The Choice
Lovely angst, wonderful angst, angst, angst, angst ....
“You try the laptop. My eyes hurt.” Willow stood up and let Dawn take her place on the dining room chair. “There has to be something. I won’t accept this.”
“Beljoxa’s Eye was pretty clear,” Anya said, leaning over the teenagers shoulder. “Well, as clear as confusing oracles get. We did something to mess things up when we brought Buffy back, and now the First Evil’s using it to win. Or something.”
Willow picked up one of her antique witchcraft books and flipped through it. “We must be missing something. Tara and I both went over every aspect of that spell. And why would Osiris want to help the First?”
“Thought your eyes were tired,” Dawn said to the weary witch, as she started yet another online search.
“Screen tired. Not book tired,” she lied. The words started to run together, and she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “What are we missing?”
“Oh God.” The colour left Dawn’s face, and she looked like she might faint. “No. It can’t be.”
Willow jumped up and ran to the girl’s side, bumping into Anya in the process. The two women stared down at the screen. “Oh, Dawn,” Willow exhaled.
“I don’t get it,” Anya said. “This page isn’t about resurrection spells. It’s about...Oh.”
“It’s not Buffy’s fault,” Dawn whispered. “It’s mine.”
The Slayer ran into the night. She couldn’t bear to hear the words again. Didn’t want to be around her friends, especially her sister. Everything had made so much sense. Dawn was made of her. Dawn’s blood was her blood. She could close the portal from Hell with her death. Everything was fine. It had worked.
But it hadn’t. Buffy wasn’t the key. Dawn was. And the sacrifice Buffy had made had been enough to close the gate, but not all the way. Not enough to keep Evil from slipping through.
“I’m the key,” Dawn said to her. “You should have let me die. Because of me, everyone’s going to die now.” Her voice had been so calm. So adult. “I should have died.”
And now Buffy tried to run away from the knowledge, like a child. Tried to run away and forget, because the gate was still open, and nothing could save them now. For all her bravado, for all her attempts at rallying the troops, they would all die. First the potentials, then her friends, then the world. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Spike could only imagine what she was thinking, how she felt. He had the weight of a thousand deaths on his head, but the woman he loved felt the weight of the whole world. She wasn’t in the cemetery. He’d keep looking. Wished she would take his comfort when he found her. But what comfort could he give?
The bar was crowded with misshapen creatures, vampires and demons. The air was thick with the smell of tobacco, incense and animal sweat. Buffy sat perched on the edge of her stool, two empty glasses in front of her already, working on a third.
“Buffy?” The voice was gentle, caring. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, Clem. Don’t feel like talking.” The drinks were going down smoother, now. She coughed a bit, but didn’t gag. It could have been anything in the glass, even blood. She didn’t care, as long as it helped her forget. It wasn’t helping.
“Maybe I should go and get Spike.”
She pulled him back down, a bit too roughly. “Maybe you shouldn’t.” Seeing the pain in Clem’s eyes, she started to cry. “I’m sorry. It’s just...”
“Lover’s quarrel?”
She laughed at that. “Wouldn’t it be easy.” She sucked back her sobs, took a long slow swallow of the alcohol and explained the situation to her friend. “So, impossible situation, right?”
“Maybe not.” He gestured to a tall, darkly clad demon standing in the corner. “This is Seth. I think he can help you.”
Buffy looked with caution at the creature. “Why should he? And how?”
“How is he’s a time traveler. And why is he’s my friend.”
For the first time in hours, Buffy started to smile. “Can you get me back, a little over a year ago? There’s something I’d like to do over. Get it right this time. If I’d just been a little quicker, I could have helped Spike. Could have saved her before it started.” She looked up at the tall, grinning monster. “Can you help me?”
“I’d be honored, Slayer.”
Spike saw them as he walked down the stairs. She was talking to Clem and... “No, Buffy!” he called. “Wait!” But Buffy was gone.
For a moment she felt disoriented. Then she realized she was up on the tower, the night wind beating against her. Glory was defeated, and now all she needed was to stop Doc. Save Dawn. She looked over to her sister. Where was Spike? But as she tried to run towards the demon, she realized with horror that her sister had already been cut, her dripping blood already opening the portal. With a scream of frustration she threw Doc over the side.
“Buffy!” Dawn cried. “Help me. Spike, he...”
“He’ll be okay.” Buffy gathered her sister into her arms, blood staining the front of her shirt. “I’m so sorry, Dawnie. I tried to get here sooner.”
“I have to stop it, Buffy.” Dawn pulled out of her sister’s arms. “I have to close the portal.”
“No, Dawn. Please, no.” As she watched, almost paralyzed, Dawn stepped backwards, and fell. “No!” Buffy was down on the platform, her arm straining to support her sister’s weight. She must have caught her without realizing. “I can’t let you die.”
Dawn looked up at her sister. “I love you, Buffy. Let me do this.”
Buffy watched her hand, as if it were a thing disconnected. It seemed like she was watching a movie, a vision of each finger releasing as she gave up her grip. The other hand slipping away into the night.
There was a flash of green light, and the portal was gone. Her sister was gone.
“Tell me about the patient in 1214,” the new girl asked. “It’s sad. She’s so pretty.”
The older woman leaned back against the counter of the nurse’s station. “That it is. Sad.” She sat down the chart she was holding. “She came here about a year ago. Her sister was killed, messing around on some tower or something. You know teenagers. She’d climbed up to try and save her, but she couldn’t. The kid fell.”
“Oh, my lord.” The younger nurse’s hand flew to her mouth. “How horrible.”
“Catatonic ever since. She must have been popular. Her friends still come by. The dark haired guy and his wife. Bit odd, that one. And the two girls, redhead and brunette. They’re by a lot. The father came by at first, but I haven’t seen him in months. Tall fellow from LA and his girlfriend, too. And there was an older British man, but I think he’s gone now. Think he’s the boyfriend’s father, or older brother maybe.”
The younger woman peeked through the window in the door. “That’s him? The blonde guy?”
“Yeah,” she smiled. “That’s him. Every night he comes, just after dark, stays until visiting hours end. Waiting.”
“Guess Harris told you, then. Imagine, him, the demon, and a baby. They’ll be needing a sitter, I reckon, so you’d better get up to it. Little tyke’ll need her Auntie Buffy.” He brushed a stray hair from her thin cheek. “Red and the little witch ‘re talking about getting married too. Imagine that. Things have certainly changed. Good thing, too. They’ll be needing you, I’m sure. So you’d best be getting up soon.”
He took her hand in his, stroking the back with his thumb. “I know you tried, love. If I could have saved her...In my mind I do. Every night.”
“I’d best be going before they throw me out. Besides, meeting the gang for patrol.” He held her hand to his lips. “Hope you don’t mind.” He lay the hand gently back onto the bedclothes. “Love you. See you tomorrow night.”