"This isn't happening," Buffy muttered softly, staring at some point in the distance. "This is just a really bad dream, and I'm going to wake up from it really, really soon." The memory of the bite marks on Cordelia's neck flashed into Buffy's mind once again, and she shivered at the realization. The Chosen One, Angel's wife, must have fed off Cordelia to restore her energy. Buffy glanced up at Angel, suddenly realizing the explanation for his own shock. She knew he was blaming himself, and she swore to herself that she would comfort him. But not now. She didn't have the strength now.
"Buffy?" Giles' soft voice brought her out of her state of shock and she lifted her tear-stained face towards his.
"What?" she asked weakly.
"I think you should go home," he told her. "There's nothing you can do here. There's nothing anyone can do here."
Buffy shuddered but made no move towards standing. "This isn't possible, Giles," she mumbled softly, wiping at her eyes. "It can't . . . this isn't supposed to happen! They're not supposed to win, Giles . . . she shouldn't have won . . . "
"Who shouldn't have won?" Giles asked, leaning down next to her.
It was Angel who replied, however. "The Chosen One," he whispered softly. "My wife." Giles stood abruptly and turned to face Angel, who was still less than a step behind Buffy.
"Your wife?" he echoed, staring at him and looking for an explanation.
Angel nodded weakly. "Buffy would have won, too," he said. "She would have won, but I . . . I didn't know . . . and when I saw who it was, I couldn't . . . " He stopped and swallowed, fighting to get control of his emotions as he turned away from the watcher and instead fixed his eyes on the police cars leaving the scene. Willow forced herself to her feet a few steps away from Giles, Angel, and Buffy.
"This is all my fault," she whispered. "If I hadn't told Xander we wouldn't have . . . and she wouldn't have seen . . . "
They all turned to her then, but no one was quite capable of showing much sympathy towards her. Guilt was abounding tonight, and Giles alone remained untouched by it's searing pain.
"Willow," he said gently, "I think you should go home, as well." Willow sniffed and trembled slightly, hanging on to the railing for dear life.
"I don't want to go home," she whispered. "If I go home I won't wake up, and I'll know it wasn't just a dream." Buffy looked at her and sighed softly to herself, her feelings were far to similar to Buffy's own.
"I don't believe this," she muttered again. "This isn't fair!"
"Buffy . . . " Giles turned back towards her, then glanced towards the still silent Xander. He was staring straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the coroner's van that had just taken Cordelia's body away. He had not said a word since they'd found Cordelia's body, less than twenty minutes ago. Giles sighed that time, knowing that the job of comforting the teenagers was up to him. He glanced towards Angel almost out of reflex, and saw that the glazed look had not left the vampire's eyes, and he sighed again. Correction -- the job of comforting the teenagers and the two hundred and forty two year old was up to him. No one else was up to it.
"Xander?" Giles asked. The teenager turned towards him questioningly.
"What?" he asked weakly, obviously not feeling up to talking.
"Do you want me to call your parents? Get them to pick you up?"
Xander shook his head. "I'm not leaving," he said softly, turning his attention back towards the street and the fading sounds of the siren. Giles opened his mouth and then closed it again, unsure of what he could say. Somehow he didn't think anything he might think of would be of comfort. Instead of saying anything he chose to remain silent, turning his own thoughts inward as he stayed through the night by their side.
