Buffy blinked. “Spike…”
“In the flesh,” he acknowledged, then glanced round his muchly improved crypt. “Love what they’ve done with the place… The Powers have an eye for decorating.”
“You don’t live here anymore,” she noted slowly, her manner indicating how unsure she was about her current situation. “You haven’t lived here since last year, before you got…”
“Yeah, yeah,” he scoffed. “So what? It’s a dream, isn’t it? Your dream. So if you put me back here…must be gettin’ on your nerves having me at the old homestead.”
“No…it’s more the switching to the other side, trying to bring about apocalypse that’s got me annoyed with you these days.”
He chuckled with a shake of his head. “Yeah, that too.”
“You’re not my destiny,” she told him sternly.
Spike glanced up and raised one eyebrow. “Aren’t I?”
Her mouth formed a terse frown. “Hardly.”
“And what, pray tell, is? Obviously you turned down mommy dearest and the psychotics poster child if you’ve gotten to me.”
She hesitated a moment before answering with something of a pout. “I had my reasons.”
“I’m sure you did.” He glanced at the second Buffy, then back at the original. “Say…two of you. No chance we three could…”
Both Buffy’s rolled their eyes. “No,” they intoned.
“Figures,” he scoffed, and lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a long, concentrated stream. “Yeah, I smoke in the dreamworld, too,” he told Buffy off her disdainful glance. “Can’t die or get yellowed teeth here. Why not? It relaxes me.”
“We’re going,” Buffy said to her other self, and headed for the door.
“Just a minute, luv,” Spike called. “You haven’t exactly heard me out.”
“Spike, what could you possibly say that would make me choose you, of all people, as my destiny?” Buffy snapped, whirling around to face him.
He leaned lazily on a coffin. “The fact that you and I…we’re connected.”
She shook her head with a snap. “Not really.”
“Yeah, we are. You and me, whether you want to admit it or not…there’s something there, Buff.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He glanced her way. “Fine. Whatever I call you, doesn’t change things. I’m your dark side, Summers. The ebony to your ivory.”
“Funny. Faith said basically the same thing, and look where that got me. Moving on!” She turned once more to the door.
“What’s between you and her ain’t nearly the same, and you know it. Remember, Buffy. Remember. Think back to a time when you and I were all we could think of. Each night, out under the stars, taking from each other, easing each other’s pain. I know you haven’t forgotten. I know that sometimes you still long for that…for the release. Being with me was easy.”
She sputtered. “Easy?! In what dimension would you term what you and I had ‘easy?!’”
“Every dimension, princess. ‘cluding this one.” He stepped off the coffin and crossed to her, eyes hot on hers. “You and me, together, worked. My hand slipped into yours and sparks flew.”
“Sparks aren’t enough to keep things going, Spike. Sparks die out…or they get stomped on. And they certainly don’t mean destiny.”
“True,” he considered, “but then there’s the fact that you need me. And I need you.”
She didn’t respond for a moment. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. When she opened her mouth she said softly, “So you’re trying to kill me?”
He jerked a shoulder unapolgetically. “It’s sorta what I do, if you haven’t noticed.”
“You have a soul now, Spike. You aren’t evil anymore.”
“And you, Slayer, need to get it through your head that a soul doesn’t equate sainthood,” he growled, grabbing her shoulders and holding her before him. “Evil is evil, never been any different. You can give the boy a conscience but it doesn’t mean he’s going to follow orders. I am what I am. Pretending to be otherwise hasn’t proven in my favor.”
She stared at him. “You’re not. I’ve seen the good in you. I’ve…”
“What?”
“I’ve…I’ve felt the good in you, Spike. It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“I’m afraid it does,” he said simply, releasing her slowly. “Because it’s what you need.”
“What I need?” she echoed. “I need a vampire trying to kill me? Shaming me? Making me hurt more than I ever have before?”
“I didn’t do that to you, Buffy. You did that to yourself. I wasn’t the picture perfect boyfriend, but that’s what you liked about me. About us. We were dark, we were dangerous. The perfect combination of light and dark.”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Yes,” he nodded. “And you know it’s true. You need the dark. You need it. And I need you. To balance me out.”
She stared at him, blinking slowly.
“I need you, Buffy,” he told her again gruffly, moving closer. “I need you.”
