Angel Of Death
She rushes through the night, heading for Spike's crypt.
They brought her back. They took her peace away, and for what?
This endless round of battle, this carousel of death.
Enraged, she flings the crypt door open, seeking the one who'd resurrected her.
She comes upon him unaware and shoves him to the ground. She straddles him, stake held high.
He jerks his chin, defiant to the end. Only a cry of "Buffy!" stays her hand.
She looks up to see Dawn, horror in her eyes. That same horror stares at her each morning, in the mirror.
Dawn looks away first; Buffy swings again, unchecked. Spike explodes into dust.
Her gift is death -- death is what she has become.
Buffy's eyes are dry.
Buffy. Enraged. Mirror.