Crossing The Line

"The ittsy bittsy slayer must be really sad, I killed her little sister, things are getting bad. I'll enjoy the feel of her veins under my mouth, and I'll laugh til it hurts when I hear her final shout...Ahhhh," Angelus sighed, proping up the corpse of an eldely man against his chest, crimson liquid dripping freely from his fangs and lips as his beast like face evolved to show a more plesant apperance. "I know you're there." He told the darkness around him.

From the shadows came a woman, a girl, not much unlike himself other than the fact that she had a certain finess to her killing. She worked clean and left behind no mess or trace. If it wasn't for the fact that blood was fresh on her breath, Angelus would be tempted to attack her thinking it might be just a regular human girl, at the wrong place, and the very wrong time.

"I see you're still as much a sloth as ever."

The age old vampire could hear the resentment in her lowly whisper, and it made him smile, cold, uncaring, brutal, the smile of a killer who knew no conscious.

Swiping the back of his hand across his mouth, Angelus carelessly shoves aside the body to the ground, unbothered by the deep frown it earns him. "Why bother? They're dead, I don't really think grandpa or anyother is going to care much."

Angelus knows his game, he's had a century to learn it, to prefect it, he knows all the buttons to press to set anyone off, the undead, much like himself, and demons, are no exception. A killer like him doesn't disciminate on age, sex, race, ethnics, yearly income or anything like that. Everyone is flesh and blood, everyone has a mind, a mind that can be messed with.

"You think everything is fun and games Angelus, that's the reason you ended up on the refecting side of the mirror, trapt in a place where you can get out, not without help, and my master-"

"Needs to stop pekking from under your skirts." He cuts her off, beginning to circle her, sniffing the air and finding that he suddenly doesn't care if her blodd is warm or not. His heavy boots clatter thud loudly on the dirt floor of the room, sounds like a heart. "I'm curious though, why won't he step up?" He stops beside her, placing his soiled hands on his hips, leaning over at the waist, his cocky looks falters breifly, "It is a man isn't it? Cause I gotta tell ya, last time someone decided to play hide and go seek with me, it turned out to be this seer who banged my son. So higher powers huh?"

"Stop your games Angelus." She is calm, resting the lure of a good fight with one of the oldest vampires around. It's really tempting, but that's not how she was, and she still isn't.

"Stop me, Molly."

He waits for her, his smug smirk pushing her closer to the edge. "What? Can't do anything?, I thought so."

"Wait. I didn't come here to instigate a fight, I came her because master sent me. He wishes to congratulate you on your distraction of the slayer."

Angelus halts his retreat, curious. "What distraction?"

Molly takes his previous path, stroking the elder's wrinkled face, holding his frail and delicate wrist to her lips. "The slayer will be too busy looking to kill you, she won't bother with my master until it is too late." Her milky fangs sink into the bruised flesh, almost black blood trinkling slowly out of the twin incisions.

His cold, cogulated blood stands thickly in his veins, but even that is not enough to stave off a spark of wearyness. He tries to cover it with a quickly sweep of his coat to turn, but he knows, knows she saw that one milisecond of hesistance.

"See? You lack finess. You've chosen your own stake."

"Where is he?"

"He doesn't wish to see you now, not in the light of day. I will take you to him at dawn's depature." The former potential makes no move to explain or elaborate, leaving Angelus feeling very bitter all of a sudden.

"Damn slayer," he curses, spitting out the remains of his snack.

---------------------

Xander Harris walked admist the group of mourning friends glum and absently. The death of his best friend's sister had undoubtedly affected them all on a mass level, and yet, he could not help but be overly devasted.

He'd known that for a while, Dawn had had a crsuh on him, and it had flattered him. The young Summers was definately an added bonus and a proud member of the Scoobies. Xander had never found her annoying or a pest unlike Buffy, who complained about it often enough. The girl was young, a sweetheart, interesting, sarcastically funny, and just fun to have around.

