Disclaimer: I personally own nothing related to the concept or creation of any of the characters of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," neither "Angel" nor any of their storylines or plots. I'm doing this for fun, not for profit.
Synopsis: Buffy's brought back from the dead...but to where?
Rating: Probably PG13. Maybe R for violence. If you watch the shows, you can read.
Distribution: Fanfiction.net, Land of Denial. If you're really interested, I think we can work out something.
A.N.: You probably will want to see the first story of this series, "Through a Glass Darkly" otherwise this won't make any sense.

To call it a road was almost pretentious. Deep, jagged ruts cut through the dirt path and at times the trail almost seemed to meander off through the cactus and vanish into nothing. It defied the suspensions and shocks of any vehicle that dared take it to its final destination; an old, weathered building of sheet metal with windows high up on the sides and exhaust fans turning hard, whining shrilly in the night.

The desert moon shone cold and clear over the building and the starlight was harsh rather than comforting. It was almost too bright for predators to be hunting but they needed to survive too, so they were out in full force. Anything that believed different was just looking to get eaten.

Inside the building they were as active as ants, torches cutting through metal, hydraulic drills screaming, pry bars and screwdrivers and wrenches and pullies, all being welded by men who knew exactly what they were doing, under the supervision of Benny the Shark, who watched from his air conditioned office, high above the work floor. He turned back to his desk, checking his manifold against the list of cars currently on the deck. His pudgy fingers tapped lightly on the papers, noting requests for more Accords from New Jersey, Infinitis from California and a few prizes, the orders for specialty cars. He grinned. He really liked the specialty orders he got and took great pride in filling them. Classic cars had so much more panache than anything coming out of Detroit, Japan or Italy. He didn't even deign to classify the crap from Korea as being automobiles. Sometimes the Brits could do it right; those Aston-Healeys were damn cute and could get up and run but Benny's true passion was the American muscle car.

His first had been a '67 Pontiac GTO convertible, nothing less than the crème de le crème available at the time and able to outrun nearly anything on the street. He traded up to a '68 Plymouth Barracuda, with the 426-Hemi engine and continued racing. Met people. Took names and pink slips on the road with that monster. Benny'd raced pony cars and sports cars and wouldn't trade his muscle cars for either. The things out on the street now? Well, it was criminal that the Impala name was stuck to something nowhere near as sexy as the original model.

Benny shook his head, thinking it was a shame the Feds had created such a stir during the gas crisis, so emission standards and streamlining created cars that were almost completely indistinguishable from each other on the road. He couldn't tell anything apart any more. Nothing really had much class except for the Dodge Prowler. Uncomfortable as Hell to drive but it caught the eye and was a sharp little piece of equipment. Not that he'd trade his current car for one but if he had to have a car from this decade, that would be what he'd go after.

Benny raised his head from his work. Something was wrong. He concentrated, folds showing on his forehead as he frowned, trying to place it. He rose to his feet, swinging open the door of his office, looking down at the floor.

All work had stopped. That was what alerted him, no noise. To a man, his crew was turned towards the huge bay door, where the semis would pull in to load up the finished product. Benny looked there too, somehow not surprised to see the huge door standing wide open, the bright light from the shop spilling out into the desert.

A man and a woman stood in that pool of light on the concrete bay, waiting there with a sort of an eerie, careless ease. Benny swallowed reflexively, then shouted down to his foreman. "Raoul. What's going on?"

"Jefe, the door, it just opened and these two," Raoul flung a hand holding a ratchet towards the pair, "were there."

The man wandered in, the woman trailing a little behind, through the cars ready for the next pick-up. She skimmed her hand over the freshly baked paint, as if along a lover's flesh. The man stopped a few feet away from Raoul, smiling. Benny felt a chill run down his spine.

"I talked to," the man said, glancing around the shop, "what was his name, sweetie?" He snapped his fingers at the woman who joined him, snuggling up against his side. She whispered something to him, her electric blue eyes glittering over the men on the floor. "Yeah, that's it. Miguel. Remarkable name, huh. Anyway, I told Miguel we needed some transportation. He suggested I look you up."

Raoul flicked a nervous glance towards the office. Benny waved him off, knowing that these two wouldn't have missed that action. Sure enough, they both turned their attention to him; the man's smile broadening.

"Are you Benny?" he asked, absently running his fingers up and down the woman's back. She rubbed up against him like she was in heat, though her sharply pretty face was tilted his way.

"I am," Benny said. "If Miguel sent you, he also should've told you that orders have to be placed and we contact you once we've got what you want." He gripped the wooden railing in his hands. Neither of the pair had any visible weapons but he didn't doubt their threat. They were too...easy and cool, like they were in complete control of the situation.

The man nodded, fingering his lower lip. "Sure, sure," he said affably, "I understand the way business works. I mean, it's all about supply and demand, isn't it? You can't just give me something that somebody else's ordered." He swung a little from side to side, the woman moving with him, almost as if they danced. "But you know, Benny, this stuff isn't what I wanted anyway. I mean, sure, this is what the average dealer wants, something innocuous and bland." He rapped the trunk of a Celica for emphasis. "Me, I like a little luxury. Room to spread out." His eyebrows danced and he tilted his head down towards his companion, running a fingertip along her jaw line. "You know what I mean." He returned his attention to Benny.

"I don't have anything of that sort in stock right now, Mr...? It seems you have me at a bit of a disadvantage."

"You can call me," he said, his off-handed humor sharpening like a silver blade, "Angel."

The woman laughed at that comment, burying her face in his shoulder. He smirked at her, obviously pleased at her recognition of whatever it was that the name meant between them.

"Mr. Angel," Benny began.

"Just Angel is fine, Benny. I mean, we're all friends here. We should be on a first-name basis, don't you think?" He encompassed the staff with a lazy wave.

"Angel," Benny said. "As I mentioned before, requests must be made. Once I have your order filled, I'll contact you. If you'd like to step into my office, I'm sure we can make arrangements for whatever you'd like."

"But," Angel looked up at him again, his dark eyes piercing even across the distance, "you already have what I want in stock. And I always get what I want."

"Maybe wherever you come from," Benny said, hoping his voice didn't waver. You didn't back down from men like this, otherwise they ran roughshod over you forever. "But here, we do things my way. This is my shop. What I say goes. And I think you and your lady friend have overstayed your welcome. Boys? Escort this Angel and his friend outside the building."

Many tools used in chopping cars could double as weapons. Torches were excellent on the offensive and the heavier crescent wrenches made great clubs. Raoul and his team grabbed their tool of choice and moved in towards the pair. "Oh, boys?" Benny said. "Remember, that's our next shipment. Try not to damage it too much."

"What about the woman, Jefe?" Raoul asked, gesturing at her.

"She can take care of herself." Angel made a show of kissing the woman then spun her away from his body in a choreographed move. She smiled at the men moving towards her, her delicate hands held up in front of her face, beckoning them. Angel lounged to the side, that smirk still visible.

One of the men hooted. "You let your woman fight for you? Maybe she has bigger cajones than you, huh?"

"Why don't you try her," Angel said with a shrug. He glanced at her and she smiled back. "Unless you're scared to attack a woman. When she's obviously unarmed and," he made an 'o' out of his mouth, his eyes widening, "you're scared."

Benny wondered why he didn't feel any better about his men pressing the attack. Unless this pair had back up hidden outside, they were two against twenty. And that woman was a little bitty thing. One blow ought to take her out.

Raoul swung the flame of his torch at Angel. The taller man moved aside fluidly, managing to somehow catch the downward swing of a wrench from another opponent. He pulled the man in front of him and threw him into Raoul's torch. The woman slashed out with her fingernails, cutting open two faces with one blow. Benny watched in shock as she pulled another man to her, taking his head in her hands and laughing as she snapped his neck.

