Author’s Note: The lyrics used in this chapter are from Fisher’s "I will Love you". If you want to get the full effect of this chapter I would advise to you play this song (lop it) while you’re reading. ;)

"SPIKE!" the sound of her own voice echoed in her ears.

She remained motionless, knelt on the hard asphalt, scattered remains of something broken, destroyed floating all around her, covering her torn, muddy, soaked clothes. Her breathing now came in short, shallow gasps, her fingers shivered slightly as reality viciously seeped into her, cutting its way through her gut and stomach, slashing everything in its path until she was numb to all of her surroundings.

The dust and smoke blew in the street, past the broken parking-meter to crudely caress her marred skin and settled over her long eyelashes, but she remained unaware of every and anything, even as the shattered pieces of glass bit and cut into the tender skin of her knees.

As the smoke cleared, her glassy eyes witnessed, unresponsively, the chaos and destruction that spread before her. In the middle of the street, a large gapping hole now took its place, the blackness irradiating from it crawled over the asphalt making it even darker, rose up the building were a few flames still licked there way up the wooden doors.

In the distance, she seemed to hear her name being called out, but it was far, far away. It sounded as if she was underwater and the clear sound of the world had become dull and weak as it hit the crystal water before it reached her ears.

"Buffy…"

It was a familiar voice, a safe voice. A new gush of wind licked her face causing her hair to float up for a second and the dust, which had fixated itself over her pale skin, to blow away. Suddenly, the numbness was gone and her senses came to such a heightened level of attention that it became inhumanly painful.

Someone was shaking her, violently. Shaking her into a consciousness she didn’t want, she couldn’t bare. Then she saw her – flaming red hair, pale white skin, large desperate eyes begging her for something, small delicate mouth shouting her name in an unyielding mantra– Willow.

"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy." The redhead repeated unrelentingly as she shook her best friend.

A gasp of hope escaped her lips as she saw her friend blink for the first time and swallow hard.

"Are you ok?" Willow asked as she stopped shaking the bruised Slayer.

For the first time that night the horrible odour of fresh blood reached her nose, she looked down and remained unresponsive as she saw the cuts in her knees.

"Buffy, you’re hurt." Willow noted as she followed her friend’s gaze to the ruined denims.

"I’m ok, Willow." Buffy finally spoke in a hoarse voice. She swallowed hard as she felt the blood crawl up her throat. She felt as if she had been screaming for hours off the top of her lungs until the flesh that covered her larynx was sore and raw.

"Are you sure?"

Buffy nodded calmly.

"Where’s Spike?" she heard Giles’ familiar voice from behind her and she turned to look up at him.

She swallowed hard once more, the question seemed to cut straight to her heart and rip it apart.

She closed her eyes for a second and with a new found strength the said plainly:

"He’s dead."

She stumbled to her feet as an amazed Willow helped her up. The redhead’s first reaction was to ask her: "How? When? How?" but she held herself and fell into stride with the Slayer as she limped up the street.

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Xander felt his eyes turn in their sockets as the sharp, deadly fangs broke his skin. As the blood flowed into the hungry demon’s mouth, images of his life, of his memories with the Scoobies, with Anya assaulted his mind and he knew it would soon be over. Slowly, he realised his legs were buckling from under him, his arms became weak and the reassuring numbness of eternal sleep spread from his punctured neck down his entire body. He was ready; he knew it. Suddenly – PANG!

He was now on the hard wooden floor. As he struggled to open his eyes, he first saw a large pile of dust, behind it two delicate feminine feet.

"Leave my man alone!" it was her – Anya.

Dawn gasped in relief as she saw the vengeance demon bury the piece of wood in the vampire’s back. In seconds, he was dust and Xander lost all the support he had and came tumbling to the floor. Noting the other two vampires that held her were distracted by the turn of events, the young girl immediately elbowed the one who was holding her from behind and punched the other square in the face. Her small hand reached for the piece of firewood she had taken out of the fire moments before and soon the two gruesome demons joined their leader in a large pile of dust.

Dawn breathed heavily, gasping uncontrollably from the combination between the rush of adrenaline surging through her veins and the effort of the fight. As she settled down, her gaze fell over the wounded Xander and the crying Anya, kneeling next to him.

"Honey, honey, are you ok? Please don’t die. You can’t die. I… I…. I’ll kill you if you do." She babbled nervously.

"We have to get him to a hospital." Clem’s sweet voice came from behind the couple.

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The florescent lights burned her eyes as she looked up from the young woman who was cleaning her wounds to gaze in the direction of the door.

"Hey, Buffy!" Dawn whispered as she stepped into the green painted room.

"Hey!" she whispered back, in the same melancholic, tired tone.

"They say he’s going to be ok." The younger girl explained.