How was it that she was just there one day, and gone the next? She was ripped out of their arms practically. She'd been right there, right in front of them, surroned by superheros and the ones she loved, and still, noone had been able to do a damn thing about it...

Xander wiped at his eye, it was beginning to bother him again, amongst other things. Like the broody silence everyone seemed to fall into since they'd left the house. He knew they were hurting, he was too, but the silence was making it just that much more overwhelming. He wished somebody would say something to break the silence, even if it didn't make much sense, if only there was somebody to just distract them, to keep them from spiraling down deeper and deeper into the hole in the ground they'd fallen into.

Anya...

It was times like these that made him really grasp the pain of his loss. It was these despairing times when everyone was sinking, feeling like they were going under, that she would intervene, say something random or totally irrelevant and snap them out of it before they were in too deep. Everyone would try and shut her up, roll their eyes, and play her down, but he knew, somewhere inside Xander knew they were grateful to her for her distractions. It was now, he wished he'd died in the battle, it would have been less painful.

Up ahead Kennedy, with a look of deep sorrow, fell in stride next to Willow. She was upset, but even more so as it seemed the witch had withdrawn into herself. That was the thing she hated. No matter what happened, no matter the circumstances or the real perpetrators, Willow always managed to blame herself, and she was no doubt doing that just now.

She knew it would be hard when she came into Willow's life, knew the risks and rewards, the sitch as Faith called it. Willow and Buffy were unseperable, they were the best of friends, and on some level she knew Willow felt she had a responsibility with that title, and with some very much ponder, she could almost accept that. However, what she couldn't accept was her girlfriend running herself into the ground for something she had no control over what so ever.

The ex potential wanted to tell her so, let her know what she thought, but something was stopping her, a little voice at the back of her head, and a look at the tall burnette leading them down the sidewalk.

A shiver worked its way free, and Kennedy clasped the hand in hers, regreting it instantly. Even though Willow was right in beside her, so close, she had never been further away.

The visibly emotional slayer came to a sudden halt, startling the ones proceeding her. Her hands were shaking around the strained metal handle of the scythe, the material groaning in the darkened town, reminding them all that there were indeed monsters out there. Giles backed away, his arms spread and keeping the others behind him. It was an automatic response, due to the more then unplesant history he had with the once rogue slayer.

"Faith, what is it? Do you sense something? Is it Buffy?" Willow took a shaky step foward, gasping, her nerves on end, as Kennedy reaches out and snatched her hand, keeping her firmly in place.

"Sorry Red," Faith's back was to them, making it all the more sinster, and suddenly Kennedy had the urge to run. "It's not B."

"Is it a vampire then?" Giles spoke quietly, as if to a cornered animal, inching closer to her undetected.

"No vampire."

Xander shudders against his will, he know Faith, and he knows that Faith's voice being tranquil is reason for panic, maybe hysteria. It is the eye of the storm, calm, alluring, decieving, dangerous and fatal.

Giles stops in his tracks, finally catching onto the silent sobs shaking the young girl. "Was is it then?"

"This." Her arm arcs around, immediately dropping limply to her side.

"This? I'm afraid I do not compre-"

"What are we doing Giles? Do you know what we're doing," she balances the scythe in her hand perfectly, like it's a natural thing to her, "cause I sure as hell don't. I really don't." She sniffels.

"We're looking for Buffy, and then we need to find Rayne."

"We find Buffy, we find Rayne. And then what? What do we do then? Help me Giles because I'm failing to see the bigger picture in this one."

For once in his life, Rupert Giles is speechless. He can feel the girl's heartache, because it's in him too. What can say, really? "Faith I am aaware of how painful this must be for you, but please understand, now is not the time for you to breakdown. We need to find Buffy. When we do we'll all sit down and take a moment to process and then we'll-"

"What?!" Faith snaps, whirling on the the watcher, making him back away. "You're ganna tell us everything will be okay? You ganna send us to read some books, do a little research? Is that ganna help Giles? Is that ganna make everything better? Fix this somehow?" She's shouting at the top of her lungs, not giving a shit at the moment who's there and who can hear here. Everything is falling apart to fast for her to do anything, and she doubts sitting around in a secluded room with old crusty books and tea is going to make it better. "Tell me G-man, is there something in The Coucil's books that tell you what to do in case of this, a glass case that says 'in case of broken heart, shatter glass?' Tell me I'll do it."

