ONCE MORE/ PART FIFTEEN
The party was over. The time had come and passed. They sat in silence. Cordelia and Xander were in one corner, she not wanting to say but truly believing that she *had* seen Angel, and he not wanting to say but truly believing that things *could* be worked out with Buffy. Now that he knew the truth. But couldn't say it.
Willow and Oz were together in another area, and the Slayer was alone.
A crash came from outside the front door, followed by a muffled scream. Everyone jumped, but it was Buffy who stood up, fists clenched, itching for a fight.
"What was that?" Willow whispered.
"Wait," she said, and stepped outside of the door. Buffy walked out of a trap.
The master locks were activated from the control panel in the second-floor booth, and in a large slam, both doors were instantly bolted shut.
"Oh God. Oh, GOD." Cordelia's hands started to shake.
"Are we trapped?" Xander ripped the leg off of a chair in a rush of adrenaline. "Are we?"
"That's the master lock system," his wife responded in a low tone. "All the doors, and most likely the windows too, are sealed shut in case of an emergency. The only way they can be opened is from the outside, or from the booth upstairs."
"Something's *in* the booth upstairs," Oz added quietly, carefully. "Something locked us in."
"Can't - can't Buffy come back and open the door for us?" asked Willow.
"Not likely!" answered a booming voice from above. They looked up to see Rory, Spike's right hand, stepping down the metal stairs from the booth area. A circle of vampires came around him as he descended. Xander estimated that there were more than 20, all of them strong and powerful-looking. "You see, little Buffy isn't coming back. Neither is good old Angelus." He paused and smiled evilly. "Or should I say bad old Angelus?"
"Where's Spike?" Xander demanded.
"My, you humans are thick." Rory scratched his rough orange beard, leading his band up to the two couples. "He's out making sure that little Buffy won't come back. And we're here to make sure that you don't come out. Alive."
***********
Buffy tiptoed tentatively outside of the Bronze, and was into the gutter looking around when the door slammed. She didn't even hear it. What she did hear was the voice of someone familiar.
"Hello."
She wasn't facing him, but was stopped short in her tracks. Without turning around, "Hi."
"How have you been?"
"Oh. I. I." Buffy twirled around. "I don't know anymore."
"This is not the time, Buffy," Angel replied harshly. He noticed the tear welling up in her eye, falling because she saw what was behind him.
"I know." To his captor: "Your business is with me."
"Not quite," Spike answered. "He slaughtered the woman I love. So I was torn between whether it was enough to let him see me slaughter the woman *he* loves or just to kill him." The vampire smiled, wrinkles showing in his skin, years flashing scarily in his eye. He was old. "I decided to let him see you die, then I'd kill him."
Buffy was resolute. "Fight me."
"Oh, no guns?" he teased. "Do you want a real fight, Slayer? Or do you want to keep cheating destiny? Do you want to keep avoiding the way you were meant to die?" He pushed the stake into Angel's neck, feeling the cold blood flow onto his fingers. Spike wasn't hungry for it. "Or maybe you'd rather die at his hands. It could be arranged."
Before she could speak, Angel started to slip slowly out of Spike's grip, almost fainting. Then, without warning, he whipped his neck around and sunk his fangs into Spike's neck. The vampire dropped the vampire, howling in pain. Angel, still in his tuxedo, grabbed Buffy's hand, pulling her over her stilettos across the street. Spike was in hot pursuit.
"There!" The drive-through entrance to the Sunnydale Underground Garage loomed ahead of them. "Run in!"
"What are you doing, Buffy?"
"RUN!" Spike raced in after them, and the lovers were falling down dark ground, the long ramp, landing together at the bottom. Somehow, Spike was already in front of them. He swung at Angel, connecting brutally, and removed a stake from the front pocket of his own tuxedo jacket. "I brought two. You brought none," he reminded his sire.
Buffy got up behind Spike and did a roundhouse kick to his bruised neck, sending the vampire king reeling to the floor. He got up and faced Buffy. "I need to see something," he snarled. Spike, turning viciously into his vampiric countenance, pounced on her, clawing through the delicate beads of her dress while Angel wrestled him from the back. Finally, Spike was pulled off her, and as Buffy struggled to her feet she saw that he had accomplished it.
The left strap of her dress was torn, and one breast was nearly exposed. What could be seen was her shame. The scarlet scar, the letter "A" in horrific reality over the top of her beautiful breast, deep and brilliantly red.
"What happened to you, Hester?" Spike asked. "OH! I forgot." He grabbed Angel's head from the back and slammed it into the concrete wall. "BAD SEX?"
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Buffy rushed at him, but not before surreptitiously picking up a piece of debris from the floor and sticking it in her mouth. She leapt in the air and tackled Spike with her thighs, knocking him to the ground and squeezing hard around his neck. Buffy only had one chance.
As the Slayer tensed her upper legs around him, Spike gasped for air, grabbing at her dress. "Y-y-ou wan-nt it fro-m me-ee, Sla-yer? I-'m al-rea-dy in-vol- lved." He jerked the words out through a closing windpipe. "Th-is do-es-n't hurt m-ee."
"Oh, it doesn't?" Buffy couldn't stop herself. But they were struggling an a small puddle of gasoline.
"THIS WILL!" Buffy ripped the match from between her teeth and struck it against her own marred chest. It burst into flames.
It was too easy.
She shoved it into his mouth.
He writhed. He fell. Screaming in terror, shrieking in the throes of death. He fell into the liquid on the concrete.
Spike opened his mouth and the fire engulfed him.
Buffy didn't even get to see him turn to dust before she was surrounded by a circle of flame.