Yellow Roses, part 3: Death Works Alone

Energizer Bunny arrested; charged with battery.

Diabolique stumbled, putting her hands out to stop her from falling. Must... must work quickly... She fumbled around for the drawers of the cabinets, searching quickly for the much-needed silverware.

Angel was laying on his bed, groaning slightly. He had been doused with holy water, and was tossing and turning from the pain in his shoulders and chest. Hold your horses. You're not going to die. Just be patient... and stay unconscious, Diabolique told him silently. She yanked open another drawer, mentally cursing the vampire for hiding his silver so well... and he had better have some. She wasn't in the mood to break into someone else's house just to pacify a vampire. She swayed dizzily again, once more steadying herself on the counter. It could be worse... She opened the final drawer, finally coming across the... five?... eating utensils. She sighed, grabbing them all in her hand counting them once again, just to make sure. Yep, that would be five. Okie dokey, I guess he could have none at all, which would bite even more... I guess it'll be enough. She opened her hand, and the silverware make a slight tinkling noise. Diabolique shook her head to stop the incessant spinning and concentrated. Her brow furrowed, her eyes narrowed, and the slight smile that had momentarily lit up her face was replaced by her usual intense straight "poker face", as Angel termed it.

Angel. Him. Traitor. Traitor in love. In love with Buffy. Her Buffy. I must remind myself of that often. He's a fool in love. The smile almost touched her face again, but she once again, almost reluctantly, focused on the task at hand.

A small, glowing symbol just above the center of her eyebrows faded into view. It pulsed, brighter and brighter, until a beam shot out of it, melting the forks and spoons in her hands. With shaking fingers, she re-shaped the blob, melding it into a circle with a intricate design on it. It cooled quickly, and she muttered some words in old Latin over it. They sounded, to the uncomfortable Angel, something like, "Watermelon watermelon watermelon...", but he was dreaming, so what did he know?

Remembering at the last minute to put a hole in the top, she did so, and strung a ribbon through it. Tying the ends of the ribbon together, Diabolique felt her strength leave her, and staggered as quickly as she could over to Angel. Her fingers shaking, she half-heartedly tugged Angel's shirt off him and slipped the originally - not - too - terribly - clean - silverware - now - a - not - so - well - shaped - amulet over his head. With a sigh, she plopped down on the floor, curling her legs around her.

What a day.

Raising her hand to her forehead, she groaned and recoiled from herself, surprised and dismayed at the height of her temperature. Great. First I'm demoted to a lowly position, now I'm gonna fail my first mission in this lowly position. Some great, big, scary, Angel of Death. She tried to stand up, but her muscles all felt like under-cooked Jell-O. Not firm and cool like good Jell-O... gosh, now that I think about it, I would really like some white grape Jell-O right now... the new kind, not that old, crappy kind...

She sighed again, and when it came out as a choked cough, she began to worry about herself. Taking a deep, strained breath, she put all her strength into crawling towards the closet where Angel kept his blankets. Sure, Angel wouldn't mind being cold, him being kinda dead and all, but she was getting the chills in a cold kinda manner. She pulled down the only one she could reach without putting all that energy into standing up. Stumbling more and more even while crawling, she managed to drag herself to the foot of Angel's bed. Like a snake, she slithered up the bed and positioned herself against the wall on her stomach, covered with her much sought-after blanket. Laying her heavy head down on the pillow arranged there so conveniently for this purpose, she reached a leaden arm out and rested her fingers on the silver around Angel's neck.

Her cross glinted slightly, her choker's gem dulled a bit it in color, and the unhappy angel drifted into a dreamless sleep.

"You let her do WHAT?!?" Cordelia shrieked for what seemed the quadrillionth time.

"I didn't think she was gonna kill him--"

"No, you just didn't think!" Cordelia crossed her arms and glared at Xander. "Even if he is a vampire, he was a nice one. He told me my dress was pretty."

"Oh, sure, now there's a--"

"Xander," Giles interrupted, looking angrier than Xander had ever seen him, "I told you not to trust her, but once again you let your hormones get in the way of your good judgment. I am extremely disappointed in you."

Willow looked up from her seat in the library. "Gosh, I can't believe he's really gone... I dunno, I guess I kinda thought that, you know, we'd, uh, kinda feel something if he were gone. But all I feel is empty."

Giles patted her arm uncomfortably. "I know it's difficult." He pursed the bookshelves even more fervently.

"So, uh, there is no emptiness, and Angel, having gone into the sunlight, is dead, and--where is that blasted book?" Giles' train of thought backed up even more quickly, plowing through station after station. "I must find that book!"

Willow looked at her caffeine-starved fellow researcher. "Uh, Giles, calm down."

Giles arm suddenly snaked out and snatched a book off the shelf. "Here it is!" he cried, with a little more enthusiasm than was warranted. He hurried to the table all ready stacked with books and set it down, rifling through it.

