Buffy stared out into the city lights from her dimly lit hotel room. She knew Angel was trying to locate her, trying to do all he could to stop her.
They had a connection. He was just too stupid to realize that he couldn’t save her.
No one could.
That’s why she never understood why Willow brought her back. If her best friend had focused on more important things than bringing her back from the great beyond, maybe Tara would still be alive today.
Buffy turned her head away. She couldn’t think like that anymore. Death was a part of her, just like it was a part of everyone else. Maybe more so, in her case.
She walked slowly back into her hotel room and focused on the scattered items on the countertop. She had gotten her supplies long before coming to Los Angeles.
If Angel and Crew were trying to find out where she had gotten her majicks at, they’d fail. Not even Giles, her beloved Watcher knew.
She still didn’t know why he was helping Angel. Giles had always hated him, even before Jenny came into the picture. ‘Course, it didn’t help that he killed her, but that was the past.
She’d failed him and herself.
She opened the spell book and flipped to the bookmarked page. It was ironic, wasn’t it, that the ritual she needed was in the very book that first predicted her death?
She lit the candles and placed them around in a circle. She sat in the middle of the circle and started to recite the ritual written in Latin to English:
“Spirits of the Dead,
I call thee
Take my sacrifice of soul
And place it into the body with a gaping hole
Let what is done come undone
Let what is done come undone
Come undone!”
Buffy felt the life moving out of her body. She laughed a hollow laugh. She didn’t even hear anyone bursting through the door.
“Buffy!” Angel called, as he cradled her body on his lap.
“Angel?” she blinked, looking up at him.
“What did you do?” he snapped at her.
“Hey, don’t cry.” She murmured. “Those better be happy tears. See, this way, everyone wins. You get your friend and your humanity back.”
“Don’t talk like that.” he shook his head. “I won’t let you die.”
“Oh, my Angel.” She pressed her palm to his cheek. “You can’t save me. I’m sorry. Goodbye.”
Then Buffy Summers took in her last breath.
“No, no!” Angel cried. “No. Don’t you take her from me! Don’t fucking take her from me!”
“It’s over, mate.” Spike put on hand on his grandsire’s shoulder.
“Spike, get away.” Angel growled. “I want to see Wesley right away. He’s going to put Fred’s newfound soul back in her body, even if it kills them in the process.”