Epilogue

As it developed, Giles never had to come up with an excuse for Snyder. The Monday following the climactic events of the previous Friday, he and Buffy were summoned to the principal's office during homeroom. As they approached the office, each wore an identical expression of dread.

Snyder was sitting at his desk, another man -- Giles recognized him as the chief of police -- standing behind him. Snyder stood up when they entered, nodding briefly. "Summers, Giles," he acknowledged them. "This is Chief of Police Bob Reid."

Buffy looked puzzled, but shook the hand offered by the chief, as did Giles. They all sat, then, except for Reid, who apparently had no intention of sitting down.

"First of all, I would like to, ah, apologize," stated Snyder, sounding most uncomfortable, his eyes flashing his annoyance. "If we -- I -- had known before that Buffy was the Slayer, a great deal of trouble could have been avoided."

"You must understand the necessity of keeping her identity a secret," Giles replied, and Reid nodded.

"Of course. Now that we know about it, we also have something to tell you. We've been aware of the Hellmouth for some time now. Up until this time, we have attempted to deal with it, but since we're not exactly schooled in dealing with paranormal phenomenon, our efforts have generally fallen short."

He leaned on the side of Snyder's desk, effectively ignoring the stewing principal. "What I'm proposing is an alliance of sorts: that we work together, instead of against each other, for a common goal."

Giles simply stared at Reid, while Buffy's jaw had dropped to the floor. "You mean you know?" she finally blurted.

"Yes, it's been something of a problem in this town, as you can imagine."

"A problem." Buffy snorted. "I could have told you that."

"What exactly are you saying, then?" Giles asked, brows drawn together. "That we... join forces?"

"Not as such," Reid replied. "But you'll have the full support of the school and the police, should a situation arise where you require additional help, and that those of us 'in the know', so to speak, won't hinder you from doing what needs to be done."

Giles glanced at Buffy, who blinked back at him in bemusement; then he turned to face the chief of police again.

"Well, it hardly seems to our disadvantage to turn you down," he replied. "So I suppose we can do no less than agree to your offer."

"Great." Reid stood, as did Buffy and Giles, shaking hands with them again, a smile on his jowly face. "I'll give you a number where you can call day or night for assistance. And I suppose I hardly need to mention that you don't have to noise this about..?"

"Of course." Giles nodded, and with a final smile from Reid - and a glower from Snyder - he and Buffy were dismissed.

They emerged into the hallway with matching looks of disbelief painted on their faces.

Buffy continued her patrolling schedule as normal after that rather awkward encounter, and though it sometimes gave her a start to find a police car quietly pulling along behind her, it was a relief that the officer never obstructed her from what she was doing - often, instead, she would receive a polite offer of help (or, in the case of a couple of the officers, less-than-polite offers that left them bruised and apologetic).

Of course, the night Spike decided to confront her, there weren't any of them around. Not that they would have helped, she later mused.

She was walking through the graveyard at the time; the attack was completely unexpected. All she remembered was flying through the air and fetching up against the side of a mausoleum hard enough that she couldn't suppress a cry of pain. Slumping to the ground, she pushed to her feet. Standing above her, face a mask of rage, was Spike.

He didn't waste time on banter or small talk, just came at her again, giving her no chance to catch her breath. Buffy's back was to the wall, so she kicked out hard, shoving him back and away from her; he landed against a stone cross, then lurched away from it, since the holy symbol affected him on contact.

She jumped on him now. Without time to go for the stake hidden in a jacket pocket, she had to settle for trying to knock him out before getting her weapon. The solid punches she threw at his face didn't even faze him; he gave as good as he got, seemingly careless of injury. God, what does he care if he looks like a mess, he doesn't have to explain bruises to his mom, Buffy thought in between punches.

Spike got a knee under her torso and shoved, but maintained his grip on her shoulders so that Buffy found herself flat on her back with Spike over her. His hands slipped to her neck, and she could feel his thumbs digging into the cords of her throat. Black seeped around the edges of her consciousness.

This was not how she wanted it to end, not on her back in a graveyard with a vampire hell-bent for revenge ripping the life out of her. Buffy fought the blackness, forcing her hands up and around Spike's neck, fingernails ripping at his skin. He gave a startled gasp; it was all she needed to throw him off of her.

He fell, rolled to his feet, dancing back nimbly, hands raised in a fighting posture. Buffy took the opportunity to yank her hidden stake out, raising it over her shoulder.

"Go on," he breathed, "kill me. My life's not worth anything now that Dru's dead."

She just blinked at him for a moment, then almost chuckled. "You're pathetic, you know that?"

A snarl erupted from his throat, and she danced back, dodging a sudden strike. "You call me pathetic? You're the one who couldn't face the fact that your boyfriend didn't want to see you anymore?"

She lunged at him now, connecting with a blow to his face. He stumbled back a couple steps, grinning at her. "Hurts, doesn't it? The truth?"