Ms. Calendar picked that minute to walk in. "So, what's going on? Have you found Buffy yet?"

Willow looked at her computer teacher sadly. "No... and now Angel's dead."

"He's dead?"

Willow nodded, and the full sense of the word 'dead' seemed to hit her as she bowed her head. A tear slipped slowly down her cheek.

"The Angel of Death killed him," Xander put in quietly. "She brought him out into the sunlight."

Jenny frowned, suddenly feeling more serious. Flicking on the computer, she asked, "Which one?"

Cordelia cocked her head, confused. "Which sunlight? The only sunlight. Duh." She had a rare moment and thought. "Or did you mean Angel? It doesn't matter, though. There's only one of him, too."

Jenny rolled her eyes, staring impatiently at the screen. Giles' computer took so long to boot up, it was frustrating. "No, which Angel of Death?"

"I thought," Willow said, surprised, "that there was only one."

Jenny fought the urge to laugh. "With all the death in the world today? Ha! No, the poor Death Angel would hardly be able to lead all the souls to their final resting place."

"Final resting place? You mean, RIP just isn't enough anymore?" Xander was starting to get interested.

So was Cordelia. "What do--What?"

Jenny silently cheered. The computer was done booting. She double-clicked the 'Netscape' icon and turned to the screen, still talking to the teens. "I can't believe Rupert didn't explain this to you." She typed in the password and waited for the link to form. "There are five Angels of Death. Four of them switch farely often. Most angel's minds aren't strong enough and don't have enough of a balance of good and bad to stand it for long. There's one AoD, though who's been at her job for a while... I can't recall her name at the moment. She was a mistake though... she died at about the age of 18 or so... and her mother, quite the saint, was meant to become an angel, not her... or so the rumor is. After a period of bad jobs and assignments, she was assigned to Death," she clicked on 'net search', "and has pretty much been by herself ever since."

"What did you mean by, uh, 'leading the souls'?"

Jenny's fingers flew over the keyboard, searching for the right site. "An AoD's job is to lead souls to... well... essentially, heaven or hell."

"Heaven or hell?"

"Yeah. Often, though, souls aren't ready for their sudden death or don't want to go where they're supposed to. So the angel must be prepared to fight. It's quite an emotional challenge to have to fight if you're an angel."

"But," a skeptical Xander protested, "there must be a lot of angels who know how to fight."

"No, not really. There are plenty of good souls that go to heaven that know how to fight, but they don't become angels. Becoming an angel requires one to reach many rather unreachable standards." She chose a site that looked promising and waited, rather impatiently for it to load. "That fifth AoD didn't really make it. What did you say the angel's name was?"

"Something really cheesy," Cordelia supplied. "Something... Swedish--"

"Spanish," Giles corrected.  "Or, possibly French."

Cordelia shrugged. "Whatever."

Jenny began to examine the sight. "Ooo, pictures." She clicked on the bios link.

Willow wiped her nose on her sleeve. "It was something like, 'Dialique'."

Xander sniffed. "Oh, yeah. She was the 'angel of soap'. Great one, Will."

Willow studied her feet. "I'm tired."

An exceedingly British voice came wafting over to them from the table it's owner had been working at. "Oh, dear."

Xander looked back at Giles. "That didn't sound like a good, 'Oh, dear'."

Giles looked thoroughly confused, so he did the wisest thing possible: he ignored the boy. "Uh, yes. I just read a disturbing thing. It seems that, uh, Diabolique will take the Slayer away... at least, that's what I get out of the initial translation." His eyes were dark with anger and worry as he looked up. "She intends to kill Buffy!"

Xander looked around nervously. "Now, don't you think that's just jumping to conclusions? Maybe she'll... bring Buffy back..." A tiny voice danced around in his head, singing a little song. She's played you for a fool. She's using you to help her kill Buffy. She's laughing right now... laughing at you! Ha, ha, ha! The voice sounded suspiciously like Diabolique's.

Jenny spoke up from the computer. "Diabolique, you say? Hmm..." She searched the bios for that name. It was on the bottom of the stack. "She's the one who's been the AoD for so long... she has the dates of being one for... roughly, 5,000 years... give or take a couple thousand. Qualities listed are... ruthless, a loner... enjoys her job too much... hmm." She looked back at the group. "Sorry guys... this doesn't sound good."

Giles sighed, taking off his glasses and setting them down. "Oh, Buffy..."

Diabolique groaned, the bad dream of her past clawing at her mind with talons of steel: cold, hard, and dull. She gasped with pain, and her fingers curled around the silver tightly, then relaxed slowly.