Angel used feet and hands to keep Benny's men at a distance until he positioned each one where he wanted him. Benny could only stare as his men dropped around the pair; torches still blazing, wrenches and pipes thrown into the product. He winced as Angel bodily picked Raoul up, flinging him through the back windscreen of one of the cars. The torch set the interior on fire. The woman laughed at the sight before she grabbed her own prey. Benny yelped as her face changed, her brow thickening, teeth extending and she bent the mechanic's head to the side, burying her fangs into his throat.

The men fell back at this horror, at the flames that backlit the pair who seemed to have escaped from Hell. Angel seemed to move with the speed of the fire, lashing out, taking down men left and right as his woman went after others almost playfully. When they were finished, the concrete floor ran red, bodies strewn everywhere. Fire blazed hot at the back of the building. Benny shrank back as they started up the stairs, their amber eyes reflecting the firelight green, like a wild animal's.

"Well, Benny, now it's just us," Angel said.

"W-what are you?" he asked.

"Vampires," the woman said, showing him her teeth. "Boo."

Benny didn't want to be backed into his office. There was no way to escape from that room, save the stairs. But they kept coming and he retreated quickly, reaching into his desk drawer for his Desert Eagle. He pointed the heavy gun at the pair as they paused in the doorway, the muzzle waggling slightly. He swallowed and squeezed the trigger.

The sound was deafening in the small room. Benny felt a flash of triumph as Angel tumbled back over the railing then the woman was all over him like a wildcat. Her teeth and claws ripped at him, knocking the gun from his hand. He cried out in pain and terror, losing control of his bladder as her fangs buried in his throat. She nursed at his neck, crouched on his chest, riding out the spasms of his body until she drained him dry.

Rising to her feet, Drusilla looked for her companion, rushing to the railing to peer down. "Dark star? Samael?" she asked, worried.

Samael sat up, shaking his head once, his dark hair tumbling into his face. "Done with your snack?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck then twisting it from side to side to loosen it.

She grinned. "He was yummy."

"Great. Get the keys and let's go."

Drusilla rifled through Benny's pockets, finding a set of keys. She palmed them and took money from his wallet. She didn't understand the use of money, Samael could take anything he needed and she'd be happy to help him but sometimes he wanted to pretend to be human. It threw them off, he said, kept him in a low profile status. Whatever he meant, Dru thought it might be a good idea to have some money. She finished checking through the desk drawers, finding a small box, locked up tight. She gathered that and trotted down the stairs. Samael was waiting near another doorway, his expression patient. Blood stained the front of his shirt and she pouted. She hated to see her dark star dressed in less than perfection.

"Well?" he asked.

She handed over the keys and the money she'd filched. He eyed the box and offered her his arm. The pair of them walked out into the desert night and to the small parking lot of cars.

"1967 Plymouth Belvedere GTX," Samael said as they approached the long black car. He unlocked the door and Dru slid inside, purring. It was big, big enough for them to sleep in, if they needed to. Samael went to the front and opened the hood. "A 426 Hemi engine. Benny knew what he was doing. This car has a lot of get up and go." He fiddled with the engine, Drusilla could see him checking fluids and other things up there and turned her attention to the pretty fire, starting to lick up the sides of the metal building. "A convertible, of all things. Guess we'll be doing a lot of night driving, huh, sweetie?" He slammed the hood shut and joined Drusilla in the cabin, starting the car. The engine roared to life as if it wanted to challenge the fire for dominance. Drusilla patted the dash, her eyes wide.

"It sounds like you, my dark star," she said.

"It does, doesn't it?" He flashed her a grin and piloted the car out of the dusty parking lot, carefully guiding it along the pitted road. "And I even like the color."

Drusilla joined him in his laughter as they drove away from the burning building, the night brightening all around them from the flames.

* * *

Part 2

Buffy woke with a start, feeling on alert and confused for a second. The sound of someone breathing in her room made her heart race for an instant as she peered over the side of the bed. She bit back her disappointment upon seeing the familiar face.

Riley slept on the floor, rolled onto his side, his dark blond hair tousled. His large hands curled into the blanket she'd given him from her bed. He'd come upstairs with her and accepted a place on the floor rather than next to her, his disappointment quickly hidden with a sweet smile. Buffy knew he'd wanted more, wanted to hold her and soothe away her fears but she didn't know if she could take that.

Not from Riley. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Her gut clenched when she remembered their last argument over the vampire whores who'd sucked his blood. She remembered trying to chase down the helicopter that took Riley away from her. And she remembered that Riley hadn't sent her a birthday card, not even a note saying, "Hi, I'm okay."

It was strange, thinking back to that last birthday, when Dawn cut herself and Willow transported Glory to...somewhere else. She wondered if the gang here remembered her birthday the same way. Well, minus Anya and Tara, obviously. Buffy suddenly wanted to know if Riley had sent a card to this Buffy, her doppelganger.

Back home, wherever that was, she'd gotten a card from Angel.

Buffy crumpled the sheet she laid on top of at the thought of it. It had been sweet. Totally unexpected. A note was inside, written in Angel's flowing hand. No return address to alert anyone else, just an envelope like the others she received, a throw away card from her father (though the money inside wasn't bad); another from an aunt who lived in Muncie, Indiana and Buffy vaguely remembered from her childhood. But Angel's card, with a carefully drawn sketch of her enclosed, it made up for not hearing from Riley.

Buffy leaned back into her pillow. That wasn't this world, though. Angel wasn't here. He'd never been here. Forcing the now-familiar feeling of loss back, Buffy climbed out of her bed, carefully stepping over Riley. She gathered clothes together quickly and slipped out the door and down the hall to the bathroom.

It was full of Dawn, getting ready for school. Buffy slumped against the wall for a second, then slipped into Dawn's room to change. She used Dawn's brush to make sense of her hair, deciding that a ponytail suited her mood.

Balling up her pajamas, Buffy left Dawn's room, all but running down the stairs.

As she walked into the kitchen to start making coffee, the images of the dream she'd had the night before flashed in her head. The Bronze, with Willow, Xander and Cordelia, at a table. A throne of bones. Spike, Drusilla and...Angelus.

The emotions struck like a sharp blade, cutting through her thoughts until all she saw was Angel's face, twisted in that vicious sneer. His voice echoed in her mind. Buffy shook her head, trying to clear it. Not here. Angelus wasn't here, either.

Buffy heard footsteps, someone coming into the kitchen. "Buffy, are you okay?" Dawn asked, concern coloring her voice. And why not? She'd found out she wasn't human, lost her mother, watched her sister die and then come back to life and not be quite right. It had to be a little traumatic.

"I'm all right, Dawny," Buffy said. She managed a smile. "Just a bad dream."

"Is that why you got up at three in the morning?" Dawn asked, moving past her to get into the cabinet. She pulled out a cereal box.

"You heard me?"

Dawn smirked as she poured cereal into a bowl. "And heard Riley come upstairs with you. And noticed he's not on the couch this morning."

"You notice too much," Buffy said, irritated, then sobered up. "Listen, Dawn, I don't want you to be scared. No matter what happens, I love you."

She gave Buffy the look. "Duh."

Buffy sat across from her sister, twisting the ring on her finger. Riley's ring. "Did-did you and Willow live here by yourselves after I...?" She grimaced.

Dawn nodded, crunching her cereal and swallowing. "With the Buffy-bot," she said. Her eyes dropped towards the bowl in front of her. "You aren't sad you came back, are you?"

Crossing her arms on the tabletop, Buffy leaned her chin on top of them. It was a valid question and trust Dawn to ask it. But any of them might, at any given time. She just couldn't tell the truth, that where she'd been before her return, well, not return, since she'd never actually been to this world, was heaven.

"I mean, this isn't really your home," Dawn said softly.

