HOLD ME - PART TWO

By Susan MD (smvd@att.net)
Spoilers: Takes place after Season 5’s episode "Intervention"
Characters: Buffy, Giles with cameo appearances by Willow, Xander, Dawn, & Tara
Rating: FRT (fan rating for teenagers) only because of the dark mood of this piece. There are no language, violence or sexual content that might offend.
Warning: Angst
Distribution: Just let me know so I can visit.
Disclaimer: I don't claim any rights of ownership to characters, names, etc. Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and Fox own everything. I’ve written this purely for personal entertainment purposes and receive no compensation.
Feedback: All feedback gratefully accepted including constructive criticism
Summary: Buffy finds herself trapped in a place that parallels her emotional state and she doesn’t like it, even with Giles there to help.
My thanks to Vatwoman and Head Rush for beta work, excellent suggestions, and many kind words of encouragement.

* * *

They stood at opposite ends of the cave for a time, although it didn’t put much distance between them. Buffy looked up at the sky. She missed the glittering fairies. The bright expanse seemed to taunt her as the sun illuminated the perfect blueness.

Giles squinted up at the light then removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes only to gasp as he unwittingly ground grit into them. She turned to the noise just as he reached into his pocket and found it was empty. She watched him make a wasted attempt to clean his glasses on a shirttail.

Itchy skin and sandpaper eyes, she knew the feeling. Pulling the forgotten handkerchief from her pocket she stared at it, then wiped her dirt-covered hands. Nothing was free of the prickly gritty discomfort any longer.

He glanced at her and thought about things he could say, but all his words felt empty like one of those saccharin-laden drinks that never quench a thirst. He edged closer, testing her tolerance for him. She felt his movement and her look told him to stay away. He replied with a nod imperceptible to anyone but those who knew him well.

* * *

Sitting. Time passed, slow and dull, leaving gaping holes of nothing to do. The long silences between them had stopped being awkward hours ago. She tilted her head and cocked her ear. For a moment she heard the calming vibrations of the ocean. Or was it the earth inhaling, gathering up force to exert its brutal power again? Her momentary hope of escape when she found the cave had turned to panic at being forever trapped. Giles had done his best to convince her they’d get out, but doubt attacked at regular intervals, like now.

She jumped up and lunged at the rock pile blocking her way out, her way to Dawn, her way back to life. Wrapping her arms around a rock, she wrestled and strained until finally a clump of dust pulled free. She held it in her hand and watched it crumble apart, sifting through her fingers to merge with the pulverized dirt floor. Sweat turned her dusty coating into mud, until it dried again adding a crackled layer to her skin. She looked down at her arms and shivered at the eerily familiar site. The first Slayer had been caked in dried mud. She pushed out of her mind the words that echoed and her breath came hard as fear and anger fueled attacks on the barrier, her fingers prying at the wall, until they were raw and bloodied.

"Buffy."

She didn’t even hear him. It took all her focus to keep at it. She fell to her knees, picking her way through the accumulation of pebbles looking for a way.

Giles moved to her side and spoke gently. "Buffy, let me help you, please." They both knew what he meant. That it didn’t have anything to do with digging out of this cave.

She didn’t look at him when she responded, "There’s nothing you know how to do." He knew that the bitterness in her voice reflected her pain and the longer it remained the harder it would be to fight. He knew that, but he didn’t know what to do about it.

* * *

Standing now. A little variety is nice, she thought, as more hours passed.

She thought about what she should be doing on the outside, and as the panic rose she focused on taking a shallow breath; her interior squeezed and shrunk a little more. She slowly walked the length of the room. Leaning against the wall opposite, not 15 feet away, Giles sat motionless, watching her. They were both stuck in this cave but she was the one truly trapped, he knew. Pent up emotion with no place to go. Her brittleness more evident as they lingered in this hole. Her face mimicked the stone: frozen, immovable, void of emotion. It looked as if it might crack if she changed expression.

He could do nothing but grieve for her...and worry. Was she getting smaller? Was her dry outer covering shrinking? He looked over at her forgotten bottle of water lying near the wall.

"Buffy, you should drink."

"I’m not thirsty."

"You look dry."

"I’m fine; I can take it."

"But the point is you don’t have to."

* * *

Pacing. A third option had opened itself up to her. Sitting, standing, and now pacing.

Trickles of dust drifted downward from time to time with a laziness that saturated the air.