Willow went through the day in a daze. She got Giles to write passes for her to get out of most of her classes and went to the library instead. She poured over every book Giles gave her without saying a word, writing down every fact and shred of information about Diabolique that she could find. Of course, she was hampered by her mono- language capabilities and could only check the English books, but she did what she could. Her thoughts were consumed with Buffy and the girl she had never seen.

Diabolique. What a name. Death. The girl's real name had been Amissa, she learned. Amissa. It was so... so... human sounding. So... real... it meant, she read, 'large-nose' in Gaelic... a variation on the name 'Aise'. She lived in a lower class version of a 'perfect family', with a saintly mother and a loving, honest father. A little brother. She had had a little brother. Dogs. Chickens. This murderous spirit was a person... had a past... lived a life... had died a horrible, horrible death by the hands of vampires, yet she didn't mind the fact that her best friend, Angel, was a vampire with a soul. She had known him as a person and went into hiding when he became a vampire. When he gained his soul, she greeted the world again... a real person, with a real friend. Only one... Willow could understand what it was to go through life with only one friend. Before Buffy had come, Xander had been her only ally... And this girl had been without friends for over 1,200 years... no wonder she was such a monster, wanting to--no, she was just doing her job, taking Buffy away... but Angel? The angel of death wasn't supposed to kill... only lead. So, what was this girl's problem, damn it? What the hell does--okay, calm down Willow. Getting all... hysterical and... bitter won't help find Buffy. The redhead checked her watch.

"Oh, no!" she screamed. "Giles, I've gotta go to English! I've gotta really big test... which Buffy's missing..."

Giles head shifted slightly to the side and Willow took a closer look at him. His head was resting on his book, his eyes were closed, and his glasses were slid up his face onto his forehead. He looked so cute that Willow just didn't want to disturb him. Gathering her books, she tip-toed out, planning on letting the poor, overworked Librarian sleep a few hours before he worked himself to death. Of course, with all the caffinated tea he's been drinking, it's a miracle that he's not up doing the tango with his chair...

Giles was sure that this was a dream. It had to be; real life was simply not this awful. "Please, Buffy," he begged. "Tell me this is a dream."

"Actually," the pleased slayer quipped, "it's more of a nightmare." She led him through the mall, making sure she pointed out all the "cool" fashions to him so that he could get some clothing that was actually made in the last couple decades. "You're saying that you don't even own a pair a sweatpants?"

Giles looked at her nervously. "Buffy, is this really necessary?"

"Giles, buddy, bad news. This _is_ a nightmare." She turned to face him, looking him right in the eye and sighing. "Xander's seen a lot of crazy happenings lately. More than usual. Enough to warrant attention, even from the vampires."

"What are you saying?"

The teen sighed again, pulling Giles to a bench in the middle of the mall. "Look, I don't want you to pull a freaker on me, but I'm not really here."

"What?!?"

"You are dreaming. Your subconscious made me up. I mean," she added hurriedly, "just now. The real me, I mean, Buffy, is in mortal danger. You know, the fatal kind."

Giles sat down on an uncomfortable stone bench, trying to take it all in. "Good Lord, my subconscious has a repetition problem."

She glared at him. "Just remember, it's not the fall that kills you, it's that sudden stop at the end."

Giles looked at 'his Slayer' sarcastically. "Oh, yes, ha-ha, very funny."

"It's not the fall that kills you, it's that sudden stop at the end." The mall turned white and started spinning around them. "You've gotta remember. It's, y'know, important."

"But what does it mean?" cried the slightly panicked Giles, sensing that this was incredibly important.

"You're the Watcher, decrypter of all prophecies. You figure it out." She disappeared along with the rest of his surroundings, spinning into a white nothing.

His last thought was, "Damn. Now I have a cryptic subconscious with a repetition problem."

"Giles! Giles! Wake up!" Xander shook the Librarian from his restless sleep. "Rise 'n shine!"

"What does it mean?" the Brit groaned, lifting his head. "Falling..."

Xander sighed, sitting back. "All right, let's forget the shining part.

"Buffy... a fall..."

Xander patted the incoherent man on the head. "Relax. Everyone has those dreams sometimes."

Giles shook his head, sitting up. "No, no. It was Buffy in my dream. She, uh, she said, 'It's not the fall that kills you, it's that, uh, sudden stop at the end.'"

Xander pursed his lips. "It sounds to me like your dream Buffy's got it in for you. My advice: watch out for really big steps and develop a sudden fear of heights."

The bell rang, signifying the end of school. Giles sat up, eyeing Xander. "Why aren't you in class?"

"School's over!" Xander told him innocently.

Giles rolled his eyes, going with it. "Where's that book...? I have a new lead to check."

Ah, the feel of satin against the skin. So smooth, so comforting... I'm home. Angel woke from his enchanted sleep to find his surroundings as usual. For the most part. "Buffy!" he cried, remembering the past events and sitting up quickly. "I have to... help her!"