Buffy tilted her gaze up to meet her sister's eyes. Little Dawn, who was already taller than she was if they were both barefoot. She didn't ever want to hurt her sister, not this one, not any other one. Reaching across the table, she took Dawn's free hand. "It is," she said. "Really, Dawn. Wherever you are, that's home for me."

Her face brightened. "Really?"

"Really."

Dawn stirred the cereal with her spoon, becoming serious again. "Because, I mean, I know you wonder about that vampire. But maybe you should ask Spike again. He knows a lot."

"Maybe." Buffy considered that. Spike didn't always fork over information without a little persuasion. He and Willie were alike that way. She straightened up, releasing Dawn's hand. "But maybe I should just...forget about him." She swallowed the pang that idea brought up. "He isn't here. Maybe he was just in my world." She stared at the ring on her finger again, thinking of another band she'd worn. She wondered if her friends and Dawn had gone through her things after her death. Would one of them return the claddagh ring to Angel?

Would they even think to? Would they have even had the courtesy to tell him she'd died?

No, someone would have. Giles, or maybe Willow. Buffy wondered if he'd grieved. She shook her head. Angel would have grieved. She just hoped he would go on anyway. If all these worlds were tied in together somehow, if there was only one heaven, maybe they'd have a chance to see each other again.

"Well, I have to get on to school." Dawn put her bowl and spoon in the sink and ran water into it. She slid around the table and gave Buffy a one-armed hug. "I want to hear about Wesley and the demon when I get home," she said.

Buffy clutched Dawn's forearm in her hands affectionately, then let her sister go. "I'll tell you all about it. Well, unless it's something bad."

Dawn rocked back on her heels, striking a pose. "I'm a Summers woman," she announced. "I can take anything."

Buffy shooed her out the door. "School."

"School." Dawn waved at her sister as she closed the door behind her. Buffy watched her out the window. Their mother had done the same thing, so many times previously. It almost seemed the right thing to do, as if ingrained into her.

"Morning, Buffy," Willow said, coming into the kitchen. "Did you get Dawn off?"

"Yeah, she just left." Buffy turned around, leaning against the door and crossing her arms as Willow made herself some toast. "Listen, Will, Dawn said you've been taking care of her, since, well, you know."

Willow busied herself pulling the butter from the refrigerator. "It wasn't that hard, Buffy. Dawn's a good kid. And-and I had the bot to stand in for you, when your dad called. Plus the gang." She twisted a hand in the air. "It really wasn't hard at all." A smile quirked the corner of her mouth. "Well, that whole shoplifting thing of Dawn's but we nipped that right in the bud. I charmed some of the stuff she'd taken. Turned her fingers blue for three days."

"Dawn was shoplifting?" Buffy sucked in a deep breath of air.

"Little things," Willow said, nodding. "You know, a lipstick, some stuff from the magic shop. She returned everything to Giles that she took from there and he gave her a stern lecture." Willow turned to face Buffy. "Dawny cried." She pursed her lips. "Then I made her take everything else back and she had to pay for what she'd taken. It was hard for her." Her toast popped up and she plucked the slices from the toaster, dropping them on a plate.

"Thanks for handling that, Will," Buffy said.

"You're welcome," Willow said solemnly then her smile reappeared. "But Dawn's learned her lesson. No stealing. No cutting classes."

"She was doing that?"

"You told me about that before Glory took her, remember?" Willow asked gently.

"Oh, yeah. N-nothing since then, right?" Buffy asked, thinking, Glory did exist. She did take Dawn. That much hadn't changed.

"Nope." Willow slathered her toast with butter and pulled out a jar of jelly from the fridge. "Have you eaten anything yet?" She spread jelly onto the bread.

Buffy's hands fluttered, almost of their own accord. "Nerves, or something. I can't, don't want anything yet."

"Because of Wesley and the demon?" Willow bit into her toast.

"That, too." Buffy pushed off the door to pace the small area. "I had a dream, Will, last night. Maybe it was a nightmare, but," she hesitated, looking at her friend, "maybe it wasn't."

"It seemed pretty bad, since you ran out of the house. Wanna share it?" Riley walked into the kitchen, his hair still tousled. He looked like he'd just gotten up and headed downstairs. Well, except for the addition of the t-shirt. He hadn't been sleeping in a shirt, just drawstring pants as far as Buffy remembered.

"It-ah, I'd kinda like to talk to Giles about it," Buffy said, dropping her eyes.

Riley said, "Oh." Willow moved so he could get a cup out of the cabinet. He poured himself some coffee. "Personal, huh?"

"Strange," Buffy said, shooting him an apologetic glance.

"How strange?" Riley asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Buffy has prophetic dreams," Willow said, then, when Buffy glared at her, waving her hands, she amended, "but this probably isn't one of them."

"Okay," Riley said with a short laugh. "What sort of non-prophetic dream was this?"

"It wasn't anything," Buffy said, trying to downplay it.

"So? Spill it." Riley eyed her over the rim of his cup.

The telephone rang before she was forced to answer. She grinned sheepishly and pointed. "Phone. I'll get it," Buffy said, darting from the room. She could feel Riley's eyes boring into her back and she slipped around the wall to answer the phone and get rid of that sensation. "Hello?"

"Ah, hello. Buffy?"

"Giles." She leaned against the wall. "What'd Wesley have to say?"

"He said for you to come up whenever you can. Lorne, the psychic, is available whenever you are. So if you have nothing planned for today, I can drive you, if you'd like."

Buffy twisted the cord around her fingers. "I'd like, Giles. When can we leave?"

"S-soon. I can meet you at your house, in an hour?"

"An hour is good." She didn't have to force warmth in her voice. "Thank you for this, Giles."

"Oh, anything to h-help set your mind at ease, Buffy," Giles said. "I shall see you shortly."

"Bye," Buffy said, replacing the receiver in its cradle. She wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the windows in front of her.

"Buffy? You okay?" Willow laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah." Buffy smiled at her friend. "Giles is picking me up to take me to see that psychic in an hour. Maybe he'll have some answers for me."

"That'd be good." Willow leaned on the wall next to her. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"I don't know how long we'll be gone. Someone ought to be here when Dawn gets home," Buffy said tentatively.

"How about me?" Riley asked, appearing in the doorway, coffee mug still in his hand.

"You wouldn't mind?" Buffy asked softly.

"Nah. Gives me some time to bond with Dawn." He gestured at the pair of women. "It should be Willow going with you, Buffy. I'll be okay here. I can mow the lawn for you. It's getting a little leggy."

"That'd be great," Willow said. "Thanks, Riley."

"No problem."

"I guess I'd better get changed, then," Willow said. "Figure out what one wears to meet a psychic." She slipped past Riley and they could hear her climb the stairs.

"Yeah," Buffy said, twining her fingers together. "I...that's...I really appreciate this, Riley." She had a hard time looking at him and knew he knew it.

"Anytime, Buffy." He gave her a tender smile. "I just want to make this right for you. And I hope you'll let me."

"Riley," Buffy said softly, "I know you don't understand but things really were different where I'm from."

He shook his head, reaching out to take one of her hands in his. "No, they weren't, Buffy. I know that I loved you, wherever you came from. And if there was another version of me, he loved you too, the same way I do, with all his heart and soul. I can tell by the way you react to me that I, he, must've made some mistakes. I hope you can look past those mistakes, to see me."

Buffy looked down at their hands, the ring sparkling on her finger. Riley loved her. And she had, well, cared for Riley. A part of her understood why he did what he'd done, back in her world. She didn't like it, could never like it, him risking his life to do what he thought would give him insight into her relationship with Angel. She wondered again if this Riley had done the same thing. Somehow, she thought not. There had never been an Angel to compare Riley to. "I'll try," she said.

"Thanks." Riley lifted her hand and kissed it softly. "That's all I'm asking for." He squeezed her fingers and released them, stepping aside and gesturing. "You'd better get ready. I know Giles hates waiting."