Buffy tightened her grip on Xander's hand as they sat next to each other at Cordelia's funeral. Willow was beside Buffy, uncomfortable being so close to Xander after their last conversation which had, in their mind, led to Cordelia's death. Cordelia's clique was sitting not far from them, and to Buffy's immense surprise even Harmony had been crying at the loss of her friend. It seemed obvious to Buffy now that Cordelia had meant much more to the school, to the Slayerette's, to everyone, then they had ever imagined. Somehow the school seemed darker without her silly remarks to teacher's questions, her dark attitude towards those she did not feel were part of her social circle, and most of all, the school seemed darker without her inner kindness and compassion, parts of herself she'd kept hidden from everyone but the Slayer and her friends. Two days had passed since the fateful night when Buffy had fought Angel's wife, since the Chosen had retaliated and restored her energy by feeding off the young teenager. To Buffy it felt like a lifetime between those events and the funeral, as though time had dragged to a grinding and torturous halt. Giles sat a few rows behind them, along with the rest of the teachers from the High School. Only Snyder was not present, and Buffy didn't have to wonder why. Their cold and unfeeling principal was more likely than not thrilled that he had one less teenager causing trouble. One row ahead of them was Cordelia's family. Her older brother sat next to her younger sister and her parents, all of them sharing similar despondent expressions. Buffy felt envy towards them, at least they didn't have to live with the guilt of having caused Cordy's death. She wiped at her eyes, realizing she had started crying again, and sniffed, trying to push the tears away. She couldn't afford to let this effect her as much as it was, she still had to deal with the Chosen; then she could grieve. Unfortunately her sorrow wasn't paying much attention to her rational mind.
It took a moment for her to realize that the crowd of people were rising, and that the service was over. Shakily Buffy rose to her feet and helped Willow up as well. It was so hard having no one to lean on, but she knew that everyone was suffering, and therefore there wasn't a single one of her friends capable of giving comfort. With a deep sigh Buffy took one last look at the coffin and the lovely teenager lying in it, her radiance shining through even in death, before walking outside and away from the memories.
Angel paced back and forth in his small apartment, glanced towards the clock, and then resumed his pacing. His thoughts were scattered and unconnected as memories of his wife ran through his mind, the grief as fresh as it had been the night he'd had his soul restored. Some of his thoughts centered on Cordelia as well, he'd never liked her overly, in truth he hadn't cared much for her one way or the other, but he'd certainly never wished her any harm. The knowledge that her death was entirely his fault weighed on his conscience heavily, and he wished he had that night to do over again, he would not have hesitated in handing Buffy the stake with which she needed to kill the Chosen . . . if only it had been anyone but Maura. He felt no love towards her as she was now. He knew better than to believe for a second that she was still the same woman he'd loved two centuries before. Yet the thought of being the one to cause her death was not pleasant, either. Angel realized that the only way Buffy could defeat her was with his help . . . alone Buffy didn't stand a chance. At the same time he couldn't imagine being the one to drive the stake through her heart. Angel shivered slightly as more memories flashed through his mind, Maura dressed in the traditional clothes of Ireland two hundred years before, her long black hair flowing down her back as she welcomed him back and eagerly told him to come in, that dinner was waiting, a dinner with which she'd prepared specially for his return. She'd wondered why he had a woman with short blond hair wearing a lovely dress with him, but he'd explained her away as a cousin. The pair had just returned from slaughtering his other family, his two sisters and brother, his mother and his father. Angel had reveled in the betrayal in their eyes, the shock as they stared up into the crazed eyes of a loved one. He'd wanted more, he'd wanted to see that look again . . . and so he had, in the eyes of his wife as he'd sunk his fangs into her lovely neck. A knock on his door startled him out of his thoughts and he jumped slightly in surprise before walking towards it and opening the door. Outside stood Buffy, her arms nervously wrapped around herself as she looked up at him. "I . . . Giles told me you'd moved back into your old apartment," Buffy started, casting her eyes downward. "Cordelia's funeral . . . it's over, now, and . . . I just . . . I needed to . . . " She stopped and looked back up at him again, her eyes pleading with his. Angel stepped back and motioned for her to come inside, which she did. Her eyes fixed on the bed in the corner for a moment, remembering their night of passion and it's aftermath, then she forced herself to look away.
"Are you okay?" Angel asked her.
Buffy shook her head weakly. "I'm not okay," she mumbled softly, almost to herself. "I'm far, far away from being okay." Angel did the only thing he knew how to, he wrapped his arms around her and let her cry on his shoulder for the second time that week. She shuddered against him, wrapping her own arms around his neck and leaning her head against his shoulder, needing to get all the tears out of her system. Angel let her, stroking her hair gently. Several minutes passed that way before Buffy finally pulled back. "I keep crying on you," she muttered sheepishly, laughing slightly to clear away the tension.
