Spoilers: I am warning you now. This story is based on spoiler speculation. As far as I can tell my major plot points are not going to happen. But there are a million and one little things that will happen. I'm saying this story is all the way up to Seeing Red which hasn't aired at the time of this posting but thanks to the good people online I have already seen. So please once again, if you don't want to be spoiled wait until the season ends before you read this story and then please hustle your ass on back. J For anyone who is still with me…

Disclaimer: It's the rules…I know…I don't own it okay. Fine I said it. Moving on.

Feedback: Keeps me sane. Really not kidding. I'm a drooling basket case without it. No one wants that. Think of it as a good deed.

Thanks and the rest: Heller…what would I do without you? Trisha…you know. I know you know and you know I know that you know that I know. Okay that went to far. How about…Thanks guys, couldn't do this without you. Yeah, that's better. For anyone who doesn't think I am certifiable read on.

(Special note to all the wonderful people at Crumbling Walls. Hold on tight, we will get where we need to be. Much hugs and love to you all.)

Sunnydale July 2002

Step…Step…Step…Step…

One foot in front of the other. That was all there was to it. Simple. Precise.

Step…Step…Step…Step…Step…

"Did they have any?"

Buffy tore her gaze from her shoes to stare blankly at her sister. "What?"

"Twizzlers?"

Buffy wondered if Dawn could pack just a little more contempt in the question.

"Hello?…Did you get them?"

Apparently, yes it was possible. Buffy fought the urge to roll her eyes in tandem with Dawn.

Buffy stared at her empty hands and spread out her fingers as if to demonstrate the absence of anything licorice. "Sorry… I forgot."

Dawn turned her face away in disgust. Now, it was okay, a few months ago that look would have earned a long lecture on respect. The only thing that hadn't changed was Dawn's patented dislike for Buffy's actions. One could almost appreciate the effort it must take to hold onto contempt and betrayal that hard. It was good ,actually, something Buffy could count on. The only thing she could count on.

How pathetic was that? Your sister thinking you're a bitch is getting you through the day.

Buffy sat down gingerly and watched the departure signs, slowly letting her eyes glaze back over.

"Aren't you coming? This is *your * big plan."

Buffy glanced up at her sister and wondered when Dawn had moved from the chair beside her.

"Coming? Wha-?"

"Christ Buffy, would you get up? They just called our flight!"

Buffy stood slowly and picked up her carry-on. A quick glance at her watch showed almost twenty minutes had passed since Dawn had asked about the licorice.

Where does it go? All the time you're supposed to have just poof… gone.

"Buffy!"

"What?"

"Your ticket. Give the woman the ticket."

Buffy stared at the papers in her hand and then back at the chair she had been sitting in.

Keep it together. Keep it together. Step…Step…remember.

Buffy collapsed in her designated seat and pressed her forehead to the window, she concentrated on the sounds of the other passengers settling in around them. Dawn was fumbling with her seatbelt and the stewardess was giving safety instructions.

Normal, all perfectly normal.

Buffy pressed her face harder against the cool glass surface trying to still the ache that throbbed incessantly behind her eyes.

"You sure you remembered to tell him what time the flight arrived?"

Buffy nodded slightly. "Yeah, Giles said he would pick us up."

She just wanted quiet. Not peace, that was a commodity she couldn't afford. But quiet, quiet would be nice.

"Where did you put the contracts?"

Buffy sighed, no rest for the wicked.

That's you, the wicked… the failure. Maybe someone should write a letter to whoever chooses the chosen ones. They really screwed up.

Buffy removed her forehead from the window and looked at Dawn. "In the luggage, I think."

"Oh great, what if they lose our bags."

The headache was swiftly entering migraine territory. "They won't lose our bags."

"You don't know that, it happens all the time."

Buffy wondered if the stewardess had a gag in the drink cart.

"Dawn, they aren't going to lose our bags. Even if they do, the real estate lady has copies. Giles will meet us at the airport. Everything is fine. "

Dawn just sniffed and started to dig in her own carry-on. Pulling out a package of Twizzlers, Dawn stuck one in her mouth with a superior smirk. Buffy rolled her eyes. She hated smirking with a passion born of pain, especially that kind.

"What do you have in there?" It was a long flight and Buffy knew ignoring Dawn the whole time wasn't a viable option.

Dawn glanced down at her bag and quickly zipped it shut. "Just stuff I wanted to make sure was safe."

Buffy winced at the reference to the contracts again but pushed on. "Like what?"

"Just stuff."

Buffy raised an eyebrow tension beginning its deadly coil in her stomach. "Let me see."

Dawn started to shove the bag beneath her seat. "No. It's mine."

Buffy reached over and grabbed the straps despite her sister's best attempts to swat her hands away. "I said, let me see. If you've been swiping stuff again I'm-"

Buffy's lecture ground to a halt as the contents of the bag revealed themselves. She slowly stared to pull each item out with infinite care. A long blue scarf that had belonged to Tara. A small charm bracelet that was Willow's. When she got to a book she remembered as being one of Xander's favorites she stopped. Buffy shoved the keepsakes into the bag and threw it back at Dawn. Turning back to the window, Buffy resumed her previous position. She could hear the tears in her sisters voice but didn't have the strength to see them anymore.