"Yeah." Buffy smiled a little, walking past him and up the stairs to her room, thoughts rolling around in her head.

* * *

Part 3

Gunn threw a knife into a dartboard across the room. It hit just inside the outer bulls-eye with a satisfying 'thunk.'

"Watch it!" Doyle shielded his head with his arms, glaring at the other man.

"I was nowhere near hitting your little demon head, Doyle," Gunn said as he walked across the room to retrieve the knife.

"Close enough," Doyle said, then hooked his thumb at the office door. "What's up with Wes?"

"Visitors coming today," Gunn said, checking over the blade. He tucked it back into its sheath. "Someone from...Riverdale?"

Fred, watching them with bright eyes, lit up even more. "Archie and Veronica and Betty live there."

"Huh?" Doyle asked.

"The classics, man," Gun said, shaking his head. "Don't you know nothing?" He swatted Doyle's shoulder, nearly staggering the smaller man. "C'mon. Let's go talk to English. Fred, you coming?"

She bounced off the couch and joined the trio as they entered the office. Wesley sat behind the desk, a light positioned just so above the book he was reading with a magnifying glass. Another text, something that looked like a little scrap of leather, weighted down so it wouldn't roll up, rested on a board in his lap. He consulted one, then the other, occasionally taking the time to scribble something rapidly on a legal pad.

Gunn cleared his throat. "English, hate to barge in when you're cramming for that big exam, but we've got questions."

"Hm?" His concentration broken, Wesley blinked and set aside the magnifying glass, peering at them owlishly.

"We heard there'll be visitors," Doyle said, his nose all but twitching.

"From Riverdale," Fred chimed in, grinning.

"Wherever did you hear...Sunnydale," Wesley said, giving up. "Buffy is coming from Sunnydale." He set aside the text in his lap and tapped the scroll with a careful finger. "She is coming with her Watcher, a Mr. Rupert Giles and possibly others."

"So, Betty," Gunn said.

"Buffy," Wesley corrected, frowning slightly as Fred giggled.

"The Archies," she said in explanation as if the two Brits would get it from that reference.

Doyle shrugged. "I don't have a clue, Wes," he said.

"Damn silly name, Buffy. She's coming to L.A. to visit?" Gunn asked patiently.

Wesley closed his book in exasperation, wondering what part of "I'm going to work in my office for a while" his crew had failed to understand when he told them earlier. "Buffy Summers is the Slayer."

"Slayer? Wasn't that crazy chick you told me about a Slayer? The one who tortured you?" Gunn asked. He shifted his weight, his hand unconsciously dropping to the knife sheathed in his belt.

"Got it in one," Doyle said, tapping the side of his nose.

"Tortured?" Fred hugged herself, her face crumpling.

"It's okay, Fred," Doyle said, touching her arm. "Faith ain't gonna hurt anyone for a long time." She didn't seem to believe him so he went on. "Faith turned herself into the authorities." He nodded, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "She's in England, under the Watchers' care. Still, I think the girl's batty."

"Who's batty?" The woman who appeared next to Fred was taller, a lot better built and had eyes like blue laser beams. Wesley knew that Gunn admired her a great deal, especially since she'd quit the police force. Or been fired, depending on who was telling the story. Whatever the reason, he was happy she'd agreed to join his team. He needed someone else who had a good handle on weapons. While Wesley considered himself a fair hand with a crossbow, even an axe, neither he nor Doyle packed much when it came to the punch. And Fred, though her inventions were handy, if not a tad peculiar, was not one for a battle.

"Faith," Doyle said succinctly.

Kate snorted. "I'll go with that," she said, lounging against the wall and crossing her arms.

"She was a very troubled young woman," Wesley reminded them.

"Troubled?" Kate snorted. "That's a description for it. Raving mad is another one. Why are we discussing Faith? Did she escape her cage in England?"

"Do you remember Buffy Summers, Kate?" Wesley leaned over his book. "She helped bring Faith to justice."

"If you call being sent to England justice, yeah, I remember her. Little bit of a thing." Kate nodded decisively.

"Well, to put it rather bluntly, Buffy died earlier this year."

"Hold on now, died?" Gunn asked, startled. "But you said she was on her way here. In what, a body bag?" Fred twisted around to look at him, her eyes widening.

"Yes, I did. And no, not in a body bag. In an automobile." Wesley removed his glasses and set them aside to rub the bridge of his nose. "Buffy was brought back to life by magic. The rite of Osiris, I believe, the Egyptian god of the underworld." Wesley settled his glasses back in place and rubbed his chin, considering. "Osiris himself was brought back to life by his wife, Isis after being dismembered by his brother, Set."

"You just gotta love those gods and their wacky ways," Gunn said, shaking his head. "At least with a vamp, you know where you stand. The vamp sees you as dinner, you prove otherwise."

"So, Buffy was dismembered?" Doyle asked, paling.

"That's what I was wondering, too," Fred said, looking a little green.

"No, not dismembered but she did die." Wesley gestured at the text and the book on his desk. "I was researching like rituals."

Kate said dryly, "So Buffy was brought back from the dead. I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say we don't really care how."

"That's the interesting part." Wesley capitulated upon seeing their expressions. "At any rate," he went on, smothering his disappointment, "Buffy returned to life. But it appears there is something different about her. Something unexpected. She and her Watcher, Rupert Giles, will be coming here to be introduced to Lorne."

"The Host? Why?" Gunn asked, his face taking on a distinct aversion to the name of the green demon from Pylea.

"To be read, of course," Doyle said. "C'mon, man. If she's different than she was before, Lorne might be able to help figure out why."

Wesley nodded. "That was my recommendation," he said.

"There's more," Kate said. Her police training enhanced her natural suspicions. She was able to read any of them, even Fred, as if they were open books. Wesley was glad he had never agreed to play poker with her, Gunn and Doyle. Between the three of them, he was sure he would lose not only his shirt but also every other article of clothing he had available.

"Well, yes," Wesley said with a scowl.

"So? Spill, English," Gunn said.

Wesley got to his feet, lining up the edge of the book he'd been perusing with the edge of the desk. His fingers traced the strange lettering on the cover. Finally, he lifted his head, taking the time to meet each of their gazes. He was protective of them, wouldn't ask for them to do anything that would put his team in danger without risking himself. Even for Buffy Summers. "Buffy has different memories than those of her colleagues," Wesley said. "Specifically, she remembers a person that none of the others, nor I, actually, have any recollection of."

"False memories?" Doyle asked, curious now.

"Perhaps." Wesley leaned back against his desk and folded his arms. "But Mr. Giles believes something else is possible and perhaps more probable. He believes that, while Buffy was brought back to life, somehow, the rite called the wrong Buffy."

"What?" Gunn asked, scoffing.

"How'd they do that?" Doyle asked, his expression was a little wild. "I mean, there're rules about bringin' people back from the dead. First off, it ain't done. Second off, make sure you get the right person. They're sure she's the right person, right Wes? She ain't some monster?"

"No monster," Wesley said. He was pleased someone else brought up the idea that had plagued him, though Mr. Giles had assured him Buffy was no monster. "They believe, perhaps, that this Buffy, or her soul, at any rate, came from an alternate dimension."

"Oh, and they got switched? Kinda like that 'Star Trek' episode where Kirk and Uhura and Bones and Scotty went through the teleporter in an ion storm and wound up in a different dimension?" Fred asked excitedly, somehow managing to get through the sentence without taking a breath.

"Er, yes, that sounds right," Wesley said, dubiously. He'd never seen the appeal in 'Star Trek.' It seemed...too American. 'Sapphire and Steel', 'The Avengers', now those were the programs he watched when he could steal the time.

"So, is she the evil Buffy or the good Buffy?" Doyle asked darkly, obviously picking up on Fred's reference.

