth, his bald head must be from choice rather than necessity, and he probably answered to the name of Gunn.

       "What's this?" Angel exclaimed anxiously, touching the bloody slit in her shirt where the spear had pierced her. "Are you all right?"

       She turned her attention back, ignoring both his question and the burning pain of her wound. "What the hell are you doing here!" she demanded.

       He arched an eyebrow. "She's fine," he told the others. Fred looked unconvinced. An amused smile quirked Wesley's lips, and Lorne just raised his martini glass in a salute.

       Buffy persisted, "You're supposed to be preparing a second front in L.A."

       Angel shook his head. "A second front, yes, but not in L.A. If you'd failed, we needed to be here, not a hundred miles away."

       Wesley chimed in, "That way the First wouldn't have time to spread Its forces out, which would make it considerably more difficult to overcome them. We were deployed a block away from the high school."

       Buffy opened her mouth, then closed it again. "You're right," she admitted after a moment. "I hadn't thought of that."

       "But hey," smiled Lorne, "it's a moot point now, right? I mean, the Big Bad is history." His smile faded. "Er, it is, isn't it?"

       "For now at least," Buffy confirmed. "Its army is destroyed."

       "Even the First will need time to regroup after such a massive loss," added Angel. "Decades, if not centuries."

       Only then did Buffy realize something. "Hey! How come you're not charcoal?" The windows of the limo were heavily tinted, which would provide protection, but he'd been in the direct sunlight while rescu - while helping her escape.

       Angel held up his hand, displaying a massive gold ring with a large black stone in its center. "Protection spell, " he told her. "Like the Gem of Amara, but only good for twelve hours."

       "Hey!" called Gunn. "The school bus is stopping."

       "Pull up," ordered Buffy. Gunn glanced over his shoulder at Angel, who nodded. The limo rolled to a stop behind the bus. Buffy scrambled out just as Dawn pushed open the bus's Emergency Exit door and jumped down to the ground. The sisters embraced fervently.

       "Are you okay?" Buffy demanded, pushing Dawn away to look at her.

       "I'm good," Dawn assured her with a big smile. Buffy looked past her to the battered survivors emerging from the bus, and a knot of dread formed in her stomach. "Who - ?" She couldn't finish.

       Dawn understood; her smile dimmed. "All the Scoobies made it except for Anya."

       Only Anya? Oh God. Anya. Buffy closed her eyes in mingled relief and sorrow, then turned to look behind her. The town of Sunnydale was simply . . . gone . . . replaced by an enormous sinkhole in the ground. It reminded Buffy of a trip her family had taken when she was younger, to Meteor Crater in Arizona. Except that was old and dead, and this was fresh and . . . well . . . still dying, with rumbles and groans as the ground continued to settle, and dust and smoke rising in huge billowing gusts to hang above the site in a murky canopy.

       "Oh my God," breathed Fred, wide-eyed.

       �I don't understand. What did this?" asked Giles, standing next to her and surveying the destruction. A shaky Willow, supported by Kennedy, came up alongside them, joined by Wesley and Gunn.

       Buffy felt a renewed surge of grief. "Spike."

       Angel appeared at her side. One by one the survivors who were able to walk were gathering around to gaze in awe.

       "Spike?" Giles turned around. "What do you mean?" Faith joined the group, the last one out of the bus.

       "He used the amulet to destroy the Hellmouth." Buffy thought that over for a second. "Actually, I think it was the other way around. It looked like the amulet used his energy to open a hole through the Seal all the way up to the sky, then channeled the sunlight through Spike and magnified it about a zillion times. When the light hit them the vamps just . . . disintegrated. I mean, there weren't even ashes left behind . . . and then the Hellmouth started to fall apart."

       "What happened to Spike?" asked Dawn, looking subdued, as if she already knew the answer.

       "He stayed - said he had to finish the cleanup." A tear rolled down Buffy's cheek; she wiped it away. Angel's hand clasped hers briefly, offering unspoken comfort. Dawn bit her lip.

       "I misjudged him," Giles acknowledged. "You were right all along, Buffy, and I was wrong."

       Buffy accepted his apology with a nod. A creaking sound suddenly drew everyone's attention. Down the road, the "Welcome To Sunnydale" sign swayed on its pole, then toppled with a metallic clatter into the gaping pit.

       Faith observed, "Looks like the Hellmouth is officially closed for business."

       "There's another one in Cleveland," Giles said, then when everyone glared at him, mumbled apologetically, "Not to spoil the moment."

       "We saved the world," came Xander's contribution. "Again."

