The thing about changing the world is…

Buffy is smiling. It’s a wide smile. A wacky smile. Venturing on disturbing, almost.

“Can I get you anything else?”

The guy looks at her. He’s cute. Really cute, she thinks. She waits for his response before moving. “Just a check, thanks.” She’s disappointed. She kinda enjoys pouring the coffee. She’s even more disappointed when the ‘really cute’ guy sits with… ‘another really cute guy’.

She’s still smiling though. Yes, she’s waitressing again. The world has still changed. She’s not mystically transported back in time. Keep saying it Buffy. You may eventually believe it. But on the plus side, she’s not clinically depressed and wearing a chicken on her head, so it’s a step up from the Doublemeat Palace. Reason enough to smile like a crazy person. And cute-guy-talking is better than living-with-Slayers-talking. She considers it all a win. It’s just waitressing, after all. What else did she expect?

Her manager asks her if she can handle the tray okay, considering it’s bordering on overflow. “You’re going to ask me that every time, aren’t you?” she smiles. “Well, it’s big, and you’re little.” She reminds him that in four months working here, at the fabulous ‘Pick Me Up’ coffee shop, she has not spilled a single drink.

A woman walks past her, nearly tripping her up. Buffy tilts backwards, the tray leaving her hands. Her manager stares, either in shock at the potential lawsuit or Buffy’s broken bones. She lands on her back and puts her feet straight up, catching the tray, the cups, beverages still-in-cups, and offers her foot to the customers! Lotta clumsy people here in San Francisco, all of them girls. She looks out the window at the girl that ran out. She was a Slayer. A Slayer no more. A Slayer who knows what’s out there and cannot do a think to stop the bogeymen in the shadows. What did she expect?

“Well, what did you expect?” Kennedy is not happy, a scowl on her face. She stops what she’s doing, folding her clothes and packing them in a case, and turns to Buffy. “You sucked all the magic out of the world.”

Buffy said that she didn’t have a choice. Kennedy says she could have, if she had talked. Communicated. Informed them. Willow could have beaten them back, she insists. “You didn’t see.”

Buffy stops her dead. “No, I was underground, watching Giles die.”

But now Kennedy’s full blown anger is surging and Buffy can tell this is not going to end well. “You want the whole history lesson?” she asks Buffy. “The one where that’s your fault too? Where you super-literally-effed everything up?”

Buffy holds her hands up. Okay. All my fault. Let’s enjoy that reality. She puts her hand on Kennedy’s shoulder. “But Willow needs you now, more than ever. She’s lost her powers. How can you just leave?” Kennedy looks back at her.

She’s crying. Buffy notes that she’s never seen Kennedy cry before. Heck, she’s never seen Kennedy do anything other than kick and scream before! “Missed it again, genius,” she says, unable to hold the emotion in anymore. “Willow dumped me.”

In Golden Gate Park shortly afterwards, Buffy and Willow are sitting by the shore on a grassy bank, overlooking the bridge. Willow is explaining why she split with Kennedy. She saw it coming, she admits, even if Kennedy didn’t. “Kennedy liked being with a superhero.”

Buffy says that there was more to their love than that, but Willow shakes her head. “But she’s still got the fighty. All the Slayers that were called before you destroyed the Seed are still Slayers. There’s no army. And no new Slayers being called.” She looks down at her hands, sadness echoing in her voice. “No magic…”

Buffy says that they’re going off on a tangent, back to the same topic, every time they talk. Willow stands and walks away: Kennedy will not like computer programmer Willow. She likes superhero power Willow too much. Buffy tries to cover, saying that she always appreciated the computer stuff – she’s also heard it’s popular with the kids… But Willow is clearly in no mood for jokes.

“You made everything different, Buffy. I know you need me to tell you it’s not your fault, that it’s gonna be okay. I know you thought you had to do it. But the world is less. It doesn’t even know it yet, but it’s lost its heart.” She doesn’t think it’s as bad as the world being destroyed, but in the long run, it will be.