"She might be wondering the same thing about us," Kate said, tossing her hair.

"About this person she says she knows but no one else does," Gunn said, waving a hand in the air. "Who is it?"

"He, actually," Wesley said. "A, er, vampire, to be exact."

Gunn lifted his eyebrows. "So? Once less vamp in our world. Not seeing the bad here, English."

Wesley picked up his legal pad, giving himself something to focus on. The next part seemed fantastical even to him. "It seems that this vampire was rather, er, special."

"Special how?" Kate asked.

"Well, that he was a well-documented killer, for one thing," Wesley said, ignoring his friends' comments on that matter. "But the truly peculiar thing that Buffy states is that this vampire was her, er, companion, if you will."

"Companion?" Gunn lifted his eyebrows. "The spin you're putting on that word doesn't sound good, Wes. Just how much of a 'companion' was this vampire to her?"

"See? She is Evil Buffy," Doyle muttered.

"Doyle," Wesley said sharply. "The Slayer is a warrior of the Powers That Be, as we all are. You could consider her to be the original warrior. But Buffy seems to have memories of a vampire with a soul."

"Oh, now that's rich," Doyle said, his brogue thickening in his agitation. "Vampire with a soul. Next you're gonna say that the Slayer and he were dating."

"If you really need to know that, then the answer's yes."

The voice was clear and calm and cut through the others like a sharp knife, bringing all of them around to face the strangers in the doorway. Wesley recognized the trio, though it had been over a year since he'd seen any of them and that last was Buffy, when Faith had run to Los Angeles. "Buffy. Mr. Giles. Willow. How good to see you."

"Hey, Wesley," Willow said, smiling brightly.

Wesley remembered she was always cheerful, except for when Faith had shot her boyfriend with a poisoned arrow. Then she was miserable, worried that...what was his name? Oh, yes. Oz. She'd been worried that Oz might die. But they'd researched a cure for the werewolf and he'd been able to fight in the Ascension along with the rest of them.

"Wyndham-Price," Giles said in greeting.

"Wes," Buffy said, her eyes flicking past him to the others.

Wesley stepped forward. "Please do come in. Might I get you something? We have tea and coffee, if you prefer it."

"Nothing for me, thanks," Willow said, waving a hand in dismissal. She looked around the interior of the building. "But this hotel, it's great." She craned her head back to study the ceiling. "Incredible architecture."

"Thank you. Mr. Giles? Buffy?"

"I'm fine," Buffy said.

"As am I," Giles said.

"Right then. I suppose introductions are in order." Wesley provided the introductions for everyone within the room, not missing the way Buffy studied both Kate and Doyle minutely. It was obvious that neither of them missed it either. Kate automatically became more defensive while Doyle tried to make himself invisible.

"I remember you, a little," Buffy said, flicking her gaze from Doyle to Kate and back again. "I argued with you at the police station," she told Kate, "and Doyle and Cordelia were at..." She shook her head abruptly.

"Cordelia?" Doyle's eyes narrowed. "I don't know a Cordelia."

"I, uh, how is Miss Chase?" Wesley asked.

"Fine. She and Xander started dating again," Willow said brightly.

"Surviving the Ascension and Adam brought it all out for them."

"Ah. Well, that's for the best, I suppose," Wesley said. He cleared his throat. "Mr. Giles, I have reviewed some of my texts. If you'd like to go over them with me, perhaps we could come to some sort of conclusion about where Buffy's from, and whether there is a way to return her there."

"Go back?" Buffy took a step towards Wesley. "Really?"

He dropped his head, pulled off his glasses and said, "Perhaps. There is a slim chance, Buffy. But without the ritual that brought you here-"

"Oh, I have it," Willow said, fishing in her purse. "Giles said you might want it." She pulled forth a sealed envelope and handed it over. "What about us? Do you need us, too?"

"What? No, I already contacted Lorne, he's expecting you." Wesley said. "But, Mr. Giles, if you could stay and explain the ritual to me?"

Willow raised her hand shyly. "Uh, Wesley? I did the ritual."

"You did?" He coughed, hiding his surprise behind his fist. "Oh, of course. I do remember something about you being a magic user."

"Wiccan," Willow said gently.

"A-and...you did the complete ritual?" Wesley shot a look at Giles, who wore a faintly disproving expression on his face.

"Yes," Willow said. Her head drooped and her red hair swung down and into her face. "I...thought I was doing a good thing." She gestured towards Buffy. "B-but now we've got the wrong Buffy, and..."

"It's okay, Will," Buffy said. She mustered a smile that touched her eyes briefly. Wesley wondered at that. He remembered Buffy being quite emotional about every part of her life. This girl was not the one he remembered from his days in Sunnydale.

"Yeah, but..." Willow sighed.

"Well, perhaps you should be the one to remain here with me and you, Mr. Giles, should accompany Buffy to meet Lorne."

Buffy and her Watcher exchanged glances. "Of course, if you want me to," he said, as if she had asked the question out loud.

"Thanks," she said and turned her attention back to Wesley, firming up her gaze. "So. Where are we going?"

"I'm to take you there," Doyle said, raising his hand. "Don't know if you'd like to go in my car, or take yours."

"A hint? Take yours," Gunn said. "Don't know when he last cleaned that thing."

"Like your truck is in any better shape," Doyle shot back.

"Gentlemen," Wesley said. "Kindly refrain from round one hundred-ten of the Doyle-Gunn match up until Buffy has met Lorne?"

Both subsided to their respective corners. Giles lifted an eyebrow at them and said, "I-I believe we'll take my car. If you will lead the way, Mr. Doyle?"

"Mr. Doyle? Huh-uh, just Doyle. Mr. Doyle is somebody I don't know." Doyle bobbed his head. "Sure. C'mon." He waved at them both to follow him.

"You'll be okay, Will?" Buffy asked her friend, reaching out but not quite touching Willow's arm.

"Oh, sure, you go ahead and find out what's going on." She made a shooing motion. "I'll be okay here with Wesley."

"We'll take good care of her, Buffy," Wesley said. "You go along with Doyle."

"Okay," Buffy said, albeit reluctantly. She and Mr. Giles followed Doyle through the hotel and down the stairs to the parking garage.

"So. That's a Slayer," Gunn said.

"Yep," Willow said, nodding. "That's our Buffy." Her face creased. "Or a version of her, at least." She turned a concerned gaze at Wesley. "Do you think out Buffy's still alive? Somewhere else? M-maybe the me of that world tried to bring her back and got ours? Maybe we can switch them?"

Wesley took off his glasses and polished them, trying to buy some time before he was forced to answer. Fred beat him to it. "On 'Star Trek', everyone got to switch back," she said, going to Willow and patting her on the shoulder carefully.

Willow dredged up a smile at Fred, though her words were anything but cheery. "This is real life."

* * *

Part 4

Buffy rode in the back seat of Giles' car, not quite listening to the running discussion Doyle and Giles were having. Something about a cricket match, she thought, though she thought she remembered Willow telling her once that she was surprised Angel liked Giles. Something about the Irish and the English fighting and old grudges running deep. Buffy almost wished she'd paid attention but whatever Willow had told her didn't seem to matter to Doyle any more than it had Angel.

She traced her fingers along the seams of the seat, the scenes blurring by outside the window. Something else she couldn't find any interest in. Once upon a time, she'd be thrilled to be back in L.A. Now it didn't seem to matter. Nothing much did. She couldn't quite get a grip on this living thing any more. Oh, put a stake in her hand and she could still go out patrolling. But being around the people who once meant everything to her, that was the hard part.

"We're here, princess," Doyle said, breaking into her thoughts.

She startled, blinking up at him, then peering around at the area outside the car. Giles was already getting out so she followed him, automatically shading her eyes from the bright light. She fumbled in her purse for her sunglasses, feeling better when she had them on.