Spike moved in and put a finger to her chin, lifting her head gently until her eyes focused on his. “I need you. Stay with me. We work…somewhere in there,” he moved a hand to her chest, over her heart, “you know that. You feel it, too.”
“Spike, I…”
“Choose me, Buffy. Choose this. You and me, together. It can be like it was before, and better,” he said softly. “Us at each other’s side. You keeping a leash on me, me letting you let loose. It’s perfect,” he whispered now, grazing her cheek with his lips. “I need you. I want you.”
Buffy’s eyes closed as she surrendered to Spike’s touch.
“We’ll take the lil’ bit with us, we’ll make something of ourselves. Our own twisted family.”
An image of Dawn swam before Buffy’s eyes, out of focus, and something snapped in her mind. Slowly she pushed Spike away.
“No, Spike,” she told him hollowly.
His expression registered stun. “You don’t mean that, Slayer,” he said after a moment, giving her a sly grin.
“I do.”
“Then why aren’t you headed for that door, moving on to whatever’s in the next room?”
She glanced at the heavy wooden door, its presence ominous, almost frightening as it stood, closed against the stone walls on either side.
“Buffy,” Spike murmured, fingering a strand of her hair. “I love you. I love you, Slayer.”
He moved in to pull her into his arms and she followed woodenly, allowing herself to be engulfed in his embrace, the smell of leather and smoke filling her nostrils.
“I love you, Slayer. Be mine. Be with me. We’ll go away, we’ll never look back. We won’t have to be these people anymore. I can give you what you need. I can be what you need.”
Buffy’s eyes filled with tears and she buried her face in his chest. Spike’s eyes closed and a small smile of relief played on his lips. He sighed and moved his lips to the top of her head, kissing her gently there.
Buffy pushed away from Spike gently and took a step back.
“Just say the words, luv,” he whispered. “Just tell your doppelganger over there what’s the choice and it’s all over. You don’t have to go out to that world anymore.”
Buffy turned to her other self and smiled sadly. A moment passed, and then another before she spoke again. And when she did, Spike’s mouth dropped open.
“I’m ready to go,” Buffy murmured, and stepped toward the door.
Spike’s eyes flew wide. “Wh—what?”
“Spike,” Buffy began softly. “I can’t.”
“Why?” he demanded. “Slayer…Buffy…I love you.”
“I don’t love you, though, Spike,” she murmured. “You’ve known that. You’ve always known that. I can’t leave this.”
“You can!” he cried. “You’re getting the chance here to let it all go, Buffy. All that pain, all that bullshit, all that heartache you’ve had to put up with, and for what?! To die a coupla times with not so much as even a thank-you from the world of people you’re saving? To have to put up with so much crap, so much pain? Summers,” he said seriously, stepping toward her, “it’s not going to end for you until you die. You know that.”
“I know that,” she nodded.
“You’ll die, and you won’t have ever lived.”
“So the choice is to run away? That’s what you’d have me do?” she asked him quietly. “I can’t do that, Spike. I’ve wanted to quit before, I’ve had bad times, times I didn’t think I could make it one more step…but I did. I have friends, I have family…I’ve lived and loved and hated and hurt… But that’s a part of it.” She glanced down at the floor. “It’s taken me a long time to realize that. It’s all a part of it. It’s what makes us human.”
“So…what? You can make the best of it and keep chugging along? The little Slayer that could?” he snarled.
She reached for him and took his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. “Spike…you know this isn’t right. Is this all you want for me? To be a coward? To run away and not face the bad stuff coming? That’s not you…and it isn’t me. You’re right. We’re connected…we share the spirit of the fight.”
“We share more than that,” he insisted.
“No, Spike…we don’t. We’re comrades…you and I are the fight. But we’re not more than that. In all the years we’ve known each other, that’s how it’s been. We tried to make it more and for a while, we were…but we both knew it wouldn’t last. Because it’s not right for us. It goes against the grain.”
“I love you.”
“But I don’t love you,” she told him gently. “And I’m sorry for that. If I could love you, I would. But I don’t…and I never will. Not the way you want me to.”
“You can.”
“No…I can’t. And you deserve more than that, Spike. If you can do this thing…become the man I think you can be… You’ll deserve more than that, more than me.”