Buffy tells her that she’s lived a life without magic. Willow looks at her, slight annoyance in her eyes, slightly scarier voice: “This isn’t an addiction thing. Don’t pretend I’m still that little girl.”

Buffy backs away, but also reminds her that they were her decisions and that’s no reason to take them out on Kennedy. She gets flustered, determined to change the subject. “Come on, I’m rooting for Kennedy here! That deserves special consideration! And possibly a plaque.”

Willow looks at her, a tiny smile on her face. “You’re never not ‘you’, are you?” She admits to Buffy that there’s someone else, someone that’s been there for quite some time now. She places her hand on Buffy’s cheek. Buffy looks out of the corner of her eye, and then back at Willow. “Uhm.”

“It’s not you, dumb-ass,” Willow laughs, her joke over. “It’s someone I’ll never see again.”

And just like that, the laugh is gone.

The Seed Chamber. Xander is covering his face, crying. Buffy is still on the floor shaking. Giles’ eyes staring at her. Giles. On the floor. Angel behind her. “Buffy, what happened? Did we… did we win?”

Buffy jolts awake, the memory still echoing in her head. She looks up and sees Dawn staring down at her. “You were making the noise again.”

Xander‘s on his way out of the door, off to work on some building place for the day. Dawn pours herself some coffee and asks her sister if she wants some. Buffy insists that she works in a coffee shop: she can’t even stand the smell. And yes, please.

Dawn brings the coffee over to Buffy, sitting at the kitchen island in Dawn and Xander’s new apartment in San Francisco. She asks Buffy if her nightmare was Spike and Angel, getting it on, again. Buffy shakes her head. “Worse. Like, true.”

Dawn tells her it happens every morning: she’s thinking of using Buffy as an alarm clock. Buffy insists that she is trying to find her own place, but Dawn interrupts. She tells her, it’s fine… they don’t actually have an alarm clock, so it helps. She likes having her big sister around.

Buffy agrees, as they start eating cereal out of the box, just like old times. Buffy is happy for Dawn, even if she has given up fighting for schooling. Dawn says she was useless anyway, and besides, no more fight. “No more gang,” says Buffy.

Buffy picks up her coffee mug, walking over to the couch and begins fluffing the pillows, cleaning up her make-shift bed. “Still plenty of vampires though.” And wannabes. She kinda thought that Harmony’s show being cancelled would have an effect on the craze.

Dawn stops her. Harmony is doing this season’s Dancing with the Stars. “Balls,” is Buffy’s eager response. “You miss it?” Dawn asks, and Buffy starts talking about dancing celebrities, but Dawn interrupts her.

“The war. Being a leader. With an army, I mean. You were born to be a leader. Without the army you’re back to just being bossy.” Buffy starts to argue, but Dawn just looks at her. It was just a nightmare, Buffy insists. And she’s quite prepared, even without a gang, to go solo for a while.

Dawn sits on the couch next to her, cuddles her. “Not alone. Not till Xander and I get sick of you. Then, you’re out on the street, bossy-pants.”

“I love you too,” Buffy tells her.

Somewhere unknown, in an underground military base, the General is walking away from his disapproving-looking superiors. He’s on the phone to his wife: he’s been made the example. He’s to be given medals and pensions and smiles for the press, but he’s an embarrassment to them as far as they’re concerned. He’s about to enter an elevator to the surface so he hangs up. “It’s over,” he says. The elevator door pings.

On the other side of it, gun in her hand, is Simone Dofler. She fires the weapon, executing the General with one shot to the head. “It’s all over for some people,” she smiles.

London, England. Faith and Buffy are in a lawyer’s office, having just come from the funeral of Rupert Giles. Buffy is sat down, shattered, dried tears being covered with fresh ones with every word the lawyer says.

“And so I, Rupert Edmund Giles, do hereby bequeath all of my belongings, save those listed above, and all my savings and properties, including the London flat to Faith Lehane.”