"Exactly where are we, Mr. Doyle?" Giles asked the question she'd wanted to.

"Just Doyle," he corrected again, then hastily went on. "I know it don't look like much, Mr. Giles, Buffy. But Caritas is a pretty big name in town." He waved a hand at them, heading for a doorway in one of the buildings.

"I'm not sure this was all that good an idea, Buffy," Giles said, a frown settling on his face.

She shrugged. "It's the best one we've got, isn't it?" She started after Doyle, who held the door for her. "Thanks," she said.

"Watch your step."

Buffy was glad he'd given her the warning as the descending stairs were not the best lit and coming in from outside and the brightness, well, she was just as happy she didn't fall down into the club. Sounds of hammers thumping and saws whirring rose to meet her as she made her way down the stairs, pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head. She could hear Giles and Doyle following behind her. Still, she proceeded with caution. Despite Doyle and Wesley's trust in this demon, she'd never actually met one she liked.

Well, she thought, Spike was okay. Chipped. At least he was mostly predictable. Give him a mug full of blood and 'Passions' on TV and he was happy. She tried not to think about the other thing that would make Spike happy. It would've been nice if this Spike didn't have a crush on her, too but that seemed to be asking too much from the universe. Buffy paused on the last step, looking around at the chaos of the club. Tables were pushed far away from the center of the room. All the lights were on overhead, not just a friendly bar light or two; enough so the workers could do their jobs. And their jobs seemed to be repairing a rather large hole in what looked to be a stage and part of a wall.

A green...demon in what reminded Buffy frighteningly of her mother's favorite silk lounging pajamas stood with one of the carpenters, another demon, who's face seemed to be made up of oatmeal, with two little raisins for eyes. The green one was gesturing with one hand at the work oatmeal-face was doing.

"Good heavens, what happened in here?" Giles asked, adjusting his glasses.

Doyle waved a hand at the destruction casually. "This's where we wound up after returning from Pylea. Didn't know Gunn's truck would land here. We're just lucky we didn't take out the whole wall."

"I-I see," Giles said, though from the expression on his face, he didn't. "And...what happened to Gunn's truck?"

"Now that's the funny part," Doyle said, warming to his story. "See, us being below ground here in Caritas, to get Gunn's truck out was a real Herculean feat. In fact it took-"

"Doyle?" The green demon noticed them standing by the bar and sauntered over. "I'm so glad you're here. You know this lingo, don't you? I don't think I speak 'carpenter'. I know I ordered sturdy walls, you know, in case another little mishap happens?

Not that I'm blaming you and your friends, it just seems that trouble follows you all like a bad penny." He smiled, showing an amazing amount of white teeth. "And you must be the Slayer." He offered her his hand.

Buffy accepted it, hoping her reluctance didn't show. "I must be," she said, trying a smile on for size. It didn't seem to fit and she gave up on it.

"And the Watcher, too." The demon looked Giles over and stuck out his hand. "We hear a lot about you two in L.A." He shook Giles' hand and smiled at Buffy again. "I have to admit, I don't envy either of you. Sitting atop a hellmouth? That's gotta be some sort of stress."

Doyle folded his arms, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched the proceedings. "Mr. Giles, Buffy, this's Lorne. Lorne, Buffy Summers and Rupert Giles."

"Rupert. Now that's an interesting name," the demon said. "I knew some folks once with Watcher blood in their family. Émigrés to Australia. Now there's a place you wouldn't want to go, missy," he said, patting Buffy's shoulder familiarly. "No place for vampires to hide, really; all that sun; but those bugs and poisonous snakes?" He shuddered and draped an arm casually around Giles' shoulders.

Giles actually looked ready to bolt. Buffy amazed herself by smiling at his discomfort. Giles, not quite sure what to do. Wonders would never cease. And Willow wasn't here to see it. She suddenly regretted her friend not being here with her. "I, uh, yes?" Giles babbled, then coughed, getting control of himself. "Yes, Mr. Lorne, is it?"

"Oh, honey, Lorne is fine." He moved around behind the bar. "Can I get you anything to drink? On the house."

"Ah, it's a little early to be drinking," Giles said.

"A pint of Guinness," Doyle said, leaning his elbows on the bar.

"I should've known," Lorne said, rolling his eyes at the Irishman. He found the required beer and a cold glass, thumping them down in front of Doyle. "Here you are. The next one you pay for." He turned his attention back to Giles and Buffy as Doyle protested this treatment. "I'm ignoring you," he said, then, "Tea? I do have some Earl Grey somewhere in here. There's a lovely Twyleth Teg who comes in regularly and that's all she'll drink."

"Yes, please," Giles said. He frowned at Loren. "A Twyleth Teg? Truly?"

"She and the kitsune get together and belt out an amazing Heart medley." Lorne turned his red eyes to her. "And you, sweetie?"

Buffy stepped up to the bar. "I'm fine, Lorne, thanks." She looked over her shoulder as the demon fussed with the makings for Giles' tea, watching the carpenters work.

"Wesley filled me in a little bit," Lorne's voice carried and she turned around. "He said that you've come back from the dead recently." He reached out and patted her hand. "That had to be rough."

Buffy looked at the green hand covering her own. "You have no idea," she said softly.

"Well, I just hope I can help you. I mean, it'd be quite a feather in my cap, me helping a Slayer, especially one as famous as you are."

"Famous?" That brought her head up and Buffy frowned at Lorne. "What do you mean?"

"Well, how many apocalypses do you have to face before you become famous? I just wanted to let you know, I'm rooting for you, little girl."

"Thanks," she said as Lorne went back to finding the fixings for Giles' tea.

"Okay," Lorne said, handing over a tray with a pretty little teapot and a cup to match, as well as cream and sugar. "Let's get to it, sweetie." He clapped his hands, irritated that the construction crew didn't pay any attention. "Hmph. This isn't going to work. I won't be able to hear you anyway. That truck of Gunn's destroyed the acoustics." He gave Doyle and Giles an apologetic glance. "Do you mind if I take Buffy into my rooms? I'll be able to do the reading there."

"B-Buffy?" Giles asked.

"It's okay, Giles," she said, touched again at his concern. She patted his arm. "I'm a big girl."

"All right, we'll wait here, then," Giles said, settling onto a bar stool.

"No going behind the bar to filch beer," Lorne said, wagging a finger at Doyle.

"I'm wounded," Doyle said, clutching at his heart.

"Uh, huh. Come on, sweetie." Lorne motioned for her to come with him, opening a door that was half-hidden by a curtain of streamers. "It's just back this way," he said, ushering her through.

Buffy walked down a short hall, past a storeroom and into a bedroom that reminded her of something from...she wasn't sure what. She turned slowly in place as Lorne fussed with the lights. "There," he said. "Now, sweetie, make yourself comfortable." Catching her look, he grinned. "This won't hurt, I promise. But I do need you to do something for me."

"What?" Buffy asked cautiously.

"Sing."

"Sing?"

"It's how I read you. Don't worry, even if you don't sing well, hey, I'm used to it. If you can sing, that's a bonus for me." Lorne cocked his head to one side. "Do you need some sort of accompaniment? I've got a little karaoke machine around here somewhere."

"There isn't any other way? Really?" Buffy asked, thinking this was about the strangest thing she'd ever heard.

He favored her with a wry smile. "That's what I need to read you. I don't know, comes with the territory, I guess." He lifted his hands in a 'what can you do' kind of way. "Do you want me to put on the machine?"

"How much do I have to sing?" Buffy asked.

"Well, you know, I really like to have you sing a whole song." Lorne sighed. "It usually helps with the readings, gives time for the images to come."

If it weren't so weird and so right, Buffy knew she'd be laughing. But the idea of a demon with horns and green skin needing her to sing so he could tell her future, it made some sick sort of sense. She wondered if Oz knew about this place. "Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "But I'll have you know that the last time I sang for anyone, it was myself, in the shower."