       "We changed the world," Willow corrected, in a wondering tone. As Buffy turned to her, she said, wide-eyed, "I can feel them, Buffy . . . all over. There are Slayers awakening everywhere." She smiled at Kennedy, who squeezed her arm.

       "We'll have to find them," suggested Dawn. "We will," said Willow confidently.

       "Yes, because the mall was actually in Sunnydale, so there's no hope of going there tomorrow," Giles commented, rather caustically, referring to the Scoobies' pretend plans of going shopping after fighting the First.

       "We destroyed the mall?" Dawn demanded in an appalled voice, then shook her head. "I chose the wrong side."

       Xander quipped, "All those stores gone - the Gap, Starbucks, Toys R Us. Who will remember these landmarks unless we tell the world of them?"        Surprised by his facetiousness, Buffy glanced at him with concern. Was it was possible that he didn't know about Anya? But one look at his face told her he did. Xander was doing the same thing they all were, pushing away the reality of their losses until later, when they could grieve properly. Amanda's face flashed through her mind, dead eyes startled and staring into hers. She pushed the memory away. Later.

       "We have a great deal of work ahead of us," remarked Giles.

       Faith grabbed his arm threateningly. "Can I push him in?" she pleaded with Buffy. Willow raised a feeble hand. "You've got my vote."

       "I just wanna sleep for like a week!" declared Faith, punching Giles lightly on the shoulder.

       "Why don't you then?" suggested Wesley, speaking for the first time. "No reason you can't, now."

       "I guess we could," mused Dawn, somewhat startled. "If we wanted to."

       Willow said, "Yeah, the First is scrunched, so . . . what do you think we should do, Buffy?"

       "Yeah, B," said Faith, only half-joking. "You're not the one and only Chosen anymore. You just gotta live like a person now." Then she frowned. "Come to think of it, so do I."

       "How does that feel?" asked Fred curiously. "Now that you're not the only one - I mean, two - you should be able to have normal lives. Well, more normal, anyway. I mean, you could even take time off, go on vacation."

       Faith's face cleared. "Yeah! Cancun, here I come!"

       Giles sighed. "While I sympathize with your feelings - in fact, believe it or not, I share them - I'm afraid this talk of vacations is premature. It's absolutely essential that we find the new Slayers and explain what's happened to them, before irreparable damage is done. Then we need to figure out how to train them all." He frowned worriedly.

       Glancing hesitantly at Buffy, Angel said, "Well, I have just the place for you to stay while you're figuring."

       "The Hyperion. Of course," said Gunn. His broad smile was echoed by Wesley and Fred.

       "What's the Hyperion?" Kennedy wanted to know.

       "It's my place," Angel told her. "The Hyperion Hotel. Plenty of rooms for everyone." Buffy still hadn't responded, so he added, even more tentatively, looking at her, "Only if you want to, of course."

       "Okay. Now who are you?" Kennedy asked. "All of you." Her curious gaze swept the Los Angeles contingent.

       "Sorry. This is Angel," Buffy said. "He's . . . an old friend."

       "An extremely old friend," Xander contributed, in a very innocent voice.

       Buffy sent him a quelling glance; Willow, an exasperated one. "And that's Gunn, that's Wesley, and Fred is over here." Buffy indicated each one as she spoke. "They work for Angel, and they were our backup."

       Kennedy, along with the Slayers who had been in Sunnydale the longest, examined Angel with interest. "So you're Angel," she said. "I've heard a lot about you." Without giving him a chance to respond, she went on, "How come you're outside in the daylight without becoming toast?"

       "Toast?" a new Slayer asked. She'd arrived only two days before the big battle, and apparently hadn't had time to catch up on the gossip.

       "He's a vampire," Vi explained to her. "But he has a soul, and he and Buffy are an item. Or were, once upon a time." The young girl, who couldn't have been more than fourteen, looked more confused than appalled. "Oh," she said faintly.

       "What is it with her and bloodsuckers?" Rona muttered under her breath.

       "Protection spell," Angel told Kennedy, answering her question. She nodded, saying, "Well, a hotel sounds great to me. I can't wait to take a hot shower."

       "Me too," sighed Willow. "And then fall into a bed and sleep."

       Dawn said, "Buffy? What do you want to do?"

       Buffy looked at Angel for a moment. "I think," she said softly, "that I want to learn how to bake cookies." A slow smile spread over her face. Everyone stared askance at her, except Angel who returned her smile with a radiant one of his own.