"I don't mind," Angel replied gently, motioning for her to sit. She obeyed him, curling her legs up next to her and wrapping her arms around them.
"I'm sorry to bother you," Buffy started, "but I needed to see you. I just . . . Angel, I don't know how to fight her. I'm not strong enough right now, I . . . God, Cordelia's dead, everything's falling apart, you hate me . . . I just don't have it in me."
"I don't hate you," Angel corrected her, sounding slightly tired of telling her that. She looked up at him, her eyes still sparkling with unshed tears.
"But I do," she whispered. "I hate what I've become . . . and I hate how weak I am. I hate that because of what I did . . . because of who I am . . . Cordelia's dead."
"That's not true. Cordelia's death had absolutely nothing to do with you."
Buffy sighed. "Angel, it's not your fault. It's mine. It's because of my weakness, because of my state of mind, because I'm the Slayer, that all this has happened. It's because of who I am that Cordy died," she said again.
"No," Angel said sternly. "That's not true, and you know it. If I had just given you that stake Maura would have died than and there, and she wouldn't have been able to kill Cordelia. This is my fault, Buffy, and I won't let you blame yourself for it."
"That's totally untrue. Cordelia is dead because I'm weak. The Chosen sensed that, that's why she attacked when I did. It's certainly not your fault that you couldn't kill your wife, Angel. But it is mine, I should have been able to kill her without your help. God, Cordy never should have even known I was the Slayer! If I had done my duty and kept my identity a secret she wouldn't have been at the school and she never would have . . . " Buffy trailed off and wiped at her eyes again.
"And what if she hadn't known?" Angel asked. "She would have died before when that girl . . . that Invisible girl . . . was after her. She lived because you protected her. Don't forget that."
"Tell me about her?" Buffy asked suddenly, looking up at Angel. "Tell me about your wife. Please?" Angel blinked, slightly surprised by the sudden shift in conversation, then shifted on the couch uncomfortably.
"There's not much to tell," he muttered.
"What was she like?" Buffy wondered. "Please, Angel, I need to get my mind off of Cordelia, and I need to concentrate on the Chosen One. Anything you could tell me might help." Angel had to fight not to tell Buffy that he himself needed to get his mind off of Maura. However he motioned towards her hand, silently requesting that he give it to her. Obediently Buffy lifted her hand towards his, and he took it in his own and fingered the ring he'd given her before he'd almost left town.
"This was her's," he said softly. Buffy's eyes widened and she immediately looked up at him again.
"Hers?" she asked, blinking.
Angel nodded. "After I . . . after I killed her I took it . . . I don't know why, exactly. Maybe to remember the fun I had slaughtering her and the rest of my family. Something to look back on," he added dryly. "This . . . it was her wedding ring."
"And you gave it to me?" Buffy queried, sounding puzzled. Angel cleared his throat uncomfortably. After all that had gone on since he'd given her the ring to this moment, sitting on his couch in his apartment, he felt slightly uncomfortable discussing this with her. However he knew it would help her to hear it, and that alone was enough for him.
"When I had my run in with the Romani, so to speak, I thought that I could never love anyone again. How could I be? I'd murdered the people who'd loved me the most . . . I didn't deserve it. But you . . . Buffy, you remind me so much of her in so many ways. You . . . you mean everything to me. That's why I'm not angry at you, that's why I don't hate you . . . I can't. I . . . I love you to much. That's why I gave you that, I thought I'd never see you again, and I wanted you to have it, as the only symbol left of my love towards her." Buffy leaned against Angel, laying her head down against his chest and wrapping her arm around his waist.
"Angel, I know I've said this before, but . . . you have to know how sorry I am."
Angel sighed and rested his head against hers. "I do, Buffy. I do."
"Did you know Ms. Chase very well?" Mrs. Fleming asked, staring at Xander with wide and concerned eyes. Xander sighed, wishing that Principal Snyder and Principal Flutie didn't have that one thing in common -- a love for sending children to the psychiatrist when something traumatic had passed.