In Giles library, at his London apartment, Faith is just as surprised as Buffy. She knows she’s been with him, working for a while, but Buffy is his number one, always was. So yeah, just like Buffy, Faith is also wondering why it’s all been left to her. “Xander practically stared a hate-beam through me, and that’s just with the one eye. Straight up, B, I don’t have an answer.”

She does, however, have a theory. She believes that he thought Buffy was stronger than her. She reckons it’s all been left to her because she needs way more support than Buffy ever did. And Giles knew it, she thinks. That’s why she’s gotten the money, the flat, the farm and the horses. And Buffy gets this…. She pulls a package out from the shelf. “You get horses?” Buffy asks as she looks down at what Giles has left her.

It a bound leather volume, with golden highlights. It’s locked, with two key holes on the latch, keeping the book sealed. It has the word ‘Vampyr’ written on it. Buffy recognises it straight away.

Buffy stepped into the library, her footsteps echoing in the quiet space. It was deserted, the shelves stretching out around her in heavy silence. She hesitated, glancing toward the checkout counter, where a newspaper lay open. A picture had been circled – Local Boys Still Missing. The headline prickled at her nerves.

Behind her, a sudden tap on the shoulder made her spin around with a startled gasp.

“Ooo!” she exhaled. “Anybody’s here!”

The man in front of her – a tweed-clad, bookish sort with an air of quiet authority – gave her a measured look. “Can I help you?”

Buffy pulled herself together. “I was looking for some, well, books. I’m new.”

He adjusted his glasses. “Miss Summers?”

She blinked. “Good call. Guess I’m the only new kid, huh?”

“I’m Mr. Giles. The librarian,” he said, leading her toward the counter. “I was told you were coming.”

Buffy brightened. “Great! So, um, I’m gonna need Perspectives on 20th Century…”

“I know what you’re after!” he interrupted.

With surprising enthusiasm, he pulled out a large, ancient-looking book. VAMPYR gleamed in gold leaf on the cover. Buffy stared at him, unnerved.

“That’s not what I’m looking for,” she said carefully.

Giles didn’t budge. “Are you sure?”

“I’m way sure.”

He frowned in genuine confusion. “My mistake.”

Sliding the book back into place, he straightened up – but Buffy was already making her exit. He watched her go, brow furrowed.

“So, what is it you said…”

The library doors swung shut behind her, leaving the librarian completely puzzled.

Buffy shakes herself back to reality and the present day, as Faith looks at her. She says it tells her that she’s the Slayer. The only Slayer. Buffy always was. Buffy holds the book closer to her chest. “Then I failed.”

Faith tells her that she’s not here to watch Buffy mope about. Her sharing-the-power trick was fine scrunching the First, but they’ve all been through a meat-grinder since, and it’s Faith that’s been putting some of them back together. At least the training should come in handy, she thinks.

Buffy asks if she can handle it, but Faith says she’s not really sure of anything. But she seems to be the only person who can even look at the guy. She looks over at a dark room in the corner, the door slightly ajar. Angel sits there, still covered in blood, still mouth open – exactly the same as he was when the entity left him. Stunned. Confused. Traumatised. Faith reminds Buffy that she’s all about forgiveness.

In San Francisco, some time later, Buffy hears a knock at the window. It’s Spike. He’s parked on the roof again, hasn’t he, bets Buffy. He says that if he was invited in, he wouldn’t have to sneak, but Buffy smiles. “It’s not my house, blondie-bear.” She scoots out of the window, and joins him on the fire escape. “I have begged you not to call me that. Reminds me of that moron who – among other things – has completely ruined Dancing with the Stars for me this season.”

He’s actually here because he’s heard some rumblings while Buffy’s been serving cappuccinos: someone is coming for her. He doesn’t know who, but he has her back, since, technically, no one else actually does anymore. Buffy tells him that she’ll be fine. She has the super-useful book that Giles left her.

“I know everybody thinks you’re a useless bint that ruined everything right now,” he starts.

“Why did we break up?” she asks him, with more than a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

Spike ignores her. “But I know the truth. You were faced with decisions no one has to make. Attacked and controlled by forces no one comprehends and you pulled your people through. Honestly, screw anybody who thinks they could have done it better. The world was on fire. The world is always on bloody fire and you’re always right in the thick of it and the only difference this time is that people actually noticed.”