He sprang up, flinging a hand that had been resting on his chest over to the side. Feeling the unusual clink of cold silver against his chest, he looked down to identify the necklace.

Picking it up, he twisted it around to get a better look at it. It's an amulet, he realized. An amulet of... chill? But why...? He turned it over to see who made it and was confronted with an unfamiliar symbol burned into the back. It called up a strange sense of deja vu, though he could have sworn that he had never seen it before in his life. His whole life. Odd...

He ran his fingers over the strangely shaped star and felt oddly pacified. Shrugging, he dropped the medal back to his chest, searching for his shirt. Checking the clock, he snarled. It was all ready 20 minutes until sundown... and who knows how many days had gone by while he slept? The phone rang, and he gave up the fox-hunt for his shirt to answer it.

"Hello."

"Angel?!?"

"Yeah?"

"Angel?!? You're alive!" There was a pause. "Well, relatively speaking."

Angel didn't really know how to respond to that. "Yeah?"

"Hey, everybody, Angel's not a pile of vampy dust!" There was some serious commotion on the other end of the line.

"Angel?" A breathless Giles answered the phone.

"What's going on?" a slightly-annoyed Angel asked.

"It's really quite amazing... we still haven't found Buffy, though... we thought you had... disintegrated."

"When? What day is it?"

"Friday--"

"You mean I've been asleep for a week?"

"No," interrupted Giles, "only a day. How did you survive the sunlight on your way home?"

"I don't--" Angel broke off, the reason suddenly coming to him.

They both answered Giles' question at the same time. "Diabolique."

Strong hands were pushing, roughly forcing her wake up. All her muscles ached, and she felt a convulsion in her chest rip its way out in the form of hacking cough. "Whatever you're selling, I don't want any." She coughed again, plainly hearing the fluids and sticky, bad membrane stuff bounce around in her lungs as air pushed its way in and out. How can someone who doesn't breathe be coughing so much? Ouch... thinking makes head hurt.

"Wake up and tell me where Buffy is." The rough voice was hard to her ears, but it reminded her of what that buzzing insistence in the back of her mind was.

"Buffy!" she cried, sitting up. "Woah..." Her vision spun, and she reached up to calm her aching head. "Deja vu..." Slowly, she cracked open her puffy eyes. "Good... evening, Angel. You're looking mighty... chipper..." She leaned back against the wall and shivered, coughing some more.

Angel had to resist cracking her head open against the wall. It won't help; it'll just make a mess. "Where's Buffy?"

"I dunno... let's go look," she slurred, and tried, unsuccessfully, to raise herself from her spot on the bed. And a big, fat zero for mobility. She coughed again, rasping and making big, hollow sounds.

"Where's Buffy?"

"I dunno."

"Where's Buffy?"

Certainly persistent, if slightly obnoxious. "Who?"

Angel couldn't take it anymore. With a face reminiscent of his past evil, he slammed the girl against the wall. "Buffy. The Slayer. Where is she?"

"Angel. Your brain. Where is it?" She spoke as if to a child. "I do not know. Oww," she blinked her eyes, biting her tongue at the pain in her shoulder, "that's gonna hurt later, isn't it?" she groaned.

He eyed her as she shook with a coughing fit. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

She pried her eyes open, dazed, and offered him a weak smile. "Consumption?" she hazarded easily.

He let her go in disgust, pacing back and forth. "Why won't you tell me what the hell is going on?"

She coughed again, wiping her nose on her arm. "Maybe because I don't know what the hell is going on."

"Oh, yeah, I'm really going to believe that--" He was cut off by a knock on the door.

"Angel, are you in there?" It was Xander. "Open up, it's me."

Angel was so mad he practically tore the door off it's hinges. "Hello, Xander."

Xander slowly backed up, putting his hands up. "Not happy to s-see me? Okay, I can take a hint. I'll go."

Diabolique coughed hard, trying to stop him. "No, it's okay, Xander," she finally rasped out. "He's just mad at me."

Xander allowed himself to be cajoled in. "Giles is, too."

She smiled and pulled the blanket around her. "I always say my day's not complete if I haven't ticked off at least five people." Her hand went to the choker at her throat, worrying the blood red gem with her thumb. Hold on, Buffy. I'll find you. I'll ease your pain. Hold onto yourself, and never let go.

Xander looked at his watch. "We'll go out in about 10 minutes, okay? That's sundown."

Diabolique coughed again, trying to rid her lungs of the mucus until her throat hurt. "Angel--eat something before we go, okay? Or you're likely to pass out. The spell I used was sort of draining."

Angel glared at her, just to let her know that he was still angry at her. "Yes, Mom." He practically stomped off to the fridge, calling back a message to the Angel of Death. "Be out of my bed and ready to leave by the time I return."