Leaning against a wall, Giles watched her move as she attempted to lessen her anxiety, again and again, in the methodical trance-like pace that one uses when lost in their own universe of worry.

Tense, withdrawn and world weary. Grief had taken root in her. It grew, feeding on her pain, rising up through the layers of emotions and now it wanted out, wanted to be seen, to be acknowledged, but she held it inside. It fought her, eating its way to the edges, hollowing her out to a thin layer ready to crack at the merest breeze. She built thicker walls to keep it in, fearing the worst if it ever broke the surface, shattering her to useless pieces. Grief wouldn’t give up and it was leaving nothing inside, just as she secretly wanted. No pain, nothing left to feel anymore.

She looked at him and caught his expression. A subtle, irate flicker of her hand deflected his questioning look. "Giles, I’ve got a lot of stuff to deal with, I can’t take you pushing me too."

"I know exactly what you’ve got to deal with and I’m trying to help you, if you’ll let me."

"What do you know?" she muttered, her eyes busy and razor-like as if drawn with a too-sharp pencil.

The frustration of watching her refuse help pushed him to his own edge. Some of the thoughts he’d been holding inside poured out. "Other than that the fate of the world depends on you? I know that after a frightening illness, which you thought was over, your mother suddenly died, leaving you with the responsibility of caring for a younger sister, a sister who is a mystical energy source that could destroy the world. I know there is a hell God trying to take that sister from you for her own evil purpose. I know Angel showed up for one night to comfort you and succeeded in pushing your feelings into greater turmoil. I know a neutered vampire has declared his love for you and refuses rejection." He took a breath as he calmed. "I know vampires continue to rise nightly...and...I know your father hasn’t returned your calls."

The more he said the closer he got to the epicenter of her pain, the raw place that her fear was protecting. "I know," his voice softened to a feather touch, "that you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and that you feel utterly and completely alone with it."

Buffy’s jaw muscle worked hard while her mouth remained closed tight, staring at Giles, hating him right then, for this way that he could see into her.

* * *

Buffy picked up a small stone, one with a sharp edge and began tapping against the rock interior. The repeated collisions chipped away pieces of the wall.

Giles had been watching her surreptitiously for some time but his gaze became obvious now. The tapping, followed by screeches that made his skin shiver as she scored the wall, rock against rock, pushed him to say something. It occurred to him she might think she could signal someone outside the cave, if there were someone. "Buffy, there’s no one other than us to hear."

She held her breath for an instant wanting to ignore him, and leaned her head sullenly against the wall as she continued her quiet attack on the rock face. "I know that," she said, finally letting out her breath.

"Then what are you trying to accomplish? Or are you just whiling away the hours making noises reminiscent of fingernails on a chalkboard?"

"I’m scratching our names and today’s date into the rock."

Giles suddenly found this comforting, in an odd way. She was doing something very human and almost adolescent, a ‘we were here’ type moment.

Buffy continued in a monotone voice. "And I’m going to put a slash for each day we’re stuck here. That way when someone eventually finds our lifeless, decayed, dried up corpses they’ll know who we were and they’ll be able to figure out the day we died so they can get it right on our tombstones."

Comfort turned to a shudder. He rose and moved to her side where he rested his hand over hers, stilling her movement. Her hand was cold. "I think you may be overreacting, don’t you?"

Her eyes flicked to him and back to the wall. She pulled her hand from his and resumed her work.

Giles leaned against the cool surface, closed his eyes and listened, although in reality, he didn’t have to listen because the sound vibrated through his head like a slow drill. The internal debate that engaged him didn’t persuade him one way or the other. Which was worse: the noise she was making or her abject silence without it?

* * *

A knife-edged shaft of light beamed through the skylight creating an oval spotlight on the ground. The light spilled further into the room with a diffuse effect. The distinct oval moved slowly throughout the afternoon as the earth drifted toward evening. They both knew that eventually the sun would sink lower than the mountain and the oval would disappear.

The lines around his eyes were accentuated by embedded dust and dirt. The compassion in his eyes pained her most of all. She watched him sitting quietly in her tomb: with her, for her, like an oasis, a caring, living, breathing respite. If she took refuge with him how could she possibly survive this desert of grief again? She knew she’d have to return to it alone.

He stood and moved toward her ignoring her obvious wish to be left alone.

"Buffy...?"