"I just wanted something to-"

"I know. It's fine." Buffy's own voice was cold and completely lacking in emotion. The only way it could be now… or ever again.

Minutes passed before Dawn spoke. "Are you ever going to… you know…deal?"

Buffy watched the clouds swing by in the air outside her window. She couldn't remember when the plane had taken off. That was becoming the norm now. Time passed without her knowledge. That was good.

"I am dealing. This is dealing."

Dawn's snort sent an uncomfortable wave of pain up Buffy's spine. "Selling the house and everything we own is not dealing. Moving to England is so not dealing.," Dawn's voice suddenly dropped from the shrill pitch of a snotty teenager to the weak whine of a scared little girl, " It's running away."

Buffy closed her eyes. The sun was too bright. Everything was too bright. "It's not running…it's saving."

"Who? Who are you saving? There's no one left to save, Buffy."

"You, Dawn. There's still you."

Dawn ripped her irate gaze from Buffy's back and hugged the bag closer. It was her last piece of Sunnydale and she was going to protect it with her life. Slipping a hand inside, she dug under the momentos, cds, junk food and make-up until her fingers smoothed over the precious cargo hidden at the bottom. A small measure of peace stole over her and she risked a guilty glance at her sisters stiff profile. Assured she hadn't been caught, Dawn let her fingers stroke the worn black leather duster.

Africa July 2002

Spike sat slumped in the corner of a cave contemplating his life in the burning ash of his cigarette.

"You have chosen."

The voice drifted up to the roof in a gentle arc and then descended softly to his ears. It wasn't a question and Spike didn't debate that. He'd chosen long before he came to this hole in the ground. Okay so maybe his original plan was more 'chip orientated' and 'vengeance like'. Never mind that it took a few painful trials for his mind to catch up with his battered and broken heart. The truth was within. Just like it always had been.

And the slayer wins again…typical.

Spike dropped the neglected smoke and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Trying with a quiet desperation to effectively blocking out the sight and inevitability of the next few moments. Just a few more seconds to re-live what would be forever lost to him. He tried to picture her face smiling, then tried her determined one…maybe lost to him in passion. With a growl of pain, Spike pushed harder on his eyes until blood threatened to flow. They were gone, all his sacred memories were lost to a time he would never get to see again. All that was left were the last seconds with her. Those were being burned repeatedly into his skull until he was almost positive it would combust under the pressure. The disgust, the fear and the knowledge that she had been right all along. Right about him…right about them.

It would be over soon and he'd be the one to end it this time. The only option left in their twisted dance was kill or be killed…unless.

Spike raised his head and watched the last flickers of a candle subside on an altar that made up half the cave. He didn't suppose one flame extinguishing would make a big difference, there were thousands. He'd asked 'why so many' and the answer had been simple; 'fire equals life'. Spike wondered idly if his had just gone out. Standing slowly, he walked to the man in the center of the room.

"Let's get on with it then."

He watched impassively as the shaman pulled a small leather sack from his dusty robe. There was nothing left that could be done to him he hadn't done himself. Spike's mind began to wander. Best not to think too much about the next step. He just couldn't help but ponder how a man, who barley reached chest-level could really have the power this shaman claimed to.

Suppose *she * was only that tall too. Wouldn't have stood for the hair though. You would think an all-powerful being would at least know how to use a brush…or scissors for that matter.

Spike quelled the urge to touch one of the long gray ropes of hair that swung down around the shaman's bare feet. Something started to tickle his nose and it took a moment to realize that a light sprinkling of silver powder was being spread over his chest and head.

Tearing his attention from the mass of dreadlocks, Spike felt himself drawn into black eyes older than time. They were sunken into a face that had seen more than it's share of hot desert sun.

Let it go, mate…time to let her go

A small light of understanding momentarily flashed in the shaman's eyes and then quickly extinguished itself. There were a million lessons he could have learned here but he was only getting the one. Spike fixed his gaze on the altar when he felt a small hand cover his chest, directly over his dead heart. Finally this would end.

"That which causes you pain shall be removed."

The voice was quiet and soft; the burn working its way through Spike's skin was anything but. His head fell back and the angle made him realize, for the first time, that the entire roof of the cave was covered in patterns and symbols. The last coherent thought he could claim was that it wasn't his pain that would be removed…it was hers.

A blinding white light shot from Spike's eyes and mouth, so brilliant and alive it would have burned any human being who dared to look directly at it. A similar beam, this one blue, emerged from his chest. Together they rose towards the ageless marks on the ceiling, twisting and turning around each other until they became one pulsating stream. Skimming the surface of the roof, the essence of a soulless vampire touched on various symbols in a widening and distinct pattern. The shaman smiled slightly to himself as he watched which ones Spike was choosing to take with him. Moments later the lights separated and came crashing back home into the vampire waiting below.

"It is done." The shaman brushed the remaining powder from his hands and turned back to his altar.

Spike collapsed to the floor unconscious.