Diabolique's arms and legs all felt the same: achy. That was the only way to describe it. Well... she could always call it 'sore'... or 'owwwwww!'...

She forced herself to sit up on her own and crawled to the edge of the bed.

Morning person--ha! The other angels would all have a field day with this...

"The one who Slayeth and
The one who Killeth
Will surely meet, and
One will trace their symbol on the other
And Time will stop."

... The 'one who Slayeth', that would be the Slayer, Buffy. The one who Killeth... that would be her, Diabolique. Death. Death is the leading nation-wide killer of all people. She had to smile at that as she attempted to stand up. "Ow, ow!"

Xander reached over to help her. "Here, let me give you a hand..." He gently offered her the support of his arm.

"Thanks." She smiled at him gratefully, leaning heavily on his arm. "We've gotta hurry. Buffy's gonna die if we don't get to her soon."

"Just curiosity, but why do you care?"

"Hey, just 'cause I've worked with death and learned to enjoy it all those years doesn't mean that I want Buffy' death." Her headache was worsening.

"So, you don't want her to die?"

"That's what I've been telling you guys! I want her to live! No one believes me, though, and frankly, I don't blame them. I'd rather be about a quadrillion other places right now." She raised a fist to cover her cough and stumbled, not having enough energy to walk and cough at the same time.

"I feel so... worthless." She turned such an incredibly putrid shade of green that Xander sat her down on Angel's beat up Lazyboy.

He put a hand to her forehead. "You're hot."

She looked away. "No, you're cold. I'm fine." She coughed again, just to illustrate her point. "See?"

Xander put his hand on her arm. It was covered with goosebumps. "I think you should stay in tonight and sleep. We'll get the work done and find Buffy without you just fine."

She shook her head, knowing her message wasn't getting through. "Sure, but will you be able to rescue her? Not a chance. You should stay in, though. In your house. And you shouldn't invite anyone in tonight. You've witnessed me work my magic and resurrect some people. The vamps... they want that, y'know. They need you for a sacrifice, to open the Hellmouth."

Xander stared. "Can they do that?"

She nodded, giving in to her exhaustion and leaning back. "They stole a staff and one of those funny plant things the Eiethan Troop guards. Which is bad, if you were wondering."

"You can barely keep your eyes open, breathe, and walk straight you're so sick, but you want able-bodied me to stay home? Not a chance!"

"Can you do this?" she asked, lifting a weary hand and straining with effort to make it glow.

"No, I think you hold brag rights on that." He stood on one foot. "Can you do this?"

"Touché." She groaned, opening her eyes again. "I thought you'd say as much... and right now, I don't have the strength to argue with you."

He flashed her a charming grin, while still having the strange feeling he hadn't really won. "Good. Now, let's get ready to go before Angel bites your head off for not being ready."

Xander eyed Diabolique as Angel helped her put on one of his leather jackets. Reaching into his pocket, the teen felt the small charm he had stolen from Giles' office. If the angel tried anything, he'd use it against her. He swore it. Of course, if the vampires tried anything... well, that was a different matter all together.

The trio marched resolutely through the shadows, two of the figures making no noise as they walked, and the third making up for them entirely. Xander wasn't the quietest person, and that ticked the dead girl and guy off. The vamps were gonna hear him from a mile away... There goes the element of surprise...

Diabolique's coughs she muted, trying as hard as she could to make them sound like the wind. As they approached the building that Willow had identified as the hideout, they unconsciously huddled closer together, and the girl's coughing almost ceased altogether.

Suddenly, they were set upon by a group of vampires. Angel and Diabolique fought, but Xander had to be dragged away, unconscious, by a group of vamps under strict orders not to damage him. By the time the undead pair of the trio could react, it was too late.

And then there were two.

So they set out again, keeping the slow pace they had taken up before to keep Diabolique from giving them away by hacking up her lungs under the bright moon. Diabolique felt her throat tighten, and bent to one knee under the force of her burning throat. Angel, pausing to turn and check on her, felt the ground crumble slightly under his feet...

"Wha--" Thump. A sliding sound as he was sucked into the hideout.

And then there was one.

Falling down onto both her knees, Diabolique murmured something--a prayer?--and slid to the ground. The night was still around her; not even the insects and birds made noise. The moon was half gone, but the white light hit the air angrily, giving the landscape a bleak, stark look.

And, suddenly, there was an Angel in the moonlight. He was beautiful, dark and mystical. Lightly, his bare feet rested on the cold ground, and he reached down to the fallen woman with one luminescent hand. "Diabolique."

Faintly, she stirred at his touch, but once again fell lax.