"Not very," Xander replied softly.
"You seem as though you knew her very well," Mrs. Fleming commented, sounding somewhat skeptical. "I know you don't believe me, but it may help you to talk about it some. And I promise nothing you say here will leave this room." Xander rolled his eyes heavenwards, wondering what the school shrink would think of the honest truth, that Cordy had been killed by a vampire sent to kill Buffy � and that while he and Willow had been looking up info on said vampire Willow had admitted she was in love with him, and that if it hadn't been for that Cordelia would never have ran from the school, and she never would have run into the Chosen One, who just happened to be Buffy's boyfriend's wife.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know her that well," Xander said instead.
"Look, I can't force you to talk to me, but I think you do need to talk to someone. It's not healthy to keep your emotions bottled up inside, you know." Xander suddenly had the urge to jump across the desk and strangle the shrink with his bare hands, and he bit his lip hard in an effort to repress the fury rising inside of him.
"Can I go now?" he asked tightly. Mrs. Fleming's sighed, as though accepting that Xander would not open up to her, and nodded.
"All right, Mr. Harris," she said softly. "But I'm afraid until you do talk about whatever it is that's bothering you so deeply I will have to request that Principal Snyder continue with these weekly sessions of ours."
"Whatever," Xander answered, already halfway out the doors. He walked down the hallway blindly, not caring where he was going, and walked straight into Willow as she left her English class. The two of them stopped dead in their tracks and stared at each other for a long moment. "Willow," Xander finally said, his voice clipped.
"Xander," Willow replied, nodding slightly and swallowing against the lump in her throat. She turned to go, and Xander did the same, both continuing in their separate directions.
"Buffy? Buffy? Come on, wake up." Buffy yawned and buried her face against the couch cushion. "Just a few more minutes?" she begged sleepily.
"It's three in the morning, Buffy. You need to go home before your mother starts to worry," Angel said gently. Buffy sat up on the couch and blinked, then turned and realized that she'd fallen asleep at Angel's apartment, most likely due to emotional exhaustion.
"I don't want to," she muttered, yawning again.
"You have to," Angel told her gently. "Come on," he added, offering her a hand in standing. "I'll walk you home." Buffy looked at him weakly.
"What if she attacks me tonight?" she queried, sounding scared. "I'm not strong enough to fight her . . . not now."
"If she does I'll take care of it," Angel reassured her. "Come on," he said again.
"Wait . . . " Buffy's eyes widened and she stared at Angel as his words from before sank in. "It's three? As in three a.m.?"
Angel nodded. "I called Giles and asked him to call your mother and tell her that you fell asleep at the library, but it's time for you to go home."
"You called Giles?" Buffy mumbled.
"He's researching why Darla would have brought Maura across and not have told me," Angel explained. "We need to go." Buffy sighed weakly and leaned against Angel for support, blinking back waves of dizziness.
"I think I'm getting sick," she said softly, looking up at him. "This really isn't good if I am," she added. "Of course I bet that's a strategy no other slayer's tried . . . just hiding out in my house and waiting for the chosen to go away." Angel walked her towards the door and looked at her worriedly, noticing the extreme problem she was having with walking.
"I think you are getting sick," he confirmed.
"Great." Buffy closed her eyes for a moment against another wave of nausea. "Cordy's dead, you're wife's trying to kill me, and I'm sick. Could this week get any worse?"
"Don't say things like that," Angel warned her. "Because invariably they always do."
"I know," Buffy agreed. "But things are already mighty bad . . . I'm not sure what could possibly happen to put me in an even worse mood than I already am in."
"You could die," Angel pointed out, still sounding concerned.
"Yeah," she muttered. "Yeah, there's that." She clutched at his arm as the world spun in circles once more, and Angel lifted her up into his arms and began to make his way towards her house.
Angel deposited Buffy on her doorstep and looked at her with growing concern. "Are you sure you can make it in okay?" he asked her.
"Oh, sure I'm fine," Buffy muttered, still leaning on him heavily. Angel raised an eyebrow at her skeptically before opening the door and helping her inside.
