“War is about death. Needless, stupid death.”

If those words did not hold true now, when would they? Looking out from her place upon the rooftop at the hundreds-if not thousands- of demons swarming over the ground, as fast and deadly as oil leaking into the sea, Buffy knew. This battle- this war-would cost them. Death. This place reeked of it. Clinging to her skin, clogging up her pores, seeping it’s way into her blood. She knew. This battle would be bloody, make no mistake.

She could feel her sister slayer, her true sister slayer, behind her. Her body was tense and ready for battle, gripping the weapon as if it were a giver of life, the only thing that would sustain her. Maybe it would be.

Behind Faith she could sense the crowd of slayers that she had managed to gather in time for this battle-this potential war.

Buffy could see them below, the tiny group huddled, awaiting the horde that would surely kill them. And she could see him, as clear as day. Clearer even. The shock of white hair made him impossible to miss. Buffy, in turn, gripped her own weapon, the scarlet scythe she had pulled from the rock. The giver of power, of purpose. The giver of death.

God, she wished she were elsewhere. Somewhere, anywhere but here. She didn’t want to be a part of what she knew would be an inevitable blood bath. This, according to the research-y types at the Watchers Council, was The Apocalypse. All capitalized and everything, as if all the work she had done in the past years had been merely a footnote.

And that more than pissed her off.

But it wasn’t written in any prophecy that her presence was demanded. She could be sitting outside her favourite café, drinking coffee with Dante, talking about anything and everything. She could be shoe shopping in her favourite boutique. She would rather be doing paperwork than be here. Christ, she would rather walk on hot coals. She could be watching crappy sci-fi movies with Andrew chattering on in her ear, for God’s sake, and still be having more fun.

Well, maybe not that last one.

But still.

This sucked regardless.

But maybe that had more to do with the prospect of talking to a certain bleach blond than the upcoming battle. Battles she could do. Battles she could handle. But emotions? Specifically hers? Much with the not being able to handle. The lack of handling was almost unbelievable. She knew she was going to screw this up one way or another. And she was so mad at him. She was angry and confused-and tired of being angry and confused! She just wanted this over. Over, so she could go back to Rome and move on with her life. Move on from him, like he’d moved on from her.


Buffy turned around to her red-headed best friend, who was currently sitting cross-legged on the rooftop.

“What’s the plan?” she asked.

“Less of a plan, more of a….theory.” Willow told her, as she cast the circle.

“A theory? Is that gonna be enough?”

“We’ll wait and see. Anyway, it seems the demons have a residual energy, something demons in our dimension don’t have. So I traced it back to the portal they must be arriving through. I’m gonna try and shut it down, stop any more demons from coming through.”

“Sounds like it’s got plan-like qualities to me.” Buffy said with a half smile. “Okay, you shut down the portal. We’ll do a little search and destroy. Only, y’know…minus the searching.”

“You ready for this B?” Faith asked.

“Sure. I haven’t had a decent life or death battle for almost a year. I was almost missing it,” Buffy answered, as she watched her two vampiric lovers jump into battle. “Let’s go to work.”

Immediately she and Faith began shouting orders. They watched as girls, women, slayers began abseiling down the building, ten at a time. Turning to her left she saw the remaining slayers at the ready; crossbows, bow and arrows-some alight with fire- were poised and ready to fire. With one last glance at the battle below she turned her attention elsewhere.

“Fire!” She ordered. A flurry of shots, arrows finding their marks true, flew through the air. Below dozens of demons fell, submitting to death. The battalion of slayers below were fighting tooth and nail. Battle cries were piercing the air. Again and again arrows left their bows. They quickly found their way into hearts of devils and demon.

Soon the demons retaliated. Enemy arrows were shot at them. Buffy couldn’t help but gasp when an arrow embedded itself in the shoulder of the girl standing next to her. She caught her as she fell, and was able to remove the arrow easily. Moments later a young girl was kneeling down beside her and pressing padding to the wound.

“I’ll look after her,” She said. Buffy nodded.

“What’s your name?” Buffy asked.

“Asa.” The young girl replied, with a blush.

“Thank you, Asa.” Buffy responded as she got to her feet and once again focused on the battle at hand.

Almost without realising, Buffy sought out Spike, her eyes desperately scanning the ground below until they rested on his platinum hair. He was up against the wall, fighting for his very existence. An existence, she realised, that within minutes would be no more. The demon he was fighting was huge, and every swipe of the broad sword it carried was avoided or blocked with what seemed to be great difficulty. Spike was weakening by the second, his face bloodied and bruised.

He wasn’t going to last.

He was going to die.

And she wasn’t going to be able to say her goodbyes.

She wasn’t going to be able to shout at him, or scream at him, or ask him the million and one questions that she needed to ask.

Funny how, little under an hour ago, she had wanted to leave without talking to him at all. Now all she wanted was to bury herself in his arms, and kiss every part of him to make sure he was real.

She was going to lose him.

“ Well, screw that”, she thought. Grabbing her scythe, Buffy looked once at Faith, who nodded, knowingly. She would take charge. She would give orders, and become General in Buffy’s absence. Buffy returned the nod before setting her sights once more on Spike.

Then she jumped.

Into the battle.

Into the war.

Into the fray.