"You're going to be hurting in a second," she snapped, and dove at him.

Neither of them were pulling punches. From the harsh way his fists pounded, she knew she'd be bruised and sore in the morning; but she didn't let up at all, not until she'd kicked him back and had him down on the ground, stake held above his heart.

She was breathing hard, and her hair had come undone in the fight. Spike grinned up at her, his mocking, malicious smile below harsh vampire features, one eyebrow scarred and twisted.

"Go on, pet," he whispered, "and you won't have to hear about all the lovely things he and Dru did behind my back..."

Anger overtook rational thought -- not that there should be rational thought when it comes to vampire slayage, some part of her whispered fiercely -- and her hand jabbed down, the stake burying itself in his heart. His body fell into ash within seconds, and as Buffy sat back, coughing in the resulting cloud, she could swear that he'd been smiling even as he'd died.

"Well, Giles is just gonna love this," she muttered.

Time passed, in the way that it will. School ended, and summer rolled around. Buffy stayed in Sunnydale this year to spend quality time with her friends, though she did take the opportunity to spend a couple of weeks with her father in Los Angeles.

Willow received the occasional email from Michael and Clarissa, who maintained polite contact, inquiring as to how things were going in Sunnydale and with Angel. Willow's replies managed to continually avoid that subject, although she suspected they could figure things out as much by her avoidance as anything else.

Even Giles seemed to relax as the summer progressed; though he still didn't speak of Jenny often, there was no more talk of trying to contact her spirit or such. He had mentioned to Willow the discussion regarding reincarnation, an idea the young hacker found privately interesting.

Summer meant downtime for the Slayer, as vampire activity traditionally slowed to a crawl during the hot months. Thus it was that Buffy found herself spending a lot of free time hanging out with the Scooby Gang, sans Cordelia, whose parents had dragged her off for an undoubtedly torturous and boring vacation in Europe.

The Bronze was still the place to be, no matter the season, and Willow never failed to convince Buffy and Xander to join her when Dingoes Ate My Baby played. This Friday night was no exception. As Buffy paid the cover charge and led the others inside, she was vaguely surprised to realize that it had been over three months since Angel had left. She hadn't been consciously keeping track of the days, although the night he'd left was tattooed on her memory; nor had she forgotten her promise to keep him in her thoughts and heart.

Lost for a moment in contemplation, she took her seat at their favorite table. She finally decided that time moved along whether you wanted it to or not; and sometimes it was good to lose track of time, to get caught up in life and not worry so much about the everyday details.

"Uh-oh, no serious looks allowed here," Xander declared, breaking into her ruminations.

Buffy laughed softly. "Sorry. Were we talking about something?"

"Just that it's been nice around here, with it so quiet and all," Willow replied.

"You mean boring, Will," stated Xander. "This has got to be the most boring summer ever."

"You say that every year." Willow stuck her tongue out at Xander, then turned to the stage as the band appeared. Her face lit up when Oz waved to her. They promptly started into their first song, and Xander hopped off of his stool.

"Want to dance, Willow?" he asked, offering his hand.

Willow grinned and gave him her hand. "Okay." As they headed to the dance floor, Xander tossed Buffy a wink that assured her she'd be asked to dance next. She propped her chin in her hands and watched them wistfully, remembering the few times she'd been in Angel's arms under that same light. The memories were no longer painful to conjure; now, she treasured them fondly.

"May I have this dance?"

The voice took her breath away. She whirled, her eyes going wide -- she was sure it had to be a dream, a hallucination, anything but what it was.

But it was.

Buffy didn't recall leaving the chair; all she knew that one moment, she was sitting down, and the next, she was in his arms, pressed close to him.

"You came back," she breathed happily, caressing his face in wonderment.

His eyes were warm, his smile beautiful. "Yeah. I realized that I couldn't stay away. Not when here is where my heart is."

"Angel," she murmured, her voice full of love. "I missed you so much."

Inclining his head, he kissed her. He meant it to be light and gentle, but the passion flared between them as it always did, and when the kiss ended, he found himself blinking rapidly, trying hard to remember that they were in a public place.

Buffy swam out of dizziness to smile weakly up at him. "Missed that, too."

"God, I love you," he said throatily.

"Why don't we skip the dance and go catch up on the past three months?" she said softly, her fingers threading into his. He nodded, and without another word, they turned and headed from the Bronze, hand-in-hand.

Willow turned to glance at the table just in time to see her best friend (of the feminine gender) walking away, hand firmly held in that of a tall, dark-haired man. A grin overtook her face.

"What is it?" Xander asked, noticing her change of expression.

Willow damped her grin down and returned her attention to her dance partner. "Nothing," she lied cheerfully, eyes sparkling.

It looked like it wasn't going to be a dull summer after all.

FIN

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this page last updated on 10 january 2003