"The acoustics are usually best there," Lorne said. "Do you want some music?"

She surrendered with a sigh. "What've you got that I might know?"

* * *

Part 5

Sleeping was sometimes not an option during the daylight hours but when Spike could get in a good nap, it made him all that more refreshed during the night. He hadn't been sleeping too well lately, too many plots running through his mind. He was so engrossed in them the sound of the crypt door creaking open startled him.

He rolled off the bed, reaching automatically for the fire poker he'd found on one of his excursions, raising then lowering it when he saw who it was. "What're you doin' here, little bit?"

"School's out," Dawn said, dumping her backpack off her shoulder as she pulled the door closed behind her. "Thought I'd stop by."

"Shouldn't you be at home, with the sis?" Spike tossed aside the poker, rummaging around for his smokes. He thought briefly about putting on a shirt, the kid was eyeing his chest, then decided not to bother. No skin off his nose if she wanted to get an eyeful. He popped a fag in his mouth and lit up, taking a drag on the cigarette.

"She's in L.A.," Dawn said with a shrug, walking over to flop into the easy chair he'd filched from behind a furniture store.

"L.A.?" Spike blew smoke at the ceiling. "Visiting your pops?"

Dawn traced her finger over the design in the fabric. "No." She turned her attention to him, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. "Something about a demon there, who can tell the future. She's gone to see him."

"She has, has she?" Spike rolled his shoulders. "Couldn't get that from Red? Ain't she playin' with Tarot?"

The girl shrugged. "Maybe. But this demon's different. I think she was gonna ask him about that vampire."

Spike blinked but otherwise showed no reaction and was pleased at that. "Angel?" he scoffed. "Thought she'd given up on that pipe dream." He slid off his bed and paced around the room, neatly avoiding the windows with the light streaming through them as he walked.

"She really wants to know about him, Spike," Dawn said. She followed him, turning halfway around in the chair to keep him in sight. "I thought maybe you knew something."

"Guess again, little bit," Spike said. "Never knew a vampire named Angel or Angelus, for that matter. Pretty stupid name for a vamp, anyhow. Angel. Huh." He puffed at the cigarette, careful to avoid meeting Dawn's eyes. She was a sharp little thing. She'd caught him in a couple of lies before. Though it wasn't really a lie. He didn't know any vampire named Angel. Samael on the other hand pretty much fit the description the Slayer had given them, bloodline and all. Wouldn't he laugh, to hear that his counterpart in another dimension was the Slayer's lap dog? Vampire with a soul. How foolish was that? Still, it was something he wanted to know more about.

Dawn slumped in her chair, obviously disappointed. She pulled at a strand of her dark hair, studying the ends as he wandered back to his bed and dropped onto it. "Say, how's about you tell me about this curse thing," he said. "What's big sis got to say about it?"

The teen shrugged. "Not much, just that this Angel was cursed with a soul." Her eyes brightened. "Do you know anything about it?"

"No, that's why I asked you," he said, enunciating clearly.

Dawn made a face at him and dropped back into her slump. "Anyway, I think she hopes this demon can tell her about Angel. I hope for her sake he does, one way or another. I don't like seeing her mope around, you know?"

"She's doin' her job," Spike said. He'd followed Buffy enough to know that. Though she refused to allow him to accompany her on her rounds, he tailed her but he always made a fuss when Rupert or Red asked him to. Didn't want them to think he enjoyed watching the Slayer work. Sometimes it made him itch to take her on, in more ways than one. She was a hot little thing. Worked him up just being in the same room as her. Little sis smelled a bit like her, but not the same. Still, it was one of the reasons he didn't mind her coming around, besides the fact that he liked Dawn. She, like her sister, treated him like a man, not a monster.

"But she's not the same, Spike," Dawn was saying. "She's," she tossed her hands in the air. "Different. Like a whole other person. She doesn't seem to care any more. It's weird. It's scary."

"She did come back from the dead. That's gotta be a change," Spike said. "Know it was for me."

"Yeah, but you came back from the dead to the undead," Dawn said, then gave him an apologetic glance. "Sorry. But Buffy came back alive."

"Told you that they never come back the same, don't matter what ritual Red used to bring her back. If your mum had come back, you'd've seen." He pointed the glowing tip of his cigarette at her, then used it to light up another.

"It's not like she's bad," Dawn said, almost talking to herself "But she acts so different around Riley. And she keeps looking at Cordy and Oz like, I don't know. And Jenny?" She shook her head. "Like a ghost, like she's always surprised to see her. It hurts Jenny, I know. And Giles, but he doesn't say anything."

"Give it time. Maybe she'll get over it." Spike blew a smoke ring into the air and smiled in self-satisfaction as it hovered over his head.

"What if she doesn't, Spike? What then?" Dawn got out of her chair, obviously miserable at the idea. "I'd better go. I'm sure Willow'll be looking for me."

Spike watched as she gathered up her pack, slipping it on. "Niblet? I wouldn't worry too much about the Slayer. She can take care of herself."

Dawn pushed the door open. "Yeah." She smiled. "And she has all of us to help her, right?" She waved and disappeared into the sunlight.

Spike stared after her, the afterimage of Dawn passing through the door burned into his retinas. Slowly, he got to his feet and moved away from the bed, absently picking up the poker again. Twirling it in his hands, he brought it down heavily on the table next to the chair Dawn had vacated. The table shattered, flinders of wood flying in all directions. He smashed it again, kicking the largest piece against the crypt wall.

A seer. He'd never expected her to go that far.

Hands trembling, Spike threw aside the poker, hearing it clang against the wall. Picking up his cigarettes, he lit another one, stuffing it into his mouth. He found a shirt and shrugged into it, throwing on his jacket. Going to the rug stretched across the floor, he kicked it out of the way and revealed a hidden doorway. Opening it, Spike dropped into the hole. He pulled the door closed and started into the sewers.

The seer could ruin all his plans. He needed a drink and he needed it now.

* * *

Part 6

Lorne guided Buffy out of the back rooms and into the main area of the club, Giles starting from his stool as they appeared. "B-Buffy?" he asked, reaching out for her then hesitating. The carpenters stared at this exchange curiously before the Host turned on them.

"Shouldn't you be working?" he asked.

With a few mumbles, they went back to their jobs, leaving the quartet in relative peace. "Maybe you oughtta give 'em a break, Lorne," Doyle said, motioning with a head tilt at the Slayer. "She might need a minute."

"Good idea." Lorne waved at one of the demons. "Take fifteen minutes, boys. On the clock." He rolled his eyes as he turned back to the others, the demons taking advantage of this unexpected break and disappearing. "I know I'll never hear the end of that one."

The girl stood still, her head bowed. Doyle felt his heart go out to her, even though he barely knew her. She looked so tired, so defeated. And it wasn't in him to not want to help. "Hey, princess," he said. "Did you find out anything?"

"Y-yes, Buffy, what news?" the Watcher asked.

Her shoulders twitched and she lifted her eyes, so huge in her pale face. Her expression was dazed, like she'd witnessed something horrible and while she couldn't do anything about it, the fact that she couldn't hadn't quite sunk in yet. "Giles?" she said, her voice tiny and lost.

"I'm here, Buffy," he said and this time he did touch her, taking her upper arms in his hands. She melted against him, burying her face against his chest and clutching at his tweed jacket. Doyle stepped a little away, giving them space. Lorne followed him.

"Poor little thing," Lorne said, shaking his head.

"What happened?" Doyle asked, wishing he could have another beer. It would feel good right about now, a little damper on the emotions pouring off the girl.

"I read her." Lorne sighed heavily, dropping onto the stool Giles had vacated. "She's been through so much, Doyle." He eyed her and the Watcher. "She's got so much yet she's got to do." He turned his attention to Doyle. "She was ripped from heaven and brought here."