"Let's get you upstairs," he said to her gently, wishing he could feel temperatures so he could see if she had one. Buffy looked as though she wanted to protest, but didn't quite have the strength to.
"Okay," she said finally, allowing him to carry her upstairs and into her bedroom. Angel laid her down on the bed gently and kissed her on the forehead.
"Stay home tomorrow, okay?" he beseeched her. "I don't think you should be going out, you still have to face Maura, you have to be as strong as possible."
"Don't worry about me," she told him firmly. "I'll be fine." Buffy didn't add the 'at least, physically', but she definitely wanted to. Angel sighed but didn't say anything else as he turned to leave. "Angel?" Buffy called, stopping him. He turned back to her. "Sweet dreams," she said softly.
"You to," Angel replied just as softly, as similar memories flashed through their minds. Then Angel was gone, and Buffy sighed softly and turned around, clutching the stuffed pig she had begun sleeping with every night close to her. Within seconds she was asleep.
"Have you seen Buffy?" Giles asked as Willow walked into the library the next morning. The small hacker had dark circles under her eyes, and her clothing was mis-matched at best as she looked up at him. "She called me this morning," Willow answered. "She's not feeling well, and she decided to stay home."
Giles muttered something incomprehensible underneath his breath and headed towards the back and his telephone, then turned back around to look at Willow again. "Willow," he started, "you're not helping anyone by blaming yourself."
Willow closed her eyes for a moment. "Giles . . . you don't know what happened. Cordelia ran from the library because she saw Xander and I kissing."
Giles' eyes widened. "She . . . she did?" he asked, staring at her.
Willow nodded shakily. "Mhmm. I told him that I was in love with him, that he shouldn't be dating her because she was probably just using him . . . this is my fault. If I hadn't told Xander the truth none of this would have ever happened."
Giles walked towards her and lifted her chin up with one hand. "Willow, that's absolutely ridiculous. Cordelia's death was a horrible and tragic event, but it was no one's fault except for the Chosen. It wasn't yours, or Xander's, or Angel's, or Buffy's. Blaming yourself is not going to bring her back, and it's certainly not doing you or anyone else any good."
"You're right," Willow said softly. "But that doesn't change anything. It may not be my fault, but it feels like it's my fault. And Xander . . . God, he's never going to be able to look at me again . . . "
"That's not true, either," Giles said sternly. "You and Xander have been friends for a very long time, yes?" Willow nodded. "I'm sure your friendship will survive this."
"I hope you're right," Willow replied with a thin smile. "I have to go to class." She turned and left the library, and Giles watched her go sadly. In truth he also missed Cordelia, with her flippant remarks and her occasionally brilliant ideas. When she had actually applied herself she'd been a valuable asset to the Slayer, and she'd always been there when she was needed, protests not withstanding, she had been an excellent ally. Her death was tearing everyone apart, ripping at the seams that held the Slayerette's together, and that worried Giles more than anything. No one seemed able to accept that what happened to Cordelia was tragic, but there was no one to blame except for the vampire that had killed her. No one could have possibly known what would happen, but no one seemed able to accept that, either. In short, no one was recovering. With a sigh Giles turned back towards his office and dialed a familiar phone number. He waited several rings before finally someone answered.
"Hello?" a sleepy male voice asked.
"Angel? It's Giles. I believe I might have found something."
"That's nice," Angel muttered. Giles began to launch into a lengthy explanation.
"According to a book on ancient societies the chosen one is a tradition that has been around as long as there have been slayers. Just as there have always been slayers since there were vampires, there has always been the chosen. Although the chosen only comes once in a century, the institution for the chosen was set up long before that. If this book is correct a human is chosen to become the chosen of the vampire's, and therefore Darla probably did not know when she made you a vampire that Maura was the chosen vampire. When she did find out after you had killed her she naturally made her a vampire as well, and immediately she was sent to train. I can't think of any other way to explain it except as a kind of military school for vampires. The training the chosen goes through is extensive and very well-rounded. Darla probably did not tell you about Maura's destiny because she feared you might want to contact her, and that would throw the whole idea of the chosen and her isolation out of the window. The chosen is supposed to have no contact with other vampires except for what the Master dictates." Giles paused, and when there was no reply became puzzled. "Angel? Are you there?"