"Well, you’re done miss Summers. Next time be careful when you go running around." The nurse said as Buffy hopped off the bed and walked toward the door.

"Thanks you." She said plainly and exited the room with Dawn close behind. Soon, Giles, Willow and Anya were standing next to them.

"How long is it gonna take?" Anya whined, pouting, but before she could say anything else she felt a light tap on her shoulder and when she turned around she was greeted by a tall, thin man, dressed in white, with a stethoscope hanging around his neck.

"Miss Anya?" the man asked as he looked at the chart he held in his hands.

"Yes, that’s me. Is he ok? They said he was ok, but I know how these things are, one minute you’re fine, the next you’re in a coma for three or four days, like a zombie, and then you wake up to find the person you love being – Auch!" Anya cut short her rambling as she felt Willow squeeze her hand.

"He’s fine. He’s just got a case of anaemia. But he’ll be fine. You can see him now, he’s in room 308." The doctor informed before greeting everyone and excusing himself.

"Right, Xander’s got anaemia, Buffy fell and cut her knees… I wonder how they are going to explain the big gapping hole in the middle of Roosevelt Drive." Willow mumbled to herself.

As they walked around the narrow corridors of the hospital, Buffy and Dawn fell behind.

"So, how’s Spike?" Dawn asked with a small smile on her face. "Is he a bit bummed about losing his soul?"

Buffy remained in silence for a second and simply nodded.

"So, why didn’t he come? I mean, I know he doesn’t like Xander all that much, but he could’ve at least bothered to see if I was ok." The younger girl crossed her arms over her chest and sulked.

"He… He was tired. And it’s close to sunrise. He didn’t want to risk it." Buffy lied.

"What do you mean close to sunrise, there are still three hours to go." Dawn protested.

"Dawn… We’ll talk about this later." Buffy cut short the conversation as they entered the room.

Xander lay on the bed; all sorts of tubes and devices attached to him and an annoying, constant beeping sound in the background attested to his heart’s well being.

"Honey, are you ok?" Anya immediately lunged herself at him, covering his face with suffocating kisses. Suddenly, she stopped and stood up. "I’m still mad at you." She said in a serious tone.

"Anya, I-" Xander began but was forced to stop as a wave of coughing and gasping came over him.

In a blink of an eye, Anya was on her knees, next to his bed, her hands gently stroking his tussled hair.

"Are you ok? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m not angry anymore. Please don’t die!" she said dramatically.

"I’m fine, Anya." He smiled as he ran his hand over her blond hair. He looked up from her to meet the others. "You guys are ok. How did you do it? Is Ethan… You know?"

"He’s dead." Giles said, as he pulled his glasses and began cleaning them with a handkerchief.

"Willow, used magic to throw him into the Foris Caliga." Dawn said with a great big smile.

"Well, and how did you destroy the Foris Cal… thingie?" Xander asked.

"We threw Ethan into it. Hello, he was human, hence possessor of a soul. " was the first thought that ran through Willow’s mind. But that wasn’t what they had agreed to tell Dawn, not yet, at least. It had been a long night and Buffy didn’t want to have to tell her what really had happen.

"Spike destroyed it!" Dawn immediately stepped in, huge grin of pride still plastered all over her face.

Xander ‘s ghost of a smile crumbled as his gaze fell over Giles and Willow’s expression. The two seemed to have faded into the background; head bowed, stare buried in the white floor. There was something wrong with this picture. He was about to speak but Buffy cut him off:

"We should be going. Xander needs to rest." She said in a cold tone and walked towards the door. Before leaving she turned to the man laying in the bed and breathed: "I’m glad you’re all right." And she left.

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"What happen to Buffy?" Dawn asked suspiciously as she took another big bite of her tuna sandwich, spilling a little on the kitchen counter.

"Just tired I guess." Willow avoided the subject. "Come on, you have to go to bed. You’ve got class tomorrow."

"What? I get thrown out of a window, almost get bitten by vampires under the impending threat of an apocalypse, I fight the vampires, actually kick some major ass, if I may say so, all in one night and I still have to get to class the next day? It’s not fair!" she pouted.

"One of the many advantages of being a Sunnydale City resident and the Slayer’s sister." Willow smiled lightly as she made her way upstairs behind Dawn.

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She sighed as she entered her room, pulling the thick robe tighter around her small figure. Automatically, her hand went for the comb that lay on her nightstand and began to brush her wet hair. She paced slowly around her bed, from one side to the other, her mind blank, her eyes glassy and lifeless.

