DISCLAIMER: The characters of Buffy and company belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, WB, 20^th Century FOX, and probably some more.

RATING: PG-13 for violence. Nothing too serious, generally if you can watch the show, you can read this.

The demon looked up at her, looked up through her lover’s eyes. And she knew that he could see the pain on her face.

The Slayer did the unforgivable. She froze. In the act of Slaying, with a stake raised to her demonic foe, she froze.

Angel was amused. He had been right; the only way to kill this girl was to love her. Love was her greatest weakness, perhaps her only weakness. He smiled as her ripped another shred out of her wounded heart and sanity. "You can’t do it. You can’t kill me."

The words pierced Buffy’s broken heart. It was true. She had failed, she couldn’t kill him. But she couldn’t lower the stake either. She was frozen, frozen between choices. And all the consequences were black. She had no guiding light, no hope for the future, no stability in her own life. How could she choose?

She was human, and she couldn’t kill her lover. And she was a Slayer; she couldn’t not kill an active vampire.

Time itself stopped. The world froze in a single instant.

And Buffy the Vampire Slayer saw the future.

Glimpses, flashes of future memories. She saw what the future held for herself and her lover. And she felt horror flood through her.

She saw herself fall beneath a fledgling, destroyed by the words, "Angel sends his love."

Giles reading to her the countless exploits of the demon who had been known as ‘The Scourge of Europe’.

Pain over pain as Angel tormented her and her friends. As he drove wedges between her and all those she knew. As he killed the woman who had betrayed them with her silence, and who had been attempting to save him. As he almost killed her Watcher…

Angel pinning her to the ground his mocking voice, "Things do not look good for our heroine."

Coming to herself in his arms, looking into his eyes, and for a moment, seeing love, before her heart once more was torn asunder.

Whistler’s words: "In the end you’re all you’ve got…" And then later: "Wrong kid, you’ve still got one more thing…"

And then the final fight. Sword against sword. Demon against Chosen. The fate of the world in her hands. A vortex to hell slowly opening.

Buffy saw. And Buffy knew the truth. Until this demon was destroyed, blood and death would follow his every footstep. And every life that he took would weigh on her, because she had released him. And she had allowed him to live. And in the end, he would open the mouth of Hell, and the world itself would be in mortal danger. She would sacrifice everything to save the world. Perhaps, perhaps it would be easier now. There was no easy way for her, but perhaps it would be easier if fewer people paid the price in blood…

The crystal moment of revelation ended.

Buffy could not do what needed to be done, but the Slayer could.

Her stake moved forward, closing the distance between them. Ending in his heart. Emotions passed over his face, rage, amazement, betrayal, and finally love. Almost as a final gift, she realized that he had truly loved her. Completely, even his demon had loved her.

Angel reached out to his love, but before the gesture was completed the change began, and his body began to crumble into dust.

Buffy watched as his claddagh fell to the ground, as it had in her dream. She watched as his body exploded. And she thought she heard her name whispered on the wind, as her world shattered.

In a single moment, it was over. One more moment with her only love, and then that moment was gone.

Giles watched as the children picked up the pieces of the fallen demon. But he was distracted. His Slayer was battling for her life. Against a foe he was sure she was not ready to face. But he knew of no way to aid her. And so he prayed for her.

Everyone looked up as a single shriek pierced the air. A scream of such pain and grief, that they could not bear it. More pain was expressed in that cry then any of them could imagine feeling.

All the Slayerettes knew whose voice had called out. And all feared for the worst.

Buffy knelt in the deserted movie theatre. Her clothes clung to her body, soaked by the indoor sprinkling system. Her hair was plastered to her face.

But all she could feel was the hot pinpricks on her face and arms, pinpricks where his ashes had burned her.

All her hopes and dreams were ash along with him. She had once said to him, "When I look into the future, all I see is you. All I want is you."

And it was true. Everything that she had wanted, everything that they had been to each other flashed before her eyes, and was gone.

The pain was stunning. She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t be angry. She couldn’t breathe.

All she could do was kneel, as water poured down from above.

As if the heavens could weep for her, when she couldn’t weep for herself.

And that was how the others found her.

Giles stared at his Slayer. Instinctively he knew what had happened.

She had done her duty.

As a Watcher he knew that that was the most important thing. The fate of the mortal world rested on her shoulders. She was but a single human, a single drop of water in the endless ocean. And her desires could not change the tide.

But she was their protector. Without her, all mortals were in danger. But that did not make her wishes any more important to the whole. In fact, he had always been taught that a Slayer sacrificed everything within themselves for the greater good.