"Giles, don’t be nice to me. I can’t take you being nice to me right now." He quietly stepped back, never taking his eyes from her.

"It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t mean for this to happen." He wasn’t certain if she was speaking to him or herself; her voice was quiet and her face turned away. "I just wanted to get out of the light for a little while...just wanted to..."

"Escape?" He considered his words carefully. "It’s not my intent to hurt you. I only want to help. Acknowledging your pain is an important step in the grieving process."

"So you think forcing the issue is going to help?"

"I’m not trying to force you to feel things you aren’t ready to feel. I was just hoping to present you with a safe place to…"

"Safe?"

"Well, by safe I meant a place where you didn’t feel the pressures of being the Slayer or a protective big sister, where no demands would be placed upon you. Somewhere you could just slow down and *be*…at least for a few hours."

"That’s sort of what I was trying to say when I told you I wanted to step back from Slaying. Then you came up with that whole quest thing."

"Yes, I know. And I’m sorry it didn’t work out as we’d hoped."

Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, she threw her shoulders back and took a deep breath, bolstering herself and forced a false aura of resolve. "Not your fault. I’m the Slayer. Can’t exactly take a sabbatical, especially now with Glory sniffing around." She met his eyes directly. "So what’s the plan? I mean what is it I’m supposed to do that will help?"

No response from Giles urged her on. "See...you’re clueless too."

"Not clueless...just..."

"British."

A hint of a sad smile crossed his lips as he looked at her. "I do actually have a thought, it’s just...difficult."

"Cause it’s me."

"No, because of me. Years of training, generations of time-honored tradition of non-expression."

"That old repression thing again."

"Yes, that."

"Well, you better take your shot, Giles. I don’t know how long I can hold onto this fake ‘let’s go for it’ attitude. Look at it this way; we’re on a mountain, in a cave in the middle of nowhere. Nobody’s here, nobody cares what we do. That’s what you wanted wasn’t it? You wanted me to get a break from being the Slayer. Well, now you can take a break from being British." Surprise flashed through him. She continued, "So what do I do? You said you know…so tell me what to do."

He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Cry?" He knew that was what he wanted to say but it came out more as a question, more of a suggestion to offer her.

She stared at him for a long moment, sorting through the confusion, before asking, "And while I’m doing that what do you do?"

He shoved his dusty hands into his equally dusty pockets and shrugged slightly. "Hold you?"

Buffy raised her eyebrows in surprise; this wasn’t what she’d expected from him. "And that’s supposed to be productive? I’ve got this evil thing chasing down my sister and you want me to take time out to cry like a little girl? Phff."

"Buffy, it won’t fix everything but it might help you to feel better, more settled and able to focus on Glory."

Buffy studied him. "One problem." Giles raised his brow in a familiar questioning look. "I don’t feel like crying. I don’t feel much of anything, except irritation at being stuck in this cave. And anyway, crying isn’t for me. I don’t think Slayers are supposed to cry. It’s probably written somewhere in that handbook I never got."

She moved away and he watched her shoulders drop, weary from the effort of the past few minutes.

* * *

Giles didn’t know how long he’d been staring at the steady drip, drip, drip of sand falling over the edge of a small outcrop of rock near him. Each grain going over pulled the one behind it on an unseen string. If one went, they all went. It was the sound of Buffy moving that jostled him from his trance. He stretched, easing cramped muscles and resisted the urge to rub his eyes as he looked at her. She was staring at the wall.

A thin silvery light shimmered in a small crevice in the rock face. She’d been watching it quietly for a time then stood and moved close to investigate. He couldn’t see anything. Concerned, he moved near to her, where she was studying what turned out to be life and death in action. She stepped back and watched the drama play itself out, a spider stalking a fly ensnared in the threads of a web. The fly fought the deceptively delicate strands, strong as the thickest rope, sticky with the treacle that enticed the insect to it, until finally the two natural enemies faced off.

Without taking her eyes from the confrontation she asked, "Which one am I, Giles, the spider or the fly?"

It was a rhetorical question, he knew, but it didn’t keep him from reaching his hand to her shoulder. She dodged his touch and lifted her boot at the same time, stomping down on the spider web ending the battle.

"I win," she said with resignation in her voice.

* * *

Sitting and tapping. Possibly an entire new hobby, she thought. She was tapping her fingernail against a small rock, gently as if it was fragile and might fracture like a tiny bird’s eggshell.