She turned toward the door. “I can’t do what you want Spike. I won’t. I won’t run away, I won’t be a coward. I won’t give in to temptation because that’s all it is, Spike. Tempting. I’m sorry for that, but that’s how it is. It’s not what I want, it’s not what I need.” She looked over at her other self. “And it’s not what I choose.”
They headed to the door together and opened it. As Buffy walked through, Spike clenched his fists. “You’re wrong,” he told her.
She glanced back at him sadly, then slipped through the door.
*~*~*
When they stepped through the door and found themselves back in the main chamber, Buffy Two turned to her counterpart. “You okay?”
Buffy nodded after a moment, taking a few deep breaths. “I didn’t know this would be so hard.”
“Well, there’s only one door left.”
“What happens if I don’t want what’s in there, either?”
Buffy Two cocked her head slightly, observing her other self. “Deal with that when the time comes, okay?” She put a hand on the metal door pull and gave it a tug. The heavy wooden door swung open with a loud creak and she turned to look at herself. “Besides…on some level anyway, you’re going to want what’s in this room.”
“What?”
“Trust me. I’m you. Only…a little more honest-with-myself you.” They stepped through the door.
Buffy waited a moment until her eyes adjusted to the dark. When the room brightened she glanced around at her surroundings. Framed artwork hung on the walls, pedestals stood displaying priceless sculpture. A leather couch sat, flanked by rich wood coffee tables. “Oh my God.”
“Is there a problem, ma’am?” came a teasing voice.
She turned slightly to her left. “Angel.”
“You don’t sound surprised.”
A blush crept over her cheeks. “I guess I’m not.” She looked around at the familiar apartment, the one he had owned when she’d first met him, seven years earlier. It was small, especially compared to the mansion or the hotel, but it was…cozy. Inviting. And so comforting. She walked around slowly, remembering her times there…dropping by before school and after, sitting on his couch, studying while he read poetry or sketched. Her eyes caught something bright crimson and her blush increased, as did her blood pressure as warmth spread throughout her at the sight of Angel’s bed and the satin and silk bedding, unchanged after all these years.
“So you’re here to find your destiny,” Angel began, coming up behind her.
She turned and nodded. “Apparently. So far it’s overrated.”
“Well, it’s your dream,” he pointed out easily.
“I’ve seen too many movies,” she complained with a small smile.
He returned it. “So…you didn’t choose your mom. Or Faith. Or…”
She let out a breath. “Or Spike.”
“Spike…yeah…” Angel’s expression clearly indicated a nice blend of uncomfortable and controlled rage.
“Probably something we shouldn’t talk about,” she concluded, strolling around the apartment. “The place looks nice.”
“Pretty much how I remember it, though your attention for detail’s a little off,” he told her. She looked at him, confused and he smiled at her wrinkled forehead. “Just some of the artwork’s not quite the same.” He pointed behind her at a framed painting of dogs playing poker.
She grinned and shrugged. “Guess between me and the Powers we couldn’t remember what you had there.”
“Degas’ “L’Entrees des Masques,” he told her.
“Ah, well…how silly of me,” she smiled at him. The stood in awkward silence for a moment, then another before she plopped down onto the couch. “So…any words of wisdom to impart on me?”
“Hmm?”
“The others,” she explained. “They all made their cases for picking or not picking them. Lay it on me.”
“I think someone’s destiny is something they alone should choose.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Look who’s talking, vampire. As the Slayer? Not really getting much out of the choices department.”
“You make the best of what you’ve got,” he acknowledged, taking a seat on the armrest of the couch. “You could ignore your responsibilities, the gift you’ve been given, but you don’t.”
“The last gift I got was death,” she told him wryly. “I’m not so big on presents these days.”
“I’m serious,” Angel murmured. “You could have shirked your duty a long time ago…I know you’ve wanted to, but you don’t. I didn’t have a choice in being a vampire.”
“You could have not eaten people,” she pointed out.
He smirked. “About as easily as you could not have saved them from me.”
He had a point, damn it. She changed the subject. “So…you’re not going to try and persuade me to pick you? Or not to?”
Angel looked at her sagely. “That’s not up to me, Buffy.”
She sighed. Angel could be stubborn when he wanted. “It would make it easier on me if someone would just make up my mind.”
He smiled. “Sorry.”
“This is going to take all day, isn’t it?” Buffy Two said suddenly.
Buffy jumped and turned to face herself. “God, wear a bell, will you?”