The ex watcher's move closes and opens several times before settling on staying shut. She looks over his shoulder to the rest of the group. They're all tired, scared, sad. They're watching her with a look in their eyes, some fearful, some understanding, some simply already defeated, frankly, she can't blame them. She's supposed to be the slayer, lead them and protect them, keep her head in the heat of the situation. But when she became the slayer, no one ever told her she would fall in love with one, and when she did, noone mentioned how bad it hurt. The constant agony that was knowing any day everything she had worked so hard for could be ripped away, that one day she wouldn't come back or Buffy wouldn't come back.

Finally Giles seems to find his tongue. "Faith, we need to find Buffy."

Her stare lingers on him for a while longer, trying to figure out if he's purposly taunting her with pretending she didn't just lay it all out for him, or if he really believes that after they find Buffy everything will be alright.

"I know." She answers him, spinning on her heel, and reheading in the direction she last felt a flicker of B, towards Spike's old place.


---------------------------


The slayer walked around in a shocked stupor, her lean body shivering against the suddenly pelting rain, her normally bouncy hait clinging to her pale skin with greed, plastered and obscuring her vacant eyes.

Southern California's desert climate made rain a rare event, something people talked about. A loud squishing sound filled Buffy's ear as she stepped into yet another puddle, this one reaching almost to her knees. Under normal circumstances she would have cursed at the puddle until she offended it so bad it would probably leap and try to drown her. But this time, as the cold water bit at her skin, she didn't have the heart. And besides, she'd rather feel cold than the bone deep numbness that had taken residence in her body long ago.

She doesn't want to believe what's laid out in front of her, refuses to accept reality, the truth. It's a hellmouth, she's inclinded to believe that it might be some spell from a demon, some alternate universe created to distract her from the task at hand. Is it really that unlikly?

'I wish Spike was here.'

The thought is sudden, comes out of nowhere.

Spike.

She hates to admit it, but she really misses the bleach blond vampire. Sure granted he got on her nerves ninty percent of the time, but he always seemed to know what to say to make her feel even the slightest bit better. They'd formed a mutual alliance and somewhere along the path, they'd agreed to some level of friendship. Buffy had aided the once poet turned vampire, and he in turn, though not without much bickering, had aided her. And she had to admit, Dawn loved him.

Again, the thought flew into her head without her permission and it left her feeling empty. They were both dead. Dawn and Spike. Both because of her...and there was nothing she could do about it. Her, Buffy the vampire slayer, protecter of the innocent, guardian of the hellmouth, keeper of the world, had lost the life of her sister to a tricky little vampire that just came along.

She had destroyed the master, stopped the mayor, ridden the world of Dracula, kept the the dimensions of hell from swallowing the world, stopped the end of the world at the hands of her best friend, killed the invincible vampires, and fought the armies of hell. And yet, all it took, was one sneaky vampire with a chessy grin to tear her wold apart.

The rain came harder still, soaking her through to the bone, making her teeth chatter. Lightning flittered across the blackened sky, and made the cementary that much more gloomy. The drencthed soil beneath her made various sounds as she trudged through, her eyes set on her destination, a headstone off in the distance.

Upon reaching her goal, Buffy dropped to her knees and hands over the grave, sobbing and gasping, overcome with grief and faliure. "M-mom," her fingertips traced the engraved letters in the black marble, "I-I...I let Dawnie die. I let her die."

She had done it. If she hadn't let Dawnie day before, she certainly was now. Tears made it final, said she had accepted it, accepted that her sister was dead. They snaked down her cheeks and tipped into the already wet soil.

"I'm so sorry."

Buffy could feel her heart about to break, it was just too much. Years and years of losing her loved one and her friends had slowly worn through her, stretched her thin, and now, now she was snapping, being pulled that last little inch.