She stopped tapping and moved into the warm sun raining down from the skylight above. Giles stood near her but outside the circle of light, allowing her to bask in it alone. The hardness seemed to fall away as she looked at the patch of blue so far above them.

Her voice was soft and far away. "What time do you think it is?"

It took barely a second for him to reply. "5:41."

She looked at him, puzzled at his confident and precise answer that had pulled her from her reverie. "How can you be that exact?"

Giles raised his arm turning his wrist to her. "I have my watch."

"Oh." The voice quieted again. He saw the tinge of disappointment cross her face as she spoke. "I guess we aren’t that far from civilization after all. I should have figured you’d have your watch."

He moved into the light and searched the sky for the sun. "It’s been a while, but I once was fairly accurate at determining the time from the sun’s position." He smiled down at her still furrowed brow. "Boy Scouts."

"They have Boy Scouts in England?"

"The Boy Scouts originated in England."

"Hmm, didn’t know that." Her voice was unexpectedly light for a moment, in a way he’d not heard since Joyce’s death. "I was in the Girl Scouts back in L.A. Mom was the..." She stopped abruptly. A sudden cry of a flock of crows called out and she looked up just as their collective shadow engulfed her in gray. Giles watched the gloom descend across her face and the pensive look return. She stepped back away from him and into the dimness of the cave.

"Death is my gift."

"What?" He asked, certain he’d misheard.

Her voice shifted to the dull, detached tone she’d been using so frequently. "Death is my gift. I’m full of love. Love is pain." As she recited the litany from memory her eyes traced the path the sun took from the skylight to the ground, then to Giles.

"Is that what she told you, the spirit guide?"

"Death is my gift. Nifty, huh? Just what I always wanted."

"Buffy, what..."

"I asked her if it was a gift that I give or one I was going to be given. She didn’t answer. Either way, it’s my gift."

"Buffy, that’s..." He hesitated, caught in the significance of the words. "Those are powerful words. We need to determine..."

She interrupted him. "Before you get too excited about the meaning behind the meaning stuff I think it’s pretty obvious what she meant. After all, it’s sort of in the job title. Slayer. She who slays. Kills things dead. Death."

"On the surface maybe, but there’s..."

She interrupted him again. "Giles, I’ve perpetually got something in my crosshairs or I’m in someone else’s. Say it with me...death."

He wouldn’t allow himself to be dissuaded by her single-mindedness. "There’s certain to be more meaning. Once I research..." He took in her pointed look of resignation. "What about the other statements, we need to think of this as a whole."

"You mean the ‘I’m full of love...Love is pain’ stuff? Pretty clear-cut to me. *I’m* full of love. Love is pain. Ergo, I’m full of pain. And to top it off, death is my gift. It all fits into in a nice neat fluffy-Buffy package. This is my life." She turned her back to him as she claimed it as her destiny. Death.

She felt Giles reach toward her, attempting one of those comforting gestures she could no longer tolerate as if instinct told her she was so infinitely brittle that even a small touch could break her. She shrank from him and he retracted his hand. Another bird screeched overhead, a piercing shriek that drove a wedge into one of the fractures inside of her, splintering her thought and along with it the emotion. She was grateful. Smaller emotions were manageable. She could block them, push them aside, and entomb them like one of those ageless insects trapped in resin and buried in the earth to be discovered a millennium later as a small, hard rock with a dead thing inside.

* * *

The cave was darker now. The sun hadn’t set but it was below the mountain and shed no direct light inside, as the space seemed to close in on them. Birds had been screeching overhead for what seemed like hours. Mostly single birds, but some pairs and the occasional flock. It was like a scene out of that Hitchcock movie, she thought. What was going on out there in the world to cause such a commotion, or was the world always like this? Giles barely noticed them.

Buffy sat with her body clutched tightly, arms and legs drawn up, holding herself in and keeping the world out. Giles slid down the wall until he was seated next to her on the floor, not touching, but close enough to share body heat. She stood and moved away. The meaning was clear to him. Her body language all day long had screamed ‘stay away, I don’t want your help.’ The hours alone with her had become torturous. He was wrung out and drained of ideas. How do you get through to someone who didn’t want to be gotten through to? He rose and moved next to her, wanting to speak, not knowing what to say and hoping the words would come when needed.