“Forgot about me already?” Buffy Two asked, amused.
“Scram,” Buffy ordered.
Buffy Two smiled. “I’ll be walking around in the garden. Call me when you make up your mind. Oh, and…” she looked slyly from Angel to Buffy, sitting so comfortably close on the couch, “…don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Buffy rolled her eyes and turned back to Angel on the couch. “I’m really corny, aren’t I?”
He nodded affectionately. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”
Her brow furrowed. “It’s strange.”
“What is?”
“Having your own self telling you what to do. I’m here to find my destiny and she’s insinuating.”
“Insinuating?”
Buffy shrugged uncomfortably. “That we might…” She flushed horribly then as Angel grinned.
“That we might…?” he prompted teasingly.
Buffy glared at him impatiently. “You’re not this dense in real life. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Yeah…I do,” he admitted. “But hey, it’s your dream.”
She looked up suddenly. “What?”
“It’s your dream. You’re the one thinking all this up, really. Sure, the Powers are lending a hand, but ultimately… You can do whatever you want, can’t you?”
She hadn’t thought about it like that. “My dream… Meaning, this is all in my head…?”
He smiled knowingly.
“If this is all in my mind, all a dream…” I could kiss you right now and you’d never know…
It was if he could read her thoughts. “Something like that…more’s the pity. Remembering’s the best part.”
She cocked her head at him and narrowed her eyes. “Okay, did I just make you compliment my sexual prowess, or was that legitimate?”
He grinned and splayed his hands out before him in defense. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Buffy’s mind began warming to the idea of being in complete control of at least something in this dream…and something so completely appealing. Hot, vivid thoughts of the first and only time they shared in that bed over yonder, the one covered in crimson sheets, raced through her mind and she felt her heart speed up. “So… I could, we…we could do whatever we want right now, and only I’m the wiser, huh?”
His eyes flickered. “Would it be so bad if we were actually doing those things?”
Buffy moved closer to Angel until she could feel the coolness of his skin next to hers. Raising her eyes to his her head dipped in until their mouths were almost touching. “What things?” she asked, and brought her lips to his.
The kiss was hot and searing from the very beginning and Buffy let herself fall into it without thinking. Angel’s hands came up to cup her face, delving into her hair and holding her to him, refusing to let even a fraction of an inch come between their seeking lips. His tongue invaded her mouth and she sighed into it, which quickly rolled into a moan as his hands pulled at her waist. Rather than take a seat next to her, Angel leaned down from his position on the armrest and snaked his arms around her back, dragging her to him. They came together urgently and with fluid motions he lay the both of them back, delightfully pinning the Slayer to the soft leather.
“Angel,” she murmured against his lips.
“Shhh…” he whispered back, taking her hands and raising her arms above her head. He held her there while his mouth moved lower. Taking the hem of her shirt in his teeth he began to lift it slowly until bare skin was revealed, and then his lips ran hot kisses over her flat belly until she was mewling softly with pleasure. With her hands and arms useless Buffy used her legs to bring Angel grinding against her body, wrapping them around his waist and raising her hips to his own. The vampire moaned softly against her abdomen before flicking his tongue over her belly button in soft feathery movements.
With his free hand Angel sought Buffy’s waist and wrapped his large hands around her body, kneading the taut flesh. His tongue continued to work magic over her middle when his lips weren’t planting kisses over her skin. She kicked off her shoes and lifted her hips more forcefully, pushing herself better into his obvious erection. The movement had Angel hissing against her. When he looked up to give her a lustful glare she glanced down at him with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Problem, vampire?” she gasped.
He growled softly. “I believe I asked you that very same question earlier. You never answered me.” His fingers tickled at her waistband and found the zipper, ripping it down with gusto. In a moment his hand disappeared beneath the whisper of lace and satin and moved down to splay over her soft, and increasingly wet, curls. Buffy moaned.
“No…problem,” she managed as he released her arms and used his now free hand to tug at her pants. When they were sufficiently down her legs he moved to one side of her and she wriggled free of them. In another moment her shirt had been dispatched of as well and the Slayer lay beneath him clothed in nothing but wisps of fabric. Angel’s eyes bored holes into her body.
“These should be illegal,” he told her gruffly, fingers tugging gently on her undergarments, eyes roaming her nearly naked flesh.
