“I—” The Slayer looks away, gazing into the burbling fountain, where the broken freeze ray bobs in the water. “I didn’t. You’re right. I didn’t try anything but slaying. Slaying is the only thing I know how to do. I mean, one day you’re a cheerleader at the top of the pyramid, and the next you’re having psychic dreams and being called to save the world. It isn’t easy having a destiny. No one else seems to. It’s just me, standing alone, wielding the strength and skill or whatever. The prophecy doesn’t say anything about gray areas where demons and vampires can be friendly. Or neutral! It says that if I see a vampire, I slay it, no questions asked. Except. . .” The Slayer’s breath hitches as her chest tightens. “At home, I have help. I have friends and a Watcher who make sure that I’m doing the right thing. They weren’t chosen, but they care. And they try so hard. And they see things without slayer-vision, so they’re better at seeing the parts that aren’t all good or bad. It’s so much harder to do my job without them. Because, really, I do my job for them. I want to protect our Sunnydale. Where it’s actually sunny. Where it never rains, but the grass stays green without magic. Where my mom is.” A tear slips down the Slayer’s cheek as she looks Anya in the eye. Swallowing hard, she says, “If I could just go back to when Hallie asked me if I thought I could take on more monsters, I’d tell her that one monster a week is a gift. It means there’s time to research and train and have a normal life. There’s space to be more than just the Slayer. I wish I’d known that before. Then maybe I wouldn’t have gotten stuck in Demondale.”

The last thing Buffy sees is the vengeance demon’s face transformed. Red veiny wrinkles. No eyebrows. A heart-shaped open sore on her nose. A smile of perfectly human teeth twinkling in the sunlight.

“Wish granted.”

The world burns white. And Buffy is transported.

Home.

Sixteen

ANYA HAD PRESUMED she was going to return to a raucous victory party. Instead, when she portaled onto the overseer’s balcony, the Bronze looked like a makeshift field hospital. Wounded demons were being tended to on top of pool tables. The Mayor remained encased in ice from the waist down, but a group of vampires was doing its best to melt him with a dozen saltshakers. The remaining cowboy vampire had herded the infernal livestock, blocking them inside the broken remains of the stage.