"No," her gaze ticked to the left, an oh so familiar and unwelcomed tingle running up and down her spine. A vampire.

All she wanted was to be left alone, maybe to dig a hole to stick her head in and cover up until she suffocated. The tingle was back nearly driving her mad with rage. Casting a longing look at the black marble, she staggered to her feet, only now realizing that she had no weapon.

So that was it. She wasn't in the shape to fight off a vampire at the moment, and she had no stake. So this was how the slayer died, alone in the cementary on a pouring day. It was like dark poetry. Buffy dropped back to the floor, her back sliding down the headstone, her head hanging low in surrender. She'd been bit before, it hurt, but after a while all that would remain was a lingering numbness, not much different from what she was feeling now.

-------------------------------

Angelus bowed before the grand vampire. He'd heard rumors of just how intimidating Omega could be, but none of them could even scratch the surface. He was a proud, arrogant vampire, he admitted, but even he knew when to shut his mouth and just follow. Angelus wasn't too fond of being anybody's left hand, but he wasn't about to voice that opinion to the monster before him.

Omega was quite the sight. The vampire stood eight feet tall, his body nothing but a display of muscles so hard, he could have been carved out of stone. His skin was a chalky, light, bluish gray hue, with only scattered tatoos of unreadable symbols over his chest on either sides of his face. The thing that stood out the most though, was the horns on his head, one long and blunt, the other so sharp Angelus thought he might cut himself just by looking at it.

"Angelus." Came the baritone voice. Angelus struggled against the urge to cover his ears, Omega's voice seemed to be all around him, almost inside his head. "Stand Angelus."

The ensouled vampire did as he was commanded, making sure to keep his distance. The power radiating off of the hellgod was tremendous, it was like smelling freshly spilt blood, it was painful not to have it. "You called for me?" He kicked himself mantally, his voice was tight, strained, and Omega was enjoying it.

The monster stood from his throne, the ground shaking beneath his massive feet, everywhere in the vineyard vampires dropped to their feet, trembling. Omega decended from the newly updated stairs made from the infidels who were not to his standards. His face was the poster picture for calm and patient. Being from another dimension, it took time and patience with years upon years of endless struggles and failed attempts to get out. Now he was unleashed upon the face of the earth, another chance to do what he'd so miserably failed the first time, control not only his dimension, but this one as well. The thing with the slayer was sidejob, a token of his appreciation to the first.

Gleaming yellow eyes watched as the anicent being walked from one end of the room to another,a prickly feeling in Angelus' neck as blue light seem to emanate from Omega's colossal hands. A century's worth of instinct, and his street smarts told him to run away as fast as he could. But, any move on his part would end with his incineration. He held his ground, looking bored.

"Did you call me here for anything specific? If not, hey, I'm in good ol' Sunnydale, why not have some fun while I'm here."

"Fun?" Omega was watching him, with something akin to amusement.

"Uh yeah, fun, ever heard of it?" Was his sarcastic reply as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, ankles following suit.

"I've heard of no such thing."

To his surprise, Omega looked truly bothered. "It's...well, killing's fun!" He was feeling the need for a little fun right about now. There was a familiar buzz in the back of his head, one or possibly both of the slayers were near by and he was just iching to taunt Buffy. "Look here Connan, you can do whatever the hell you want, I ain't ganna stop you, just don't intefere with my business." The buzz was growing louder, making the urge stronger, and it was pissing him off that he had to sit underground with a has-been when the slayer was walking around just a small distance away.

Omega stopped his march, razor sharp teeth catching a glint from the torch on the wall. "Go have your, fun, while you can Angelus. I intend to get rid of you."

"Yeah well," Angelus bounded up the steps, nothing like a little tingle to make him fearless, "Catch me if you can." He growled into the lower section.

Outside it was pouring, the sky was a blanket boardering on dark grey and mild black, the prefect cover from the sun. Angelus' nostrils flared as the familiar scent of the slayer near by intoxicated him, she was alone. He licked his lips, his face covered in ridges.