But he was also a man. And he loved this girl more than if she had been his own daughter. And he thought he had some inkling of the pain she had gone through. He didn’t know of any way to heal her. Anything that could bring her shattered heart back. If she was going to survive this, she would have to find the strength to do it, by herself.

Willow and Xander only saw their fallen friend. They too realized what must have happened. But they were younger, more innocent. They thought they could help.

The two knelt next to Buffy, and spoke to her with soothing words. But she never made a sign that she heard them. Not a flicker crossed her face.

They tried to force her to stand, but she was a Slayer and nothing could move her when she had decided not to move.

In the end, five Slayerettes took up the vigil. All wondering to themselves, but not to each other, if Buffy would ever recover from what she had done.

In Buffy’s shattered mind a single thought resolved. Angel was gone. Forever. There would never be another moment with him. Her time with him was over. She had freed his soul from its curse, and given him back to the ether. She had killed his demon, the one that had been known as Angelus. Those two acts had cost her everything.

But she was still the Slayer. She could not be the Slayer if she refused to accept this truth. She couldn’t hang on to a past that never would be again.

Angel was dead. Angelus was dead. Buffy was dead. But the Slayer still lived.

The Slayerettes were stunned as Buffy finally moved. She hadn’t moved in hours. They were all desperately afraid that they had lost her. But none had been willing to give up on her.

But then they saw her eyes. And what they saw in them was frightening. There was no life, no spark. They were dead and empty.

They were even more shocked when Buffy walked out of the room. For a moment they stared at each other, realizing that Buffy had not even seen them.

And then they hurried after; unsure if she was going to do something stupid.

But when the arrived on the other side of the door, the Slayer had vanished without a trace.

The Slayer walked slowly through the apartment, careful to touch nothing. If memories were stirred by her return, they did not show on her face. Gingerly she sat down on the edge of the bed.

For a moment she looked around. She had returned here, returned to the beginning of the end. She was completing the circle that had begun only two days ago. She slowly reached over to the nightstand and set down the object she had been carrying.

Silver caught the dim light of the room, outlining the heart on the ring. His heart had belonged to her. She looked down at the ring on her own finger. The heart pointed toward her, declaring to the world that she belonged to someone. But she didn’t. Her heart was ash. She slowly slipped the ring from her finger and set it next to his. Her fingers returned to her throat, fingering the chain of his cross. But in the end, they dropped back to her lap. She would keep the cross, it was a weapon.

And then she curled up on his bed and slept.

In the end, the Slayerettes had gone to school. None had anything better to do. They could only wait for her.

Before first period Willow had finally turned to Giles. "How many Slayers have committed suicide?"

Everyone in the room had flinched from that word, although each had been thinking it.

The Watcher sighed, "None. Their sense of duty is too strong for that. Slayers have different personalities and different strengths, but they always have that sense of duty. And Buffy’s was the greatest that I have ever heard of. She felt for every innocent. Blamed herself for each life she failed to protect. I don’t think she could just, leave us."

Cordelia looked up, and even her eyes held a piece of Buffy’s pain, "Then we should find her, right?"

Strangely enough, it was Xander that spoke with wisdom. "I don’t think we’ll find her, until she’s ready to be found."

Silence spread as they all accepted these words.

Silence that was broken by the school bell.

All were grateful for something else to think about.

One hour before sunset, all the Slayerettes were still gathered in the library. Not one could think of a better place to be.

Normally, they would all be researching, or training, or just playing. But not this time. Everyone was seated at the table. Even Giles wasn’t looking through a book.

Not a single one heard anything, but they all sensed a presence. Looking up, they saw the one person they had hoped, but not expected, to see, Buffy.

But it was a different Buffy. She was no longer fashionably dressed. Instead she wore solid black. Black jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt. A silver cross hung at her throat. Her hair was pulled back into a simple pony-tail, and not a trace of make-up brushed her face. She looked like a very dangerous Slayer, but nothing like Buffy.

But none of those differences compared to her eyes. Everyone expected grief and pain in her eyes. But there was nothing. No pain, no rage, no grief, no love. Just the peace of death.

Buffy spoke first, her voice as emotionless as her eyes and all of her attention directed only on Giles. "Do you want me to train, Watcher?"

"Buffy, are you alright?"

"I am the Slayer."

"Yes, yes, you are. But you’ve had a shock. Perhaps a night off might be in order."

Buffy shook her head. But her voice remained dead, "No. It will be night soon. If you don’t want me to train, I’m going to get weapons and get ready. I will patrol."

Not wishing to push her fragile hold sanity, he asked quietly, "For how long?"

"Until dawn."

"And then what?"

"And then I will sleep."

"Nothing else?"

"I am the Slayer." And with that she turned and left. Without ever acknowledging that there had been more people in the library then her Watcher.

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