But before she was able to move away from him, the earth rumbled, a small shudder lasting only a few seconds. She gasped and instinctively reached out to him as he did to her, hands meeting in midair, fingers intertwining, anchoring one another. Dirt fragments fell from the cave ceiling. They waited it out for a few seconds, still holding on as it quieted. Buffy was the first to pull her hand away, but Giles wouldn’t let her go. "Just a small aftershock," she said as her eyes clouded over hard and gray, trying to distance herself once again.

"No." His hand held onto hers. "Buffy, I’m not letting go. I’m not leaving. I don’t care what you think you want or need." He spoke with the raw voice of emotion.

She raised her head to meet his eyes and wore the frozen stare one took on while trying not to cry, trying not to concede to the emotion tearing at the edge of everything. Her glare reached into him like tentacles wrapping his nerve endings. He wavered, then gave in to his deeper instincts, ignoring that she’d pushed him away at every turn that day. He pulled her to him. She shuddered and closed in on herself tighter. Holding her close he felt her pain as if a hundred tiny knives dug into him. Escape was all she wanted but he wouldn't let her. The more she tried to pull away the harder he wrapped his arms around her. Each knew Buffy was the stronger and should have been able to pull from his grasp, but she couldn't. It frightened her as much as anything had that day. It had been a struggle for survival and now she knew she'd lost. No matter how hard she'd tried to keep herself together it still wasn't enough. Nothing worked. There was no point in fighting any longer. So she stopped.

The shaking came first, then a pain filled gasp of realization forced out the first tear. It ran down her face leaving a mud trace like a crack in the earth's crust. As the tears came stronger the sharp edges eased slowly and her body softened against his while he rocked her ever so gently. Soon her cries drowned out the silence until all that was left were shoulders heaving with each cleansing sob as the force of memory pulled the pain from her and her grief found acknowledgment.

* * *

EPILOGUE:

"Dawnie, slow down! You’ll get hurt," Willow shouted.

Dawn stopped and turned to Willow several yards behind her on the trail. "How far up do I go? Where did the locator spell put them?"

"Here, someplace." Willow stretched out her arms. "I couldn’t tell precisely."

"Giles’ car at the bottom of the mountain was sort of a clue, don’t you think?" Xander added.

"Well, yeah, but the spell helped." Willow frowned at him, hurt by his sarcasm.

"I know." Xander looked at her with his ‘I’m sorry’ expression that only she could read. "I’m just worried, Will, like all of us. Just saying stupid stuff to let out the tension. And hey, look, at least the sun’s beginning to make an entrance. We can actually see and maybe stop tripping over stuff followed by almost careening over the edge to our untimely deaths."

Tara touched Xander’s arm lightly. "It’ll be all right. I know we’ll find them." She squinted up ahead. "And hopefully we won’t lose Dawn along the way. Dawn, where are you?"

"Here!!" Dawn screeched causing Xander to shudder involuntarily. "Here! They’re here!"

The three ran to catch up to her. Xander was the first and found Dawn standing in the middle of the trail bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Here, Xander, they’re here!"

Xander looked around with growing confusion. "Where?"

Dawn picked up Giles’ backpack and shoved it into Xander’s chest. "Look! Are you blind?"

"Well, okay, Dawnster. Let’s just slow down a minute. This is definitely good clueage, but..." Xander trailed off as Tara and Willow appeared.

That’s Giles’ pack," Tara said as she took it from Xander and quickly examined the contents for clues as Willow and Xander surveyed the immediate surroundings. Willow spotted it first.

"There, at the side of the mountain. That’s fresh. Those rocks haven’t been there long."

"A rockslide?" Tara asked.

"It looks like it." Willow’s voice was uncertain.

"Guys, stop discussing and start doing. They’re in there. I know it. We got to get them out, now!" Dawn demanded, pointing at the side of the mountain.

"But sweetie, we don’t know for sure and, well, it’s not going to be easy moving all those rocks. Before we waste time on that maybe we should first..." Willow stopped speaking when she saw Xander move to the edge of the trail, where the earth fell off at a dangerously steep grade. Her questioning eyes stayed on him as he returned. He shook his head and spoke quietly. "No evidence of anything going over the edge recently." Willow nodded and grimaced in momentary relief and recognition of what he had been looking for.

"Why won’t you listen? I’m telling you they’re trapped inside the mountain, in a hole or something." Dawn dropped down to the ground and desperately began pulling at the heavy steadfast stones.