       "Um, Buff?" Xander said, "I know I speak for everyone when I say, 'Huh?' "

       "We're going to the Hyperion," Buffy told them. With one final look at the site of her former home, she turned. As she walked away, she slipped her hand into Angel's.

       Buffy gazed around the conference room at the Hyperion. Faces were somber, reflecting the general mood. Each person there held a slender white candle. One week ago they'd all been preparing to assault the Hellmouth. One week ago there would have been a lot more faces in this circle.

       One week ago, she and Dawn still had a home.

       Giles spoke, heavily. "The Hellmouth is closed and the First Evil vanquished, at least for the time being. We won this battle, but not without great cost. We have gathered here tonight to honor our dead, those who gave their lives to help save the world. Young girls - "

       Here Xander raised his head as if to speak, but Giles forestalled him with a look, continuing, " - most of them, yanked from their secure lives, chosen for a destiny few, if any, knew even existed."

       Buffy and Faith exchanged wry glances, silent acknowledgment of their own initiation into the destiny of the Slayer.

       Giles paused. "But we are also here for another reason. Sunnydale is gone - destroyed - and with it, much that we held dear. Not only have we lost friends and colleagues, some of us have also lost our homes and all our possessions. Although we can buy new clothes, find another place to live, get a new job, some things cannot be replaced. No longer can we visit the graves of our loved ones . . . the photographs and other mementos we once cherished are no more."

       Dawn gave an audible sniff, tears filling her eyes. The reality had hit her hard once they'd reached the safety of the Hyperion and the battle-induced adrenaline had drained away. Buffy put an arm around her sister, feeling a little guilty. On the ride to Los Angeles Angel had presented her with a surprise: Mr. Gordo. Acting on a sudden impulse, he'd made a whirlwind detour on his way to the high school and grabbed the stuffed pig from her bedroom. He'd also snatched one family photograph, but the boxes of photo albums that Dawn had taken from their mother's bedroom when Willow and Tara began living there were now lost in the enormous sinkhole that used to be Sunnydale.

       Giles continued, "But although the more tangible evidence of their existence may be gone, they live on in our memories and our hearts. We will never forget them."

       Angel, Fred, Gunn, and Wesley stood a short distance away - silent observers. Although not able to participate in the ceremony, they wanted to show their respect for the fallen as well as their sympathy for the Sunnydale survivors. Buffy glanced at Angel, saw the shadow in his face, and thought about the stunning revelation he'd shared with her a few days ago.

       Giles murmured a word and his candle flared. "Jenny," he said softly, then turned to Willow, on his left. She touched her candle to Giles's, lighting it.

       "Tara," she said clearly. Her eyes glistened with moisture as she turned to the young woman beside her.

       "Molly," Kennedy said when her candle was lit. She turned.

       "Amanda," said Chloe, and turned.

       "Jonathan." Andrew turned.

       "Anya," murmured Xander, his voice tight. "And Jesse."

       "Solange."

       "Ming Lo."

       "Lucia."

       "Ki'Lara."

       "Zoe."

       "Esperanza."

       And so, one by one, flames sprang to life around the circle, each person uttering a name and lighting a candle in remembrance.

       "Mom," whispered Dawn with quivering lips, the candle flame reflected in her brimming eyes. Then it was Buffy's turn. Touching her candle to Dawn's, she spoke the final name.

       "Spike."

       The circle broke, and the participants walked toward a table set against one wall. Ceremoniously, they placed their candles in the candelabra specially bought for that purpose. Giles was the last one up. He affixed his candle, then stepped back.

       "Rest in peace," he said. There was a moment of silence, then slowly the group began dispersing. A few of the girls quietly left the room.

       Angel went up to Buffy and Dawn. "You two go to bed. I'll stay here until the candles die down - see that nothing catches on fire."

       "Are you sure?" Buffy asked.

       He smiled at her. "You're both tired. Go on."

       Buffy smiled wearily up at him. "Thanks." They kissed, then Buffy led her sister out. The others straggled after them. Angel waited a couple of minutes after the door had closed behind the last person, making sure he was alone, before taking a candle from his pocket. Reaching out, he lit it from the one he'd watched Buffy place there, and set it in the holder.

       "Connor," he said softly. Someone came up behind him; a soft hand slipped into his. He didn't need to look to know who it was. "How did you know?" he murmured, the warmth of her presence easing his aching heart.

       "He was your son," Buffy replied simply, as if that were answer enough.

       Which, he acknowledged silently, it was. Together they watched the flickering lights. When the last candle had guttered out, they turned and left.

THE END