"Here slayer slayer."

What the best advantage of being a vampire besides everything? Speed and stealth. Using his full advantage, Angelus bounds into the rain, over the inferior wooden fence and down the path. Everything whizzes by, everything is nothing, nothing but a blur in the line of his vision.

"I wonder if she's say yes to a cup of Dawn." He laughs, running in through the cementary gates. Even if he didn't have powers to smell her, it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to realize the slayer is at her mother's tomb. "Oh boo hoo," he mocks.

He ceases running, hiding behind a tree close enough to jump her, but far enough to conceal him. The slayer tenses, whipping her head to look around, she's already sensed him. The corners of his mouth pull upwards, the slayer stands, probably to get a read on him.

"I'm right here baby. Come over here and let me teach you to, how'd she say it, see the fun." He crouches, ready to pounce, to leap out and finally rip her throat out and bathe in her warm blood. 'That will be rejuvinating.'

A fang elongates, tearing into the skin of his lip, piercing it, cold, bland blood filling his mouth. The slayer has no weapon to fight with. The excitement that shots through his body is enough to make want to shout as the slayer slumps against the headstone, slipping down slow and fluidly, the way her blood will when he sinks his fangs into her so hard it will spray all over.


------------------------------

"What are you doing?" Kennedy questions, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, slightly interested by the doings of the witch.

"Locator spell. You see this," Willow points to a map of Sunnydale, "is Sunnydale. When I'm done, two lights should pop up on the map, leading us to-"

"Buffy and Rayne." Kennedy sits up, now watching the map with a purpose.

"Any chance you could speed that up a bit?" Faith snaps, her hands wringing at each other, her foot pumping unmercifully at the ground, a cig hanging tightly from her lips.

"Chill out Faith."

"Don't tell me to chill out junior, if it was Willow out there-"

"I found them." Willow cuts in tactfully, pointing at the map. "One of them is at the cementary by the vineyard, the other is at the hospital."

"Okay," Faith leaps to her feet, making a run for the door. "I'll go to the hospital," the bell rings as she swings the door open to the Magic Box, "the rest of you go to the cementary. We'll meet back here." Faith can see Willow is about to protest, so she bolts out into the rain, only mildly pissed at the fact that there had been no signs of rain earlier and hence the no jacket.

"Trust Sunnydale to make it all better."

Faith's walk through downtown was an obstacle. Most of the gutters were overflooded, filth of all kinds floated about ankle high in the streets, the smell of sewer overpowering. Sometimes she wished she didn't have heightened senses, and then again, sometimes she wishes she'd never been chosen in the first place.

Her life had been filled with obstacles, trails, and so much bullshit ever since the girl could remember. It wasn't just the usual 'I grew up without a daddy,' crap. It was also the 'mommy's passed out on the floor again,' and 'here comes another one of mommy's friends.' She would have loved it if it had been so simple. She was an outsider, ostrocized for her clothes, for her mother who was known as the south side whore. In school she never had a real friend, and the one she did skipped town after she jumped in and beat the crap out of the guys who were doing it to him. Life had become to hard, and she'd lost, ended up in sanitarium for nearly killing a john.

Faith scoffed, able to get a glimpse of the red neon emergency sign through the rain a few meters away.

And even with all that shit that went down when she was a kid, when she was a teenager, everything that happened, it never hurt her so much. It was nothing compared to the pain she'd witnessed and expreinced as the slayer. At first she thought becoming the slayer was the way out for her, a one way ticket out of her petty exsistance, but she had been wrong. Boy was she wrong. She realized that after her watcher was killed. She would forever deal with that, with never knowing who would die next or what was coming or when she would walk out the door, never to return.

And then. Then there's the once in a while time, when she saves someone and they thank her, the way her now friends look up to her as their guardian, they way they praise her for a job well done or even for trying. There's B.

The sliding doors part for Faith, and she enters, a trail of water behind her as she makes her way to the front desk. She leans over the counter, peering at the oblivious attendant sifting through files. "Excuse me?"