Tara knelt down along side Dawn and placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke calmly. "Dawn, what makes you so sure?"

"Because I just am. I can feel it. My gut is telling me. Intuition. I thought you two were big on that." Dawn stood and planted her hands on her hips. "Or don’t I get any ‘cause I’m just a green glowy energy thing?" Even through her anger and frustration, her words didn’t fall on deaf ears.

Tara and Willow exchanged a knowing look and quickly moved into action.

"Okay, everybody up and out of the way. Tara, take my hand." Tara did as Willow instructed.

Willow looked intently in Tara’s eyes. "Do you remember that first time, when we held hands and moved the vending machine without speaking?"

"Of course, I remember," Tara replied, stuttering slightly.

"We’re doing it again." Willow’s voice was strong with determination. "Except this time we need a lot more control. We have to move the rocks carefully, one at a time, in case Buffy or Giles are near. We don’t want to cause another slide." She looked at Tara who nodded confidently.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Xander asked.

"Yes, you and Dawn stay behind us and don’t talk."

"But, Willow, are you sure? I mean maybe we should look around some more. Don’t we need a little more to go on than Dawn’s, uh...gut?" He glanced hesitantly at Dawn.

Willow scowled at Xander but Tara spoke first. "Xander, intuition is a very powerful tool, especially in an emotionally charged situation like this. If Dawn feels it, then it’s something we need to pay attention to."

Xander nodded and grabbed Dawn’s hand. He pulled her back to him, out of the way, as the witches joined forces and focused on the seemingly insurmountable task. The first rock was small, but it moved. Xander was speechless at the sight and Dawn just squeezed tighter onto his hand. The rock slowly levitated and moved to the side, then dropped to the ground. The second rock was larger but the pace was the same.

"Can’t you do this any faster?" Dawn pleaded. Neither Willow nor Tara broke concentration to answer her. Xander put his arm around Dawn and they waited and watched.

* * *

Giles’ eyelids fluttered as a cool breeze brushed across his hand. He opened his eyes. Buffy was sleeping, small and curled against him. He folded his arm around her and squinted up at the skylight. The stars were gone. The sky was the deep blue of breaking sunrise, royal and fresh as a hazy glow of warm tangerine began to lace the blue. The night had ended and morning was calling. He looked at her and thought about what little had happened for her, a release of some pent up anguish and a night’s sleep. He hoped it was enough of a beginning for the enormous task she had yet to face. He closed his eyes and waited for her to wake.

Suddenly he felt something on his face. It was warm and tickled lightly. Sunlight. He heard voices whispering with trepidation, "They’re here." Giles eyes sprang open and saw them. First Willow, then Xander crawling through a small opening in the entrance. The rocks seemed to just fall away for them as if by command. Then Tara and finally Dawn came through, each momentarily blocking the shaft of low morning sunlight now entering the cave. He held up his hand to stop them and looked down at Buffy. Giles managed a smile hoping to answer the concern in their eyes and motioned them to come forward. "Shh, she’s sleeping," he whispered.

Buffy stirred and looked up at him with sleepy eyes still puffy and red from having cried herself out. His eyes were red-rimmed too, from the dust and grit she told herself. Sunlight bathed his face, then suddenly he was cloaked in shadow. She reached out to him, touching the shadowed cheek with concern in her eyes. His arm tightened around her gently. He looked beyond Buffy to her sister moving toward them, rimmed with golden morning. "Everything is fine. Dawn’s here."

Buffy looked into his eyes and saw, just as he said, Dawn reflecting back at her, through him, in warm, glowing colors. She looked deep into his eyes, so deep she saw a thing she couldn’t name. A shape whose edges were drawn by gold and pink hues with plumes sparkling that had no beginnings or endings, colors spiking sharp and beautiful, sublime in an easy and magical dance of light. If she were still asleep she’d have been sure it was a premonition dream; it was so otherworldly. With a slow breath, she closed her eyes for just a moment and brought herself back to reality as she knew it.

The earth hadn't opened up letting loose demons and hellfire to destroy humanity. It wasn't the end of the world, only the end of her world as she knew it, the world of a girl who had lost her mother and had to find a way to go on.

Giles loosened his hold and slowly let his eyes close on the sight of Dawn’s arms surrounding Buffy.

* * *

END