(no subject)

[brooding-soul.livejournal.com]

Title: Comes In Threes
Author: brooding_soul
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series
Rating: PG13 sounds safe, don't it?
Disclaimer: I don't own crap.
Notes: Slight spoilers for the Buffy Series Finale and a large-ish spoiler for the Angel Series Finale. Written for slodwick's "A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words" challenge. THanks to blue_monday for the partial beta. Also, massive thanks to Slod, who, without realizing it, couldn't have given me a better picture.





The life of a Slayer begins in the cemetery, witnessing for the first time a vampire, caked in earth, crawling out if its grave. The Slayer may be frightened; the Slayer may be prepared. In any case, that is when a Slayer is born: not when she is called, but when she sees. And if a Slayer is lucky enough to have her body be found, if there even is a body to find, her life will also end in a cemetery. Birth to death, grave to grave.

Buffy Summers is one of those Slayers.

***

Dawn knew that if circumstances had been different, Buffy would have wanted to be buried in Sunnydale. Despite Dawns fake-memories of Buffy moving to "the death toilet of California," Dawn knew Buffy had come to consider the town as home. However, short of sending Buffy's coffin free-styling down the slope of the pit where Sunnydale once stood, burying Buffy in Sunnydale wasn't possible. Dawn opted for the runner-up location: Los Angeles, the birthplace of both Buffy and Buffy's love of leather pants.

The Scooby Gang picked out a new gravestone, though the wording stayed the same: "BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS; BELOVED SISTER, DEVOTED FRIEND; SHE SAVED THE WORLD. A LOT." The only thing that changed was the year of her death: 2005.

It was a warm spring night when Dawn visited Buffy for the first time since burying her three months earlier. It happened that way with Joyce, too. Seeing the grave, grown over with grass and headstone firmly in place, made it too real too soon.

Armed with a couple of stakes and fashioning the silver crucifix Angel gave Buffy nine years ago, Dawn silently made her way to Buffy's gravesite. Her eyes scanned the cemetery as she walked, automatically keeping a lookout for any of the requisite creepies and/or crawlies.

Just as she reached Buffy's grave, Dawn's eyes made out a dark figure slumped in front of Buffy's gravestone. Dawn fisted one of her stakes, prepared to fight.

"Who are you?" she called out. The figure rustled a bit, but did not answer. "Who are you?" Dawn cried out again. Again, there was no answer. "Tell me who you are before I kill you!" Dawn demanded. Finally, the figure moved to face her. Dawn's heart caught in her throat.

"Angel."

Angel stared into Dawn's eyes, his gaze cold and unflinching. "She died," the vampire grunted.

Dawn was uncertain how to handle the situation. She and the rest of the Scooby Gang had heard about the final showdown between Angel & Co. and Wolfram & Hart, but they hadn't heard of any survivors. As far as anyone knew, the erstwhile Angel Investigations was completely extinct.

"You were dead," Dawn explained timidly. "Or rather, we thought you were dead. After that last fight. We heard it was...bad."

"It was."

"Did anyone else... Are you the only one left?"

"Yes."

The pair continued to stare at each other, until Dawn couldn't take it anymore. Silently, she slipped into Angel's arms and hugged him, hard. Without realizing it, she started crying. Finally, Angel wrapped his arms around Dawn and embraced her back. After a few minutes, they pulled away and turned toward Buffy's grave in a synchronized motion. Dawn lowered herself to the ground, settling on her knees. She reached out and traced Buffy's name.

"What happened?" Dawn asked Angel, almost nonchalantly. She turned to look at him and saw that he was looking away. "Angel?A He glanced at her. "What happened?"

"With what?" he murmured. He shuffled his feet and actually seemed to be embarrassed.

"With the fight? How did it start? I mean, we know it had something to do with Wolfram & Hart, but...why?" Dawn scrutinized Angel's face, looking for an answer, a reaction, anything. "And how did you survive?"

Angel looked down at the ground. "Don't ask me that," he replied somberly.

"Why?"

"Dawn, please."

"But Angel--"

"DAWN!" Angel bellowed, startling Dawn. He stared her down until she looked away, flustered.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She turned back to Buffy's headstone. Her senses stayed on alert. Behind her, she could hear Angel rustling, and the flick of a Zippo being opened. It flicked shut after a second and the acrid smell of cigarette smoke filtered in the air. Angel smoked his cigarette and soon calmed down. Dawn sighed.

"How did she die?" Angel asked from behind her. His shaky voice belied the stony expression on his face.

"A vampire." Dawn chuckled. "Almost ten years of slaying, fighting the most gruesome monsters you can think of, saving the world dozens of times..." Dawn blinked back tears and chuckled again, vaguely bitterly. "...and it was a vampire that took her out."

Angel crouched beside Dawn and put a hand on her shoulder. "How?"

"I don't know." Dawn turned to face Angel. "We were in England, visiting Giles. I had gone into town to order some books for his collection. I didn't mean to stay in town so long, but the sun set before I could get back. I was just about to Giles' place when I heard…" Dawn shook her head. "I don't know what I heard. I don't even know if I heard anything. Maybe sisterly instinct, y'know?"

Angel nodded his head.

"I went into this clearing off the path and…" Dawn choked up, her throat becoming tight as she relived the memory. "It was holding her down, kneeling on her back, and it was biting her. Draining her. Without thinking, I ran toward them and staked it with a dead branch. But I was too late." The last remaining Summers woman—as far as she knew, what with her philandering father—turned back to her sister’s grave and placed a hand lovingly on the headstone.

"She was dead."

"Yes."

"Do you know if it turned her?"

Dawn turned sharply, her eyes steel and flint. Her left hand gripped her stake so hard that splinters dug into her flesh. "We buried her ashes."