Taking in one long breath, she pushed her pillow aside and looked for her pyjamas, when she failed to find them there she remembered she had changed the sheets last time. Silently, she moved to the wooden wardrobe. Opening it, she bent down and quickly looked through one of her drawers, picking up her long white nightgown. Her long fingers slipped between the knots that tied the robe in place, undoing them. The rough fabric slid down her shoulders to the floor and was replaced by the pure silky texture of her nightdress. Bending down once more, she picked up the robe and turned to place it over the hook on her wardrobe’s door when she saw it – just hanging there, motionless, dark and shiny, the scent of alcohol and cigarettes still oozing from it.

Suddenly, all the memories came flooding back to her and she forced her eyes shut to pushed them back, back to the obscure places of her mind where they couldn’t hurt her anymore, but it was no use. A door had been open, a wound which would take too long to heal. With bloodshot, glassy eyes, she took a step closer, her fingers lingering over the leather material of the coat.

With heavy breathing, racing heart, she made her way downstairs, out the door and onto the street. She walked oblivious to the pouring rain, to the darkness of the night, to the feel of cold cement under her bare feet.

As she reached her destination, she fell to her knees; her white nightgown slowly taking in the darkness of the dirty asphalt. Pulling the coat closer to herself she tried to protect herself, not from the pouring rain outside, but from the emptiness and the coldness that burned her from the inside.

"Buffy…" a mere whisper of the wind. "Buffy…"

Her eyes shot open.

"Spike?" her heart leaped to her throat. It was coming from the hole in the middle of the street. She knew it! She knew it! He was alive!

Clumsily she stumbled to her feet as the long soaked nightgown and coat got in the way.

"Spike!" her voice was hoarse and her throat hurt, but she didn’t care. "Spike!"

She wandered blindly through the foggy and stormy night, oblivious to the pieces of shattered glass that cut deep into the soles of her feet.

"Buffy…"

"SPIKE!" she was now screaming, a scared smile growing over her wet lips. "SPIKE!"

"Buffy! No! Buffy!"

Buffy felt someone yanking her hard away from the large hole.

"Spike?" she asked uncertain.

"Buffy. It’s me, Willow!"

"Spike?" she insisted, looking left and right, but refusing to see the soaked redhead that held her tightly by her arms and was standing right in front of her.

"BUFFY!" Willow shook her violently and it seemed to work. Slowly, blue eyes focused into green ones and she seemed to be back.

"Willow?"

"Yes, it’s me!" Willow forced a smile to cover her worry. Seeing Buffy like this, hair dishevelled, soaked to the bone, walking blindly over shattered glass with a blank and yet painful expression on her face made her remember the time they all thought she had gone made and had tried to kill them, only moths before.

"He’s here." She said, suddenly energetic, full of life and hope. Her fingers trembled as she pushed her hair away from her face and restarted walking around.

"Who’s here?"

"Spike! I heard him. He-he’s down there." She said as her hands travelled wildly from pointing at the hole and back to fussing with her hair.

"Buffy…" Willow stared at her pain stricken friend.

"I’m telling you. I *heard* him, he was calling my name. We have get him out of there before sunrise. He can’t stay down there. We’ve got to help him." She rambled on and on, as she moved like a wounded animal between the debris and the mud.

"Buffy…" As she followed her friend around the chaos, Willow felt her heart being crushed. She knew what it was like to lose someone you love in a heartbeat. To have someone there and then… not. She had refused to let her go too, just like Buffy was doing now. "Buffy. Buffy." She called out, but she refused to listen. "BUFFY!" she finally shouted and it caught her attention.

Buffy stared at her wide-eyed. Bloodshot, large eyes, pleading not to take this illusion away from her. Seeing the pain on her face, Willow lowered her voice to a mere whisper as she continued: "He’s gone." She stated simply.

Immediately, Buffy began to emphatically shake her head: "No, no, no. I heard him, I know I heard him. I’m telling you he’s down there." She desperately pointed to the black hole.

"Buffy…" Willow whispered once more as she closed the distance between the two of them. "Buffy…"

"No, no! He-he’s here, I know he-he…" Buffy gasped and struggled with her throat as it closed up and made it impossible to breathe.

"Buffy, let it go."

"NO!" she eventually shouted. "He-he, he’s…"

"Buffy…" Willow breathed as she settled her hand over Buffy’s wet cheek.

"He-he’s…"

"Gone, Buffy. He’s gone." Willow finished the sentence for her and suddenly it seemed to dawn on Buffy, it was true, he was gone.

"Oh, God…" she whispered, breaking down. Her legs gave way beneath her and she fell to her knees, taking Willow with her. Buffy’s hands came to cover her face as the tears finally spilled freely, ready to grieve. "He-he’s…" she tried to say it, but she couldn’t. "Oh, God, Willow. I-I…" she stuttered as the hiccups took over. "I-I love him."

"It’s ok… it’s ok…" Willow’s soothing voice hummed in her hear as the witch’s long arms folded around the Slayer’s tiny figure and rocked her into quietness.