"What? Uh-huh, yeah, I'm here," Angel replied quickly, still sounding exhausted. Giles smirked in amusement, realizing that the vampire had slept through his description.
"Are you awake enough to actually listen to me, now?" Giles inquired.
"I heard you!" Angel protested.
"Do you want to know why Darla didn't tell you about making Maura a vampire or not?" Giles queried harshly.
"Fine, I'm listening," Angel sighed, and Giles once again began to explain.
Xander sat in class across from Willow and stared at the teacher listlessly, his thoughts far away from the lecture his teacher was going through as his mind flashed back to snatches of conversation between Cordelia and him. "Me? I'm not the one who embraced the black arts just to get the girls to like me. Well, congratulations, it worked!"
"I can't believe that I'm stuck spending what will probably be my last few moments on earth here with you!"
"Please! It's too traumatic for me to even say it!"
"You mean the spell was for me?"
"I bet you wouldn't! I bet you'd let a girl go off to her doom all by herself!"
"I'm gonna what . . . ? Coward!"
"Harmony, shut up. Do you know what you are, Harmony? You're a sheep. . . .You're a sheep! All you ever do is what everyone else does just so you can say you did it first. Here I am scrambling for your approval when I am way cooler than you are cause I'm not a sheep. I do what I wanna do and I wear what I wanna wear and you know what? I'll date whoever the hell I wanna date . . . No matter how lame he Is."
"If we die in here I'm gonna kick your ass, I mean it!"
"Mr. Harris?!" The teacher's annoyed voice snapped Xander out of his thoughts and he looked up in surprise.
"Yeah?" he asked, wondering what he'd missed.
"What is the answer to number five?" the teacher asked again. Xander automatically looked towards Willow, who looked surprised for a moment before she held up four of her fingers.
"Four?" Xander asked hopefully.
Willow shook her head adamantly and the teacher frowned. "Did you do this problem, Mr. Harris?" Xander looked back towards Willow, who then held up eight of her fingers.
"Yes! It's, um, forty-eight?"
The teacher nodded. "Forty eight is correct. How did you arrive at that answer?"
Xander blanched and his eyes widened. "Um . . . uh . . . "
"That's what I thought," the teacher replied coolly. "I would like to speak with you after class, Xander," he said dryly before turning his attention back to the lesson at hand. Xander sighed and put his head in his hands before casting a grateful look towards Willow, then his eyes widened and he immediately turned away as he realized he'd forgotten in the last few minutes about Cordelia's death and what Willow had told him only four nights ago. Swallowing and looking slightly shocked, he closed his eyes for a long moment and tried to push the thoughts from his mind once more.
Buffy moaned softly and turned over on the bed as she felt the beginnings of a pounding headache intrude on her peaceful slumber. A voice resonated in her head, becoming louder with each passing second until it was all she could hear. "Slayer . . . ? Are you there little slayer?" Buffy moaned again and pulled the pillow up over her head, but the action didn't cause the voice to die, if anything it only sounded louder and more intense. "Slayer . . . "
"What!?" Buffy mumbled to herself in agony.
"I'm in your mind . . . I know your thoughts." Buffy suddenly sat upright in bed as she recognized the voice from four nights ago . . . it was Maura, the Chosen One.
"What do you want?" she said aloud, waiting for the reply to echo in her mind.
"I want it finished," the voice replied. "Fight me or another one of your little friends goes."
"You sadistic . . . "
"It's up to you. Either fight me and face the consequences, or accept that the life of another one of your friends is forfeit. You decide."
"When and where?" Buffy asked aloud.
"Tonight, at the park." The voice left her head, leaving Buffy's ears ringing and her headache growing in spades as she shakily stood and walked towards the phone, dialing the library's number. To her immense annoyance she found it was busy and she barely managed to make it down the stairs, clutching the banister for support as she arrived in the kitchen and opened the medicine cabinet, taking out a bottle of aspirin and swallowing one of them with a small sip of water before returning to the phone and dialing again.