He frowned, but on him it shone like a smile. With graceful, gentle hands, he rolled the limp body over onto her back. Her wan lips were red with blood, and she lay still in the dirt. The Angel shook his head, kindly, and cupped her bloody, dirty face with one large, strong hand. "Not yet. It shall not happen yet." He pushed back a strand of brownish hair that had fallen from her painfully tight braid. "Soon, but not yet."

"An-gel, An-gel... An-gel's come to join the par-ty," Drusilla murmured in her thick, crazy cockney to the Slayer before her. "Maybe he'll bring me a present..."

Buffy looked up at the vampire with tired eyes. Blood ran down her face, mingled with tears; the first tears that she had shed since being dragged to this God-forsaken hideout of the vampires were not for herself. No, the poor girl prayed to every God she could think of in every religion and language she knew, let Angel be safe.

When her boyfriend was unceremoniously dumped next to her, also chained with a medieval-looking set of chains, she used all her strength to reach out to him. Their hands stretched for each other. If they could but touch, it seemed, everything would be okay... but the unmerciful vampires had placed them just out of reach of each other.

Suddenly, Angel recoiled from her, clutching at his back in agony. Drusilla, grinning, poured a little more holy water down his back, giggling at his hoarse screams. Buffy tried to move her wrists again, her mind working furiously to figure out how to save Angel, but Dru alternated the torture, bringing the whip firmly down on the Slayer's side. The big log in the center of the room was a center of activity, and a body was carefully secured to the post. "Xander..." Buffy moaned in realization as there was a hiss from the side and Angel screamed again.

Logs smelling of kerosene were brought forth and placed artistically around Xander. The young man, waking to the smell of fire, screamed.

Screams filled the air as the fire burned closer to Xander, holy water gushed onto Angel, and Buffy felt the sting of the whip for what felt like the millionth time in the past few days.

A breath of wind rushed through the room, and the flames around Xander went out. The whip slapping Buffy was torn from it's owner's grasp and thrown across the room. The bottle of holy water broke and spilled all over the vampire who had been pouring.

A hush fell over the crowd of vampires, about 20 in all. They looked to Dru and Spike for help on what to do.

Spike shrugged. "I guess this is destiny's way of telling us to kill Buffy first. A pity; I wanted her to see her friends die slowly before her, but maybe with the next Slayer." He raised his hand, motioning for a vampire to come forward with a knife.

The vampire smiled and walked forward, only to fall into a heap of dust. Buffy and Angel shared a confused glance.

"No one messes with my Slayer."

Spike looked around. "Who said that?"

A lone figure jumped down from the high ledge and landed lightly. "I should have killed you when I had the chance." The girl's voice was cold and hard.

Drucilla's mouth corners tugged up into a smile, and she walked over to her boyfriend. "This is the one, Spike. I can feel her power."

Spike eyed her. "I dunno, love, she looks awfully scrawny."

Diabolique decided that she was wasting precious time, picked up a stake, and rammed it into a vampire's heart. Pulling it out of the ashes on the floor, she jammed it into another undead heart, fighting her way over to Buffy and Angel.

Drusilla watched the girl fight and hung onto Spike, drawing him back. "She's a Slayer, love. She's a very old Slayer... Oh, my roses..." she moaned as a table holding a pot of Black Peruvian roses was tipped over. The pot fell to the ground and cracked, commanding her attention.

"Burn!" Diab yelled, pointing at it, and it burst into flames.

Xander watched the plant burn nervously, hoping the kerosene wouldn't catch again.

Out of the corner of her eye, Diabolique saw Drucilla and Spike start to sneak out the door. That made her mad. "No."

Spike looked back nervously. "No?"

"No. I'm not done with you yet." She ran and jumped, flipping over a quite a few piles of ash. Pulling a stake out, she rammed it into Drusilla's chest. Drusilla barely had time to gasp before she melted into a pile of ash.

"My God! You killed Dru! Bit--" She pulled out another stake and threw herself at him, waiting for him to open up.

It was over quickly, a small pile of ash at her feet. She rushed over to Buffy, gently probing her stomach for internal bleeding.

"Hey!" Xander yelled from his pole. "What about me?"

Reaching down, Diabolique pulled a small knife out of her shoe and, without looking, threw it backwards. It landed on his bonds next to his wrist, slicing the ropes. With a yelp, he slid to the ground. Touching Buffy's wrists, the chains fell away.

"Cool..." Buffy murmured, slumping over.

"Buffy? Buffy?" Diabolique cried, shaking her a little. "Buffy, no!"

From where she was, she felt Xander pulling the charm out of his pocket. "Puny trinket," she said coldly. "Shatter." The tiny charm quivered and broke into a million tiny pieces. A gust of wind swept through the room again and took many of the pieces with it. It had taken her a while to figure out that that damn charm was what was in his pocket. He had kept putting his hand in his pocket, and... she hadn't known what to think. Shattering the charm was simple, and it restored her Buffy radar. She could find her Slayer again... not that she was going to let the girl out of her sight. Ever. The Slayer's privacy was no longer approved. Buffy's pulse was so weak... Diabolique stretched her wings out, leaning over to pick up Buffy. "Buffy..."