He says most people would run from the Scythe, judge her because they wouldn’t know what to do. Buffy starts crying and dashes inside the apartment, hiding her face. Spike is surprised and calls after her. “What’s wrong with you?”

She says she’s fine, clambers through the window and falls awkward off the ledge. Spike is bemused. “You’re weird. I live on a dirigible run by insects and you’re still particularly weird.”

“I got it. You’re still not invited in. Bye now!” is the muffled response from the Slayer, her feet still half-dangling off the window ledge. Spike takes the hint, and the pod shoots across the San Francisco bay, destination unknown.

Buffy is on her couch. She can hear Xander and Dawn in their bedroom. It’s enough to get Buffy thinking about her own place. Like, really soon. She grabs her supplies, grabs a coat and yells that she’s going patrolling. In their bedroom, Dawn is giggling at her pretence, a confused Xander looking at her strangely. Dawn is smiling though: she got Buffy to go out at least.

Jumping from one roof top to another, Buffy is lost in her thoughts.

If I didn’t know Dawnie better, I’d swear she was doing that on purpose. Don’t mind getting out though – the night air, the city beneath me… this feels right. Feels like home.

Her thoughts are interrupted as a rock hits the back of her head, hard. She grunts with the pain. Looking up, blood forming in her hair, she sees the Slayer who walked out and nearly tripped her in the coffee shop that morning.

“You don’t belong here.” She says, standing with two other girls. “You don’t even get what you’ve done. You betrayed us.”

Buffy sighs. “Ah, the speech.” She sits down, and listens. She’s heard this speech before, so her thoughts go through it, beat by beat.

I betrayed the cause. I cut off the line of Slayers. Long sidebar about them not calling themselves Slayers anymore because they don’t want to be associated with me. I destroyed the Wiccan community, tainted the Earth, let my friends down, Jesus, do they think I DON’T ALREADY KNOW?

Buffy stands. She’s not going to fight them, she tells the women. And besides, she thought San Fran was all about tolerance. The women tell her that they want her out of their town – she is the exception to the rule. With that, they launch their attack, the three armed women all rising, weapons drawn and heading for Buffy. She doesn’t move from the spot. Doesn’t even blink, her face resolute.

They’re unarmed and down in less than three seconds. Buffy crouches over the ringleader. “I told you. I’m not gonna fight you. I didn’t go through all of this to end up fighting Slayers.” They claim they’re not Slayers, but she stops them with a look. “But I am.”

She looks down at the one on the ground. “You getting this, breathless? I’m Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. And you’re a bunch of whiny thugs. You come after me again, so much as look at me funny, and then I will fight you.”

She moves to the edge of the rooftop, the city in front of her, wide open.

So that sucked. And as bad as it feels to take out my own girls, I know there’s more coming and not just ’cause Spike’s playing cub reporter. I know because that’s how betrayal works.

In various locations around the world, forces move. Willow researches a way back to the Saga Vasuki. A faerie leaves the underworld, looking for answers. Simone Dofler crosses a hit list off, checks out her latest gun. A man with red shades has his hand offered to someone. The blood on his clothes is still wet.

It sends out ripples of hurt. Ones right next to you… ones you can’t even see. Sometimes, I’m not even sure which part was the betrayal. Everyone’s got their version…

(I’m pretty sure it was bonking Twilight, but still…)

I just know it all comes back. And then some. The trouble with changing the world is, you don’t. Not all at once.

She hears a scream from somewhere on the streets below. In an alley way, a vampire has a young woman cornered, fangs bared, ready to pounce.

You just watch the world inch forward, a bit at a time, and watch it slip back, like the Greek guy with the rock. And you hope that when you’re done, you’ve moved it up a little. Changed it just enough. You hope.

She determines where the scream is coming from, the full moon shining in the San Francisco sky. She pulls out a stake and heads in the direction of the screaming victim…

Let’s go to work.