"Hello?" Giles' voice answered on the second ring.
"Giles, it's me," Buffy said weakly. "Are you there?"
"Yes, Buffy, what is it?"
Buffy swallowed. "The Chosen . . . she just talked to me . . . Giles, she got inside my head, she was talking to me in my head! You didn't tell me she could do that."
"I . . . I didn't know she could. What - what did she say?"
"It's not important," Buffy answered, not wanting Giles to know that she was going to fight Maura tonight. Somehow she doubted he would approve of it, considering that she was sick, but she knew she had no choice, she couldn't allow anyone else to die, certainly not if she could prevent it. "I just thought you should know." Buffy hung up the phone before Giles could ask any more questions.
"Mr. Harris, I'm afraid that your grades have dropped dramatically in the past week. They weren't all that high to begin with, actually, but as of late they've been more pathetic than normal," Xander's science teacher said to him coolly.
Xander swallowed and shifted slightly. "I - I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'll try to do better."
"I'd appreciate that, Mr. Harris," the teacher said. "I am aware that recent events make one less inclined to concentrate on ones studies, however that is not an excuse for not doing homework, in my opinion. It's not as if you actually knew the girl who died."
Xander's eyes flashed as he stared at the teacher. "I didn't know her?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow.
The science teacher rolled his eyes. "Do you realize how many students have come up to me to tell me how depressed they were over Miss. Chase's death? I'm sorry, but I'm not buying it as an explanation. You do the work you were assigned, and that's that. Are we understood?" Again it took an extreme effort of will for Xander to not hit the man across the face. Instead he nodded meekly and hurried from the room before he gave into temptation. Willow was waiting for him outside.
"We . . . we need to talk, Xander," she said softly.
Xander sighed. "Willow, please," he begged. "Not now."
"Then when?" she asked. "God, Xander, you have to know that I'm so sorry . . . I never wanted this to happen, I . . . "
Xander nodded. "I know, Willow. I do. But I can't deal with this right now. Okay? I need some time."
Willow bit the inside of her lip and nodded hesitantly. "Okay," she said softly, and turned around to walk in the other direction. Xander watched her go and part of him wanted to call out to her, and lean on her strength as he'd always done in the past. Instead he walked away as well.
Giles groaned in frustration as another ten rings passed with still no answer. "Damn it, pick up the phone!" he growled at the receiver, pacing back and forth. With a sigh he hung the phone up violently and picked it up again to dial a different number.
"Giles, go away!" Angel begged as he picked up the phone, not even bothering with a hello.
"This is important," Giles told him firmly. "Buffy's just received a communication from the Chosen telepathically. I fear she may have decided to fight her tonight."
"She can't!" Angel protested, suddenly wide awake. "She's sick . . . she'll never win!"
"I know that," Giles replied sharply. "I can't get through to her, she's not answering her phone. She called to tell me that she'd spoken with Maura, and now she's not picking up the receiver. I fear she's getting ready to face the Chosen."
"I don't believe her," Angel muttered. "Don't worry, I'll handle it," he added, hanging up the phone. Giles sighed again and closed his eyes for a long moment, silently praying that Buffy wouldn't be stupid enough to walk knowingly into her death.
Buffy looked at herself in the mirror and sighed, trying to make the world stay in one place long enough for her to put her shirt on, at least. She had five more hours until sundown, and they were passing at a slow crawl. She didn't want to risk going back to bed, she was worried she might not wake up in time if she did. Sighing she listened to the phone ring a few times before picking it up, pressing down on the hang-up button, then placing the phone next to her dresser, leaving it off the hook. After another ten minutes she managed to put her shirt on and button it. She contemplated doing her hair, then decided against it. She was going to fight a vampire after all, not going to a huge party. The hours passed by slowly, but eventually the sun did set and Buffy stood, stretching her aching muscles and blinking back a wave of dizziness. She was definitely coming down with something, most likely the flu, and this was majorly not a good thing. Ignoring it, she walked towards the window and slid down the roof and onto the ground, then began heading towards the park. When she arrived the only light was from the crescent moon, and Buffy walked towards the bench and sat down, looking around and swinging her feet back and forth with impatience. She would have thought the Chosen One would at least know how to be on time.