Buffy opened her eyes, looking only at Diabolique.

"Come with me," she whispered.

Buffy put her hand into Diabolique's small one, and understanding passed through them. "Yes... I will join you."

"Buffy--no!" Angel cried, straining to stand, to reach either of them, to just break the eerie spell around them.

Diabolique bent and picked up Buffy's body, cradling it in her arms. Her black wings flexed, and the two girls flew away through the wall.

Xander and Angel were the only two people left to stare, horrified, as they left.

In the library, two lone figures sat, hunched over the books. "Oh, dear."

"What is it?"

"I seem to have interpreted this all wrong."

"What?"

"The prophecy. Diabolique--she was once an Angel of Death. Not any more."

"Oh. That's a good thing, right?"

"Yes, yes indeed. Very good, in fact."

A pause. "What is she?

"Buffy's Guardian."

"Yes," a new voice entered the conversation. They looked up to see a dark man standing by the window, almost incandescent in the moonlight. "The Guardians were upset after she died and came back again. Too much paperwork. He decided that He needed to prevent this sorta thing from ever happening again." He smiled. "Do not fear her abrasive ways. She is harmless to your kind." In a moment, he was gone.

Another pause. "God's really a 'He'?"

Buffy was laid lightly on her bed. The winged one gently traced a symbol, a rune of some sort, on the sick one's forehead, and sat back. The two looked at each other sleepily, and the Slayer closed her eyes. The one with wings shrunk until she became a dog. She jumped up and landed next to Buffy. Curling up on the girl's side, she slept lightly, humming a pretty tune.

Buffy woke the next morning to a warm tounge bath. "Eww..."

The dog sat down and thumped its tail on the bedspread. "Woof!"

Buffy groaned. "How did you get in here? Did I leave the door open? Mom's gonna kill me!"

The dog yawned, still looking at her. "I used a window, actually," it answered, "but you probably don't remember that part. You were pretty out of it."

Buffy blinked. "You talked."

"I am a talking dog. It helps."

"A talking dog."

"Or your Guardian. Pick a card, any card."

"You mean, last night wasn't some weird dream? There really are kids with wings out there fighting for me? I was really looking forward to telling Giles about this one. He'd have a field day."

"No, only one... and you still can tell Giles about it... I'm looking forward to the reaction."

Buffy rolled her eyes and lay back down, pulling the covers with her. "I think I'm going crazy. I'm talking to a dog."

Diabolique followed her example. "And I'm talking to the Slayer. I can't believe I agreed to this job."

"I dunno... I think it's gonna be kinda fun..."

"Bite me."

Angel just stared at the door. Sit and stare. Sit and stare. He couldn't believe that no one had come to free him. He was still locked in this damn chains. Not that it mattered. He couldn't go home in the sun, anyway. So, he simply sat and stared at the wall. Sit and stare. Sit and stare. Ah, his shoulders hurt... quite a lot, in fact. Buffy was probably dead, and he wasn't getting any blood soon, so he was going to be dead soon... he wished he had taken the time to drink some blood when they were home when Diabolique told him too... it was starting to sound like a better and better suggestion as the day went on--but no.

Thinking about food only made him hungrier. I hope Buffy's okay... She better be okay, or I'm taking it out of my angel-friend's hide. He rattled the chains once more for good measure, and sat there, staring at the wall. Sit and stare. Sit and stare. Sit and stare.

Buffy had a real sleep... filled with dreams that confused her. Sacred duty, yadda, yadda, yadda... She was in a dark place, filled with ash. Angel was there, and he was chained up, weak... hungry. Her eyes jumped open, and she sat up quickly, knocking a sleeping dog off her lap. "Angel!"

The dog tried to look nonchalant and gave up, knowing that was more cat-style. "What?"

"No, not you," Buffy jumped out of bed, pulling a sweatshirt over her head and sweatpants over her shorts. "Angel-Angel!"

"What about him?"

"Where is he?"

"Oh. I, uh, guess I, uh, left him... mmdawerhas." she muttered something.

"What?"

"You're my first priority, not him! And, I could have taken him, but weighs, like, 200 pounds."

"No, 'what' as in I couldn't understand what you were saying--but, now, What?!?"

"...I left him at the warehouse." She gave a doggie look of embarrassment.

"That is unacceptable!" Buffy cried, only a teensy bit amused. "Bad dog! Bad!"

"Your mother hasn't seen you for a few days, so maybe you should say 'hi' and introduce your pet first... Angel's not going anywhere."

Calming down, Buffy nodded. "Good idea." Buffy finished putting on her raggedy old tennis shoes and skipped down the stairs to greet her mother. "Hi mom!"