"Oh!" The attendant nearly jumps out of her skin, chuckling," Sorry. May I help you?"

"Um, yeah," Faith pushes back her wet bangs, feeling selfconscious for no reason. The nurse smiles warmly at her, ushering her on, "I need to know where the morgue is in here."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is there-, do you have a name?"

"Dawn Summers." Faith swallows back the sudden rise of bile in her throat, holding back tears not for the first time that day. It's just so hard for her to believe that Dawnie is gone. It kills her to think she wasn't able to stop it.

"Ma'am?"

"Huh?" Faith whimpers.

"Are you okay?"

"What?" The nurse looks down to her hands. Faith follows her eyes, jumping back when she sees she's been holding onto the counter so tight it's breaking. "I'm sorry."

The nurse nods, handing her a piece of paper, "These are instruction once you get there. Go all the way down this hall, turn left, there will be two elevators, pass both of those and on you right there will be a hall. Go into the hall, the first door on the right."

Faith stares at the paper in her hand before thanking the nurse. "Hopefully B will listen to reason."


Rayne paces about the empty room aimlessly, unperturbed by the presence of Dawn, or the smell of her already washed out blood. A million thoughts race through her mind, all of them ending with her hands around Angelus' neck and a nice pointy stake deep in his unbeating heart.

"But what good what that do me?" She asks, heartbroken whimpers emiting from deep in her throat. Walking down the length of the table, she removes the carp, gasping, startled by how lifeless her girlfriend looks. "What good will it do me if you're gone?"

The corpse remains motionless, speechless, not willing to share its secrets with her.

Her hand comes to rest on Dawn's cheek, instantly missing the warmth that used to be her fire. She lets it trail, tracing her nose, her lips, her jaw, "You left me Dawn. You said you'd never leave me, I trusted you," she looks away, unable to stand it, her voice cracking, "and you left me here to be alone again."

She can't understand. In a way, she's undead, are not the undead supposed to not feel? If so, why is she being bombarded with such raw emotions? Sorrow, anger, rage, fear, hopelessness, lonliness. "You might as well have staked me...it would have been less painful..."

"Rayne..."

The vampiress remains as she is, undisturbed by the sudden arrival of the slayer behind her. "get out here Faith." She shakes her head, her voice so low it's possible not even the slayer heard it.

"Not without you kiddo."

Or not. Rayne snaps at her, baring her fangs, patience is a virtue. Unfortunately the only thing that matters to her right now is being alone with Dawn. "I said get out of here slayer!"

"Damn," Faith saunter foward, "a little belligerent aren't we?" She was expecting Buffy to be on the other side of the door, not Rayne, but she needs to be taken to the Magic Box as well, she'll see her girl once they get there. She can sit her in her lap and hold her close, whisper in her ear, stroke her, let her know she's there, they can greif together, the way they should.

"I don't fucking believe you," Rayne looks genuinly hurt, "you're fucking teasing me," she points at Dawn's uncovered body, "when my girlfriend just died?..."

"Rayne I didn-...what...the...fuck?" Faith pants, a feeling like getting her insides torn out sneaking on her, her hand clutches at her chest, her heart pounding, sky rocketing out of nowhere. "Wha-what-"

"Faith?" Rayne calls the slayer's name, baffeled by her. "Faith?"

"Oh god!" She shreiks, her legs buckling underneath her.

"Faith!" Rayne rushes to her side, shaking the convulsing girl's body. "What the hell's wrong with you?! Faith!"

"Ohgodohgodohgod," she pants, sweat rolling down her face, eyes dialating in and out of focus, the erratic beating of her heart magnifying the searing pain inside her.

"Faith! What the-Faith?!" Rayne panics, on the verge of hysteria.

"B...buffy..." Faith whispers, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

"Oh my god, jesus! Damn it somebody help me please!"


---------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes when I look about
I know the screams, you hear the shouts.
You feel the pain, all around,
And when we look up, there they are, the little black clouds.