"Well," a voice called, causing Buffy to jump, "if it isn't the slayer." Buffy turned and fought against a wave of dizziness as she stared at the chosen.
"So . . . you ready to fight or are we just going to talk all night?"
Maura smirked, the picture of beauty with the moon glinting off her night black hair. "I would have thought you'd rather talk," she said with a small smile. "After all, I'm sure your watcher has told you that no slayer has ever defeated one of my kind."
"That's a nice way of putting assassin," Buffy muttered. "'One of your kind' my foot. I've defeated hundreds of your kind, you're no different."
Maura raised an eyebrow. "I've been preparing for this night for two hundred years. You haven't even been preparing two weeks."
"Well, I might be better equipt to fight you if you weren't such a coward that you can't face me when I'm at my full strength. No, you have to wait till I'm at my weakest. And then when I still kick your ass you run away and feed off a defenseless girl."
"Please," Maura said coolly, taking a step forwards. "You only won last time because my *husband* was here to defend you. He's not here now. It's just you and me."
"Well, we can't leave the quote unfinished," Buffy protested. "'Soon it will be just me'. There, I feel better now, how about you?"
"You think you can hide behind your flippant remarks?" Maura asked. "You are nothing. You can't defeat me, so I'm supposed to be so impressed by your with that I let you live? Has that worked on even one vampire?" She shook her head. "Never mind. I'm not one for feeble banter." Buffy looked slightly taken aback for a moment, remembering the Master using that same term, then smiled.
"Fine. You ready to fight, then?"
"More than ready," Maura replied, and, with those words of warning, her face transformed and she jumped towards the Slayer.
Angel looked behind the back alley of the Bronze and sighed in frustration, wondering where Maura might have chosen to fight Buffy. He could only think of one other location, the park, and he silently prayed that he was correct. If he couldn't find them he certainly would be unable to help Buffy, and he knew without a doubt that Buffy would lose. All the other slayers had lost to the chosen, and they had at least been at their best physical strength, if not mental. Buffy, on the other hand, was both physically and emotionally weak, she didn't stand a chance against her, and Angel knew it. He began to make his way towards the park, fingering the stake he held in his left hand thoughtfully. Angel knew that if he was going to help Buffy it could very well come down to him killing the chosen, and he wasn't entirely sure he could do it. In many ways it was reminiscent of Darla, made only that much harder because Darla had signified the beginning of his life as a vampire, Maura signified his life before hand, before Darla. He wasn't sure if he had the strength to kill her, even though he knew intellectually that she wasn't the same woman he'd known. Walking into the park, he saw the pair fighting not ten paces away. As he looked on Maura ripped the stake Buffy held from her hand and, growling, forced her neck forwards as she sank her fangs into the soft flesh that waited. All thoughts of Maura's significance in his past life vanished from Angel's mind and he reacted instinctively, leaping forward and slamming the stake into Maura's heart. Much to Angel's relief she did not turn around, did not say his name, did not look at him with betrayal in her eyes, but instead sank to the ground, evaporating into a pile of ashes. To Angel's surprise he didn't care. At least, not yet. Kneeling down beside Buffy he gently touched her cheek. "Buffy?" he called softly. "Buffy, can you hear me?"
Buffy's eyelids fluttered open and she stared at him and blinked twice. "A - Angel?" she muttered.
"Come on," he said, lifting her into his arms once again. "We need to get you to a hospital."
"No," Buffy protested, shaking her head. "No . . . they'll . . . they'll ask questions . . . and . . . and the truth is . . . well . . . bad . . . " she mumbled, curling her head against his chest.
Angel nodded in acknowledgment and changed directions, heading towards the school and hoping Giles had adequate supplies to heal the weakening slayer.
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