Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Six sentence fill for Tigriswolf who prompted on Comment Fic "just like dust we settle in this town."

Demons settled in Sunnydale like dust. Didn't matter what she did, didn't matter how much she fought, didn't matter how many she killed: they always came back, always overtook everything.

"I don't really win," she told Angel, sitting beside him on a park bench years ago.

And Spike once leaned in close over the pool table to tell her that no matter how many thousands of thousands of thousands she killed, it was all pointless, she never would win.

And she can't, she knows, because there will always be another fight in Cleveland, or in LA, or wherever she goes now (she'd like to see Europe a little, even if she's mostly there to check out the nightlife). But, looking into the Hellmouth as the real dust settles and realising that there won't be any more demons settling in Sunnydale, she still has to smile; this feels like a win.