"Buffy, good morning... you have a dog."

"Oh, yeah. He--she followed me home. Can I keep her?"

"Okay... Mom, I've gotta run... I forgot to take care of something..." She gave her mother a quick hug, nearly knocking her over. "Come on, uh... I've gotta think of a name... Fido?"

The dog whimpered, following. When they were safely out of the house, the dog looked at Buffy reproachfully. "I'm not going by 'Fido'. Or 'Rover.'"

Buffy started a light jog. "So, what's your name? 'Diabolique' is pretty strange for a dog. It's just gonna feed my mom's shrink more info about me."

Diabolique thought and ran quickly at the same time. "Hmm... well, 'Diabolique' was my name when I was the Angel of Death--"

"When you were the WHAT?!?" Buffy stopped running to stare at the little gray dog.

"You didn't--Oh, that's right. You were chained to the wall at the time. I, uh, used to be the Angel of Death. I was reassigned!" she insisted, starting to walk again. "I was reassigned. I just, I was really good at that job... and I didn't want to be moved... you know, you're not really, uh, popular in heaven."

"I'm not?"

"Yeah, uh, no one wanted this job. That's why I'm here; I was the only one left... and they practically had to force me to take it. Then, I really messed up: I lost you. I was sure someone was gonna come down and tell me that everyone was really disgusted with me, 'cause I managed to lose my subject on my first run. Not terribly impressive, I'm afraid."

"But, you found me, so everything's okay, right?" Buffy, for some reason, was anxious for her Guardian not to be replaced.

"I hope so. I don't need anyone else mad at me."

"We're getting off the subject." They rounded the corner to Angel's apartment. "Which I remember as simply being, 'what do you want to be called?'"

"Well, choosing a name is really difficult. You wanna make sure you like it, because you're gonna be stuck with it for the rest of your life, but you just don't know what you'll wanna be called for that long." They came to the door and tried the handle. "Locked."

Buffy shrugged. "So I'll owe him another door lock. What's one or two locks in the door of life?" She broke it and the door swung open.

"One or two locks in the door of life is still one or two locks. Oh, well... we'll just tell him that it was all ready open... I guess..." The dog trotted over to the refrigerator and waited for Buffy to open it. "Hmm... get him a couple AB's and an O... maybe just a regular B, too."

"Okay... that's two ABs, one O, and a B. Do you want fries with that?"

The little gray dog turned to go. "If I could carry them, I'd say 'sure'."

They started walking towards the warehouse, Buffy getting more and more quiet as they walked. When they arrived in front of the door, Buffy and her dog exchanged a glance. "If we open the door, he might get caught in the sun."

Angel could here voices outside the door. He knew, though, that if the people came in, he would have a Helluva time explaining why he was chained to a wall and couldn't leave. Just open the door. Open the door and kill me. Please. He slumped there, wishing again that Xander had thought to free him before he had left.

"Maybe we should just open the door."

"Pick me up."

"What?"

Buffy reached down and gently lifted the tiny dog into her arms. "Okay, now what?"

"Walk through the wall."

"'Scuze me?"

"Go ahead. I'll phase us." Hopefully. I'll look really stupid if this doesn't work.

Buffy, shrugging, walked through the wall. It felt odd to phase through something, kind of like walking through paper. Standing on the other side, she took her flashlight out of her purse and flicked it on moving it around. "Angel!"

"Buffy... Buffy?" He looked surprised to see her. "You should be at home... resting."

"She was worried, so we thought we might come visit you." The dog sat down and looked at Angel curiously.

"A talking dog?!? I must be hallucinating. I didn't know vampires could hallucinate."

As he babbled on about "Talking dogs" and "Stupid vampires with souls", Buffy leaned over to talk to her dog. "I don't remember him ever acting like this before."

"The idiot hasn't eaten for a while. Undo his chains--here, let me--and give the poor guy some food." She trotted closer and started licking his face. "Calm down, Angel. Stop squirming." She began to melt his chains.

"Diabolique?"

"Not anymore. Hold still, kid!" Soon, he was all done. Rubbing his wrists, he looked at Buffy, crouched beside him.

"Here," she told him, pulling out the B packet. "Drink this."

He looked at her, unbelievingly, and sunk his fangs into the packet, draining it. "You took your time," he said, greedily grabbing another packet of blood.

"Angel, you've got a little shmutz on your chin."

Angel guiltily rubbed his chin with the back of his hand, reaching for the B packet.

"Not so fast. Finish your AB first." She turned back to Buffy, who was stifling a giggle. "Feel free to laugh at him. I do all the time."

Buffy shrugged as Angel bit his blood packet hard to get every last drop out. "Thanks, I think."

"Shmutz."

"Yeah, yeah."