Summary: Rewrite of The Wish (btvs s3) canon up until the fight in the factory. Written for dawnm for the Back to High School Ficathon. Requirements at the end.
Feedback: I'd love some.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never mine pout

Chapter Six

-Angel-

She's sitting on the couch just staring into nothing. Giles made her a cup of tea the way she likes it, lots of cream, lots of sugar and it's sitting on the table beside her growing cold.

She's wrapped in a blanket and wearing a pair of very faded navy sweats with the Oxford emblem on them. When we first brought her home she sat in the shower with the steam rolling out from under the bathroom door and sobbed. I sat outside the bathroom door and cried silently. Her skin is still red from the hot water.

She hasn't said a word since we brought her here. I perch on the edge of the couch and reach out to touch her. She turns to look at me and my fingers just brush her jaw, a jaw that's faintly black and blue from the fight tonight.

"Buffy, what can I do?" I ask, desperate to make this better.

She swallows hard and looks away. For a moment I don't think she's going to answer me and then she turns her face toward me and pierces me with her eyes.

"I want to be a bird. I want to fly away. Will you be a bird with me?" she asks.

"I'll be anything you want me to be" I whisper.

We spend the next four hours discussing it. She's firm about it. She doesn't want to give it time and Giles agrees. If she's going to do it, it has to be now.

"Angel, are you sure you want to do this?" He asks me.

I look at Buffy and then him. "She's the reason I'm anything at all. I can be everything to her if that's what she wants" I say.

Giles nods and then looks at Buffy. She holds his gaze for a moment and then nods. It is a firm, decisive nod.

"Very well then" he says.

She stands up, dropping the blanket at her feet and goes upstairs. She comes down in a few moments with a bag. I packed mine earlier. She didn't bring much with her and I have had a couple of centuries to grow accustomed to moving without taking anything, oh the treasures I have left, original Picassos, Renoirs, priceless artifacts. It doesn't matter this time. This time I'm taking the most precious artifact in the world with me. I take her bag from her and pick up her hand. I kiss the knuckles and hold her gaze. She smiles so slightly at me.

We're flying away, just like she wants to.

Four Hours Later:

"Yes, this is Rupert Giles. My position is in Sunnydale, California. I have news to report to Quentin Travers. It is most urgent"

"Quentin, this is Rupert Giles. Richard Smythe's slayer, Buffy Summers-I'm afraid I have bad news. She fought the Master and he killed her. We're going to need the new slayer here as soon as possible."