She smiled, satisfied. “In my dream, anything that produces that kind of reaction isn’t illegal.”
In reply Angel bent again and dipped his fingers beneath her panties, stroking her most tender flesh until he felt the nub of her clit harden in response. Buffy began to pant in sharp, staccato yelps as he worked on her and it wasn’t until she began to feel the pressure rise that he relented, just enough to bring her down before starting the wonderful procedure all over again.
Buffy’s hands dove beneath Angel’s shirt and found his cool skin, massaged his lean muscles. Everything about this was exactly as she remembered, and yet somehow so much better. How was that possible? Removing her hands reluctantly she found the buttons on his shirt and began to undo them, until, frustrated at the slowness of her movements, she ripped them off, sending mother of pearl buttons skittering across the room. Angel groaned in response to her actions, then moaned deeply as her fingers found his chest, his nipples, and began massaging them roughly.
The couch soon became too confining and using all his strength and willpower Angel slowly removed his hands from her body and stood up. Her surprise turned to pleasure as he bent over and gently lifted her into his arms. The moment she was within reach again he kissed her deeply and headed toward the bedroom. Halfway there Buffy’s own need took over and she wriggled until he released her. Never removing her arms from around his neck she wrapped her legs around his waist and feverishly dove to his lips again, delivering a mind-blowing kiss that had Angel reeling. Blindly he stumbled to the bed and lowered them onto the satin bedding. The mattress gave into their weight, crushing them together blissfully as Angel’s body once again covered the Slayers’ and they both sighed at the sensuality of it. Skin on skin they lay together, hands moving quickly over each other’s body, lips desperately seeking any part of the other, just so long as there was contact. Their minds were blank of anything other than the acts they were performing, and having performed on them, and in that moment, Buffy and Angel both knew happiness like neither had had in so long.
The mood slowed now, the fever lessened though the desire would never be sated, and gently Buffy reached down to Angel’s trousers and gave them a tug. He obliged her by lifting his hips ever so much and she pulled them down inch by agonizing inch until he was able to kick them off on his own. Only the barest of clothing was between them now, and with several deft movements, even that was discarded. Now naked they stared into each other’s eyes, chocolate brown into the sweetest mossy green, and the connection that had always been between them flew wide open, poured out and into each other, filling them.
“It’s you,” Buffy told him, “It’s always been you.”
“There will never be anyone else,” he murmured softly. “Never in this lifetime, or the next.”
He entered her then and Buffy sighed once more as he filled her completely, as no one else could do. When they began to move together tears sprang to her eyes and she realized the truth of her words only moments earlier. There would never be anyone else for her. Should she and Angel part, never again would her heart be able to accept another. She loved this man, would always love him, come what may or what might have been. It didn’t matter if they found comfort in another body, because here and now she knew… It would always be Buffy and Angel.
Angel’s eyes were still on her, wonder mixed with concentration as he worked to bring her pleasure as many times as his body would allow. Slowly he moved in and out, their bodies humming together and he was brought back to that night, on her seventeenth birthday when she had given herself to him. She’d been so young and so innocent then, despite all she’d endured and seen in her short lifetime, and she’d been completely his that night. Buffy had opened herself up to him, to loving him, and since then he’d never again felt that way. He doubted he ever would. When she’d confirmed her love for him, sitting there on the bed, soaking wet and shivering with the cold, his heart had blossomed.
He’d left her that night, turned into a monster that she’d been forced to take down. He would not allow this to end the same way. No. This night would end with her in his arms, and she would wake the same way. Morning would dawn and his love would finally see how much she meant to him. But until then…
He quickened his pace slightly, arching his back to root deeper inside her and her inner walls clung to him, pulling on him in just the right way that he had to fight to not roar and explode. Beneath him she was panting, arching her back and pumping her hips faster and faster until soon they gave in and rode each other at a gallop. Her breasts heaved and he filled his hands, then his mouth, with them teasing her nipples until they were rosy and hard, perfect peaks of arousal. She gasped as he teased them with his lips, then grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his lips to hers as she fell over the edge, moaning his name.
It was good, but it wasn’t enough. With renewed concentration Angel felt her peak then come down, and began the dance all over again. Reaching one hand between them he found her nub and began flicking it gently until she was mewling in ecstasy.
“I love you!” she gasped involuntarily.
He grinned at that. “I love you too,” he told her as she roared her release once more.
Buffy’s body quaked with seemingly never-ending pleasure as wave after wave consumed her. Her mind reeled and her heart clenched as she remembered what it was like to love him mind, body and soul. When the orgasm subsided and she could see clearly once again, she opened her eyes to find him gazing at her. Wrestling his hand from between them she placed her own at his root and followed the movement in and out of her body, stroking him as best she could while they pumped together. When his unnecessary breathing quickened she gave a satisfied jerk to his member, then pushed him up onto his arms.
“What--?” he asked when she forced him from within her body, then cursed as she rolled over onto her stomach, offering herself up to him. Her bottom rubbed against him, tantalizingly, and he closed his eyes. This woman was going to be the end of him, he thought, as he lowered himself to her once more. He entered her from behind, his strong hands gripping her hips and angling her to ease the entrance, and Buffy’s mouth fell open, a silent moan of joy. He hissed as her inner walls clamped around him, milking his member until Angel could barely contain himself. To have her, like this, prostrate, was unbearable. When Buffy threw back her head and exposed her neck, his eyes blurred.
“Angel…drink,” she panted as they bucked.
“Drink? No…I…” he gasped, desperately trying to hold on.
“Drink. Now!” she ordered, and reached back with limber arms, grappling for him. When her hand found purchase on his neck she forced him to her own, crushing his mouth to her tender flesh.
The smell of her was intoxicating. Sweat mixed with her own musk, so familiar. The scent that had invaded his dreams over the years to the point that he would wake, sure she’d been there, standing at his bedside, or better yet, lying next to him while he slept. It was too much, and he felt himself changing. As his eyes yellowed and his teeth elongated, she murmured his name and he sank his teeth onto his mark.
They came together in a crash of feeling and waves of pure joy. Angel drank deeply, fueled by her magical blood, and his heart wept with love for this incredible woman beneath him.
Buffy’s eyes crossed when he teeth sank into her now doubly invaded body. Having him here, like this, was like coming home. And she never wanted to be anywhere else.
When the rolling orgasm slowed and they were able to breath normally again, Angel removed his teeth from her throat and gently licked at the stray droplets on her skin. Easing sore muscled down onto the bed she rolled over onto her back and looked up at him, completely trusting and totally loving.
“I love you,” she repeated.
He kissed her softly. “I love you, too.”
“Quite the nice dream, if I do say so myself,” she smiled, stretching with feline satisfaction.
Angel grinned and rolled off her and onto his side, quickly closing the minute distance between them by engulfing her in his strong arms. She nestled down into them and sighed happily. “Your mind has some wicked dark little corners,” he teased.
“You’ll never know,” she retorted.
He moaned. “Oh God…please…feel free to fill me in.”
They lie in happy silence for a long time until their bodies cooled and her heart stopped racing, though truth be told, it never completely settled when he was near. Eventually the silence grew poignant.
“You’re thinking I still have to choose my destiny,” she said softly.
“It doesn’t matter.”
She glanced up at him. “What?”
Tenderly he reached up to stroke her face. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“Because…no matter what you do here, what you choose… It doesn’t matter, Buffy. Because I choose you.”
Her heart swelled and tears sprang to her eyes. “You do?”
He nodded. “It’s not a choice, really. I love you. I always have, even before I met you. I had this love inside me that was always yours. I just needed to find you to give it to you. So no matter what happens next... It’s inconsequential. I choose you. Forever…for always.”
Buffy’s throat seized as she fought tears and lovingly she kissed him. “I love you Angel,” she told him again before she slipped out of bed. As she dressed he watched her, then followed suit and pulled on his trousers.
“I have to go,” she told him with regret.
He nodded, knowing that if he moved, if he crossed to her she would never leave.
“But I’ll be back.”
Walking out into the main room she found her other self sitting quietly on the couch. Buffy Two rose as Buffy entered the room and for once, offered no glib commentary. Buffy approached her silently and stood before the girl.
“I’m ready.”
“And what have you decided?”
“To take secret door number five,” Buffy told her, with a glance up at Angel as he appeared in the doorway. “I choose me.”
Buffy Two stared at her momentarily, then rose to her feet. Nodding, she extended her hand. “Then there’s only one thing left to do.”
“What’s that?”
Kissing her other self on the cheek, Buffy Two smiled. “Wake up.”