"Wha-heaven?" Doyle stabbed a finger at the little blonde. "Her?"

Lorne made a sharp shushing motion. "Quiet! Her friends don't know. She doesn't want them to. I probably shouldn't have told you, knowing how you are. So you'd better keep that Irish yap of yours closed."

"Closed and locked," Doyle said, staring at her. What must that have felt like, to return from heaven?

"There's more," Lorne said.

"Oh, of course, there would be." Doyle slumped against the bar. "I think I need another drink, Lorne."

To his surprise, Lorne went around behind the bar and pulled another Guinness from the stash back there, mixing himself some red drink with a paper umbrella and a shish kebob of fruit. "You're not the only one," the demon said, at Doyle's incredulous expression.

"Must be really bad if you're fronting me a second beer," Doyle said, though he poured it into his mug before Lorne had a chance to change his mind.

"I would give anything not to be that girl," Lorne said. "I don't think I could stand it. In a nutshell? Her life sucks."

"Truly." Doyle studied the Watcher and the Slayer, moved a little away, sitting at one of the booths. The girl looked utterly defeated. Not the look he wanted to see on a warrior for the side of good.

"Truly. Since she's been the Slayer, she got kicked out of school. Her parents got divorced. She died. She broke her boyfriend's curse-her boyfriend was a vampire with a soul, by the way-and he became evil and killed a friend of hers. She had to kill him-the vampire," Lorne said.

"With the soul, yeah, I'm getting that. Wes mentioned him at the Hyperion," Doyle said. "But vampires don't have souls."

"This one did," Lorne said firmly. He sighed. "Maybe I'm a big softy but that girl has had so much heaped on her...the vampire came back from hell, did I mention that? But he left her after she nearly killed another Slayer, what was her name?"

"Faith?" Doyle asked.

"You've heard of her?"

"She went after Wes and tortured him a couple of years back," Doyle said. "Not a pretty time. Buffy, there, came to L.A. to stop her."

"Okay, well, that explains a little of it, I guess." Lorne took an absent sip of his drink. "Anyway. She got another guy after the vampire left but he left her, too. And then her mother died and she found out her sister wasn't her sister but some weird key to another hell dimension and she died again."

"Whew."

"Those are the highlights," the green demon said warningly.

"So, is anything good going to happen to her?" Doyle asked.

Lorne took a larger gulp of his drink. "Now she's here," he said, as if he hadn't heard the question. "She can't get back to her world, Doyle."

"Why? I mean, some magic brought her through, why can't some magic send her back?"

His smile was pained. "That's just it, Francis."

The use of his given name made Doyle pause. He shot the Slayer and her Watcher another look as Lorne went on. "Her world...since she didn't come back, since they weren't able to raise her there? Her world as she knew it is gone."

* * *

The ride back to Sunnydale seemed to take longer than two hours. Buffy sat in the back seat of the car, completely shut down. Willow glanced at her, wishing there was something she could do but Buffy huddled in on herself, staring sightlessly out the window, not speaking. When Willow looked to Giles, he'd shaken his head, warning her silently against saying anything to Buffy. So she sat, her hands knotted in her lap, throwing looks over her shoulder, for the entire drive.

"W-would you like to be taken home, Buffy?" Giles asked as they entered Sunnydale.

Willow watched as her friend uncoiled a little, blinking at the question. Finally, Buffy said, "No." Her head dropped forward until her chin rested on her chest. "I-I guess the magic shop. I can tell everyone there, right?"

"That's an excellent idea," Giles said warmly.

Willow frowned slightly and sank back into the passenger seat. She wasn't sure at all that Buffy should share whatever happened in L.A. Something bad had happened, she knew that. Maybe Buffy needed some time to digest it, to go over it before she had to tell everyone. But it was her decision. "You know, Buffy," she said hesitantly, "you don't have to tell us right now. You, you could take a day. Or two, even."

"Thanks, Will, but I think I'd rather get it over with."

"Are you sure?" Willow twisted around again.

Buffy flicked her eyes up at the question, biting her lip in an attempt to hold back her emotions. "Yeah," she whispered hoarsely.

Giles parked his car and they all got out. "Um, Willow, if you would make the calls, gather everyone together?"

"Sure," she said. "B-but, Xander'll still be at work, and Cordy. And Oz is still in class." She wanted to reach out to Buffy but her friend stood too far away, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She looked like she was in so much pain.

"Ah, yes," Giles said, removing his glasses, polishing them on a handkerchief. "Well, p-please, go ahead and make the calls."

"I-I think I'm gonna go for a walk," Buffy said hesitantly.

"A-are you sure, Buffy?" Giles asked.

"Yeah, I mean, do you wanna talk? We could, you know, talk if you want," Willow said, trying to restrain herself from touching Buffy, who just somehow gave the impression that she didn't want to be touched. Willow thought Buffy looked like a puppy that'd been kicked, too fragile to be left alone. Which was silly, because, well, Slayer, but still, her best friend and just a girl faced with another impossible situation. Willow suddenly wished she'd never done the rite of Osiris. If only she'd known how much pain it would cause.

"Thanks, Will," Buffy said, trying to smile. "But I think I just wanna be alone for a while." She tilted her eyes up at Giles. "Unless you think I should stay."

"No, no, if you feel you need the time," he said, tucking the handkerchief back in his pocket and settling his glasses back on his face.

"When should I be back?"

"Oh, it'll take a little bit of time," Willow said, checking her watch. "A couple of hours?"

Buffy nodded. "I'll be back." She seemed to move farther away without taking a step. "See ya."

"Bye," Willow said, aborting the desire to give Buffy a hug. Giles and she watched as Buffy walked away from them, breaking into a run before she reached the end of the block. "I should go with her," she whispered.

"You'd never be able to keep up," Giles said, not unkindly. "Come inside, there's nothing further we can do out here."

Willow reluctantly followed him inside the shop. She wished she could have gone with Buffy, seen the seer. Maybe, if she'd been there, she could've offered Buffy comfort. Maybe she could've helped in some way. She sighed heavily, the door closing behind her. All she could do now was wait until Buffy came back and call their friends.

It wasn't much, but at least she could do something.

Jenny smiled at them both but her expression took on a worried cast as she realized that the third person of their party was missing. "Rupert? Willow? Where's Buffy?"

"I-I'm afraid that the seer gave her bad news," Giles said, removing his glasses again, this time to rub the bridge of his nose. "She isn't taking it well."

"Why should she?" Willow asked. "She shouldn't have to take it well." She felt all the anger at her stupid plan, bring the Slayer back from the dead, rise up and choke her. "God! Why was I so dumb? I should've never done that ritual. I mean, I got the wrong person. I got the wrong Buffy."

"Willow, don't blame yourself," Giles said, pressing his hands on her shoulders. "You weren't to know what would happen."

"But I should've. I should've," she shook her head. "I knew better, Giles. I talked Dawny out of bringing Joyce back but did I listen to my own advice? Nooo, I just went right on ahead and did the unthinkable." Willow flung her hands in the air, backing away from the Watcher. "I thought what I was doing was good but all it's done is hurt Buffy."

"Willow," Jenny said, her voice soothing. "Rupert's right. You didn't know. You couldn't predict what would happen." Her dark eyes met Giles' blue ones. "I'm sure it will all work out."

She buried her face in her hands. "What if it doesn't? What if I brought her here and she can't adjust?"

"Th-that is not a possibility. Buffy is a strong young woman, the Slayer in her own dimension, not just this one. Yes, she's been dealt hard blows in the past but she's always come out of them. I have faith that she will rise from this dilemma like a phoenix."

Willow allowed Giles to hug her, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him close. It felt right to be here, with Jenny and Giles. She just wished